Heart of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #3)(25)

I punch the screen to answer. “You don’t have to force my hand. I let her go. Now fucking leave me alone.”

“Did you now?” Federov sounds surprised.

“What do you want, old man?”

“I thought you would want to know that the Bratva that supplies de Vere’s drugs . . . they were not surprised to hear Pallovich took a side job. They also owe me a favor, and I called it in. They’re going to set a trap for de Vere. I’m going to help you get your revenge.”

My revenge. Feels fucking hollow now.

“Fine. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

“No, I wish to talk about the deal—”

I end the call and hurl the phone across the room.

Fuck the deal. Fuck everything.





22





India





I don’t remember falling asleep, or climbing up on the couch, or being covered with a blanket. But when I open my eyes, that’s exactly where I am. A steaming cup of tea sits on the table in front of me, and before I see her, I know Alanna is here.

Summer called her because she’s never seen me like this. I’ve never broken down like I thought my life was over before. Not even the day when I realized our mom—who wasn’t actually my mom—was never coming back for us.

How I am I ever going to tell Summer the truth? That she’s not my sister? That her mom was my father’s mistress and kidnapped me?

My stomach twists and flips. I want to burrow my head under the blanket and forget about all of it, but Alanna peeks around the couch and sees my eyes open before I can feign sleep and avoid the conversation that is inevitably coming next.

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Her lips quiver as she comes around to sit beside me and throws both arms around my neck. “So, so sorry,” she whispers.

I swallow the lump in my throat and try to speak, but the words get caught.

“Here, drink this.” She presses a mug of hot tea into my shaky hands.

Dutifully, I sip the chamomile-flavored water. If nothing else, Alanna believes in the restorative powers of a cup of tea like she’d been born in Britain rather than America.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I say, handing the mug back to her. With how much I’m trembling, I don’t trust myself not to spill it everywhere. “You didn’t do this. I did it to myself.”

“I refuse to believe that whatever happened is all because of you. It takes two to tango, my dear.”

It’s a phrase she often pulled out for Summer when she was going through one tumultuous breakup after another. But I’m not my sister, whose heart bounces back instead of shattering.

She’s not my sister, I remind myself, and another tear trails down my cheek.

“Indy, sweetheart, talk to me. Please. You’re scaring an old woman, and you know that’s not fun.”

I look around the room for my sis—Summer—but she’s gone. “Where is she?”

“Summer had to go back to work. She came home on her lunch hour because she didn’t want to use the work facilities to . . . you know . . .”

I would have sworn it was impossible to bring a smile to my face at that moment, but the reminder that my sister can’t take a crap in a public restroom manages to do it.

“My flat is now her designated toilet? Wait, no, she said she’s been staying here.” The smile fades when I remember she works for Juliette Preston Priest.

Alanna nods. “She told me you said it was okay.”

Another Summer white lie. “I didn’t, but I would’ve. It’s not a big deal. How is her job going?”

I hate that I feel petty when I ask, because it reminds me of how Juliette was so shocked that Forge had “settled down.” I still remember what he said in reply. “Because I hadn’t met Indy yet.”

Bullshit. Shivers ripple through me, and the tears slide down my face. Alanna reaches out to wipe them away before I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Why don’t we talk about you first, dear?”

I shake my head. “I would prefer not to.”

“I know, but sometimes you have to get it out before you can start healing.”

Healing? That sounds like a foreign concept if I’ve ever heard one. I plan to harden, since the chances of me healing are slim to none.

I can’t bring myself to talk about what happened with Forge, so I blurt, “Summer isn’t my sister.”

Alanna’s eyes go wide and her mouth drops open. “What? What are you talking about?”

I bite down on my lip, wishing I hadn’t said anything. The last thing I want to do is cause anyone else even a fraction of the pain that I’m feeling right now.

“I met my father,” I say, pausing when I remember that Alanna doesn’t know anything about this. I didn’t tell her anything because not only am I a shitty daughter, I’m also a shitty adopted daughter.

“Your father? How? When?” She curls her hands into the blanket that covers me.

I inhale a shaky breath and let it all spill out. How I was kidnapped. Why Summer was kidnapped. How my father found me. Why Forge married me. Why Bastien was causing trouble. Through it all, Alanna sits on the couch, staring at me in disbelief.

“Oh, my goodness gracious. If this is what you’ve been holding in, no wonder you’re a mess, sweetheart.” She pulls me into another hug and squeezes me almost hard enough to break a rib.