“The truth about what happened to Creighton. Who did that to him?”
“Nah, I planned that whole thing all too carefully, I can’t just tell you my secrets.”
“Either you tell me or there will be no deal.”
“Jesus. You sure we’re actually family?”
“Probably a mess-up in genetics.”
He chuckles, the sound easy. “Well, I’m not that opposed to spilling the truth, but it depends on whether or not you’ll hate me if you know I was the one who dug up and shed light on Creighton’s past.”
My jaw clenches, but I force the discomfort down. Deep down, I knew there would be a day when Creighton would get in touch with his past, no matter how much my father and I tried to block it.
“You’re not mad?” Lan asks slowly.
“I’ll beat you the fuck up later, but that doesn’t answer why he’s in this state.”
“Thing is, Creigh always wanted revenge, so when he found out the name of the couple who caused the demise of his family, he went after their son.”
“Is he the one who shot him?”
“Nope, his sister did. I swear to fuck, I didn’t think that Barbie doll had it in her, but then again, maybe I underestimated her, considering she’s a mafia princess.”
“A mafia princess,” I repeat, not asking a question.
Of course.
Elsa and I first met Creighton in the States when we were visiting my friend, Asher Carson. Back then, his wife, Reina, was sponsoring a three-year-old orphan in one of the organizations she runs.
He looked lifeless and scrawny and apparently escaped death by an inch.
My wife fell in love with him immediately. Up until that point, she was having these sad episodes whenever she saw children. She always wanted to give Eli a sibling, preferably a sister, but since the doctors said that her first pregnancy was a miracle and any additional pregnancies would bring certain risk to her life, I had a vasectomy.
Because there was no way in fuck I’d put her life in danger.
She understood that decision, but she cried anyway. She was depressed for a whole month after I killed her hopes for another child of our own, and while I hated seeing her like that, I never regretted the procedure.
We’d never thought about adoption prior to hearing about Creighton, partly because the topic of children made Elsa depressed, and I honestly didn’t think I could care for someone who wasn’t my flesh and blood.
But that was before we met Creighton.
When Elsa looked at him with those motherly eyes, I didn’t think twice before asking her if she wanted the child to be her own.
I’ve never seen my wife so irrevocably happy than in that moment. The look in her eyes rivaled with the way she looked at me on our wedding day and when Eli was born.
But we understood that Creighton came with baggage. Reina told us that her sister, who was tied to the Russian mafia, was the one who’d entrusted him to her, and he had an ambiguous past that they weren’t willing to divulge.
I figured the reason his parents had died was because they’d pissed off the mafia, but Reina assured us that the boy had no ties whatsoever to the mob.
And I assured her that he’d only be a King going forward. No longer American, no longer alone.
He’d become my son.
“That’s not the worst of it.” Landon’s voice brings me back to the present.
“What is then?”
“She’s Creighton’s girlfriend. Or was, considering the circumstances.”
“What?”
“The one who shot him is his girl,” Lan repeats. “So the thing is, I’ve been looking into his past for some time, but I only managed to corner the guard with the right information recently. Once all the pieces of the puzzle were in place, I tried to warn Creigh away from Annika, but he was too pussy-whipped to listen. Now that I think about it, he looked more devastated finding out she’s the daughter of the people who wronged him than he was about his origins. Do you think that’s why he provoked her so she’d shoot him?”
“Tell me more.”
I listen carefully to Lan’s recounting of events. By the time he’s done, I’ve already formed an image in my head regarding what seems to be the issue.
Landon gets his prize and says he’s going to find his brother, who’s in a place he’s not supposed to be.
I’m still thinking about my nephew’s words when I arrive in front of Creighton’s room.
My feet come to a halt when I catch a glimpse of a petite girl in sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair falling on either side of her face, and she’s crying. Silently. As she glues her face to the glass. Both her palms are on the surface, her lips trembling as she murmurs something I can’t hear.
That must be Annika Volkov.
The girl Eli was giving Creighton shit about when they talked to Elsa once.
My wife wouldn’t shut up about it that night, retelling me every word with her bright expression and smiley face. She was so happy that her youngest was finally finding love.
She’d assumed both our boys would die alone and she wouldn’t have any grandchildren but was happy to be proved wrong.
Annika is also apparently the girl who shot my son.
The one who stabbed him in the back when it mattered the most.
I approach her with powerful strides. She doesn’t sense me, seeming too focused on the other side to notice her surroundings.
When I stop behind her, I can hear what she’s whispering in a brittle voice.
“I’m sorry…so sorry… Please wake up… If you do…if you do, I don’t mind if you kill me. I’m so sorry, Creigh…so sorry.”
“Is that all you have to say after what you’ve done?”
She flinches, and slowly turns around to face me, her eyes wide, her cheeks tear-streaked, and I realize exactly what she is.
Annika Volkov is the missing piece that’s forbidding Creighton from waking up, and I’ll do anything to get my son back.
31
ANNIKA
I shouldn’t be here.
If Papa finds out I’ve come to the hospital, which I’m sure he will, considering the thousand and one guards he brought with him—Kolya included—I’m done for.
But I managed to sneak out in disguise while everyone was busy.
I had to see Creighton one final time before I’m dragged back to the US.
I had to hear the machines beeping, signaling that he’s alive.
But he’s not awake.
From what little info Remi fed me, his condition gets more complicated the longer he stays in a vegetative state.
Remi is the only one who talks to me, secretly, monotonically, even. Like everyone else, he hates me for putting his friend and cousin in this state, but he also said, “I understand that you did it to save your brother, but I still don’t like you right now.”
That’s okay.
As long as I’m updated about Creighton, I don’t care if I’m disliked, hated, or downright tortured for what I’ve done.
And I think that’s exactly what will happen as I stare into Aiden King’s soulless gray eyes. They’re so much like Eli’s, both in their terrifying edge and in color, that it’s absolutely horrifying.