Satin Princess(85)

“Why?”

Lev shrugs. “Because she expected too much. She wanted to be consulted on everything. She wanted a seat at the table. Basically, she wanted to control everyone around her, including Anton.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So she was delusional?”

“See, the thing is, that approach had worked for her her entire life. She controlled the people around her. I suppose she assumed she could do the same where Anton was concerned. But it wasn’t just that. She was insanely jealous all the time. If a woman so much as looked at Anton, she would go into a rage.”

"Maybe she really cared for him."

"Maybe," Lev says cryptically. "It's hard to know with her.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “She was so convincing with me. She played the part of my friend to perfection.”

“That’s what makes her so dangerous. If she’s got a plan, she’ll stick to it.”

“She was sure she would kill me eventually.”

“And she probably wanted to do it in the most dramatic way possible,” Lev agrees. “She likes the theatrics.”

“The woman needs therapy.”

Lev snorts. “No amount of therapy can save Marina. She’s beyond help. You see this scar here?” he asks, pointing to a thin white scar near his collar bone.

“Yeah?”

“I suggested she see a shrink once. It was an offhand jab, not even intending to insult her. She tried to stab me with a pen.”

“I think she made your case for you. Stabbing someone with a pen is a shrink-worthy offense.”

“True enough,” he chuckles. “I didn’t point that out, though. She still had the pen in her hand.”

“How did you stop her?”

“Anton did,” I say. “He pulled her off me and threw her in her room. After that, she barely acknowledged my presence. Which suited me just fine.”

“How about Yulian?” I ask. “Did she get along with him?”

“Marina didn’t really get along with anyone in Anton’s house. She and Yulian didn’t have much contact. I think he was wary of her. He kept his distance. He’s smarter than I give him credit for.”

“Do you think you’ll find her?” I ask softly.

He gives me a reassuring smile. “You’ve met Anton, haven’t you? The man always gets what he wants. You have nothing to worry about, Jessa.”

I hope to God he’s right.





29





ANTON





Yulian gets out of the car and looks around, perplexed. “This is the spot you chose to meet?”

Grass has grown up through the old railway tracks, almost hiding them altogether. What is visible is rust red. There’s nothing around for miles.

“I didn’t want to be obvious. When have we ever had a meeting of any kind in a place like this?”

“Never. Because there’s no damn place to sit.”

“You can’t stay on your feet for an hour?” I snort.

“Not if I can help it. My ankles swell.”

I ignore him and walk down the railway line until I reach the rail shed off to the right. There’s a garish red X painted on the side along with a bunch of faded graffiti, layer right on top of layer until it’s so thick the whole thing is starting to peel off.

Yulian follows behind me, looking around with distaste. He’s not finished bitching. “I mean, what was wrong with our usual meeting places?” he whines.

“I wanted someplace low-key. A place that Marina would never suspect we would go.”

“She’ll never think of this one, that’s for sure,” he mumbles. “They’re late.”

“No, they’re not.” I gesture towards the opposite side of the track where a car is parked.

I whistle low and Yaromir’s head pokes out of the shed. He steps out, followed by two tall men who both acknowledge me subtly.

“Yaromir,” I say, “I appreciate you meeting me here.”

He looks as unenthusiastic about our venue as Yulian. I can’t exactly blame them. The sun is beating down and it’s hot.

“Of course,” he says warily. “Anything for my closest ally.”

I suppress a smirk. Apparently, someone is terrified that he’ll lose my support. At least he’s smart enough to know that without my blessing, his appointment as don would never have been accepted by the rest of the underworld.

“I’m sure you want to know what this is about.”

“I have been curious,” he admits.

“Well, prepare to be shocked,” I tell him, watching every muscle on his face. “Marina is alive.”

At first, there’s no reaction. Then his entire face comes alive. Every muscle, every crease shifts into a mask of surprise. “Marina?” He repeats her name in a low voice, as though it holds power. Like she’ll be summoned if he says it too loud.

Yulian glances at me and I give him a nod, confirming what we’re both thinking: the man definitely didn’t know of Marina’s existence until just now.

“That… that’s not possible,” Yaromir insists, looking between Yulian and me with clear worry.

“It is possible. It’s real.”