Page 84 of House of Lies

“You’re going to do what?” I purse my lips when he’s done, determined to piss everyone off tonight. “You’re going to beat me to death? You’re going to rape me? You’re going to torture me? You’re going to do what, Ivan?” His jaw twitches. He doesn’t answer, and we stare at each other silently. “I’m here against my will. If you want to leave, be my guest. Take Kazimir with you while you’re at it.”

“Enough!” Kaz’s voice cuts through the tension. “And you,” he says to his cousin, “don’t say another fucking word.” We lock eyes in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. “Leave!”

“Gladly,” I scoff, my tone defiant.

“Not you,” Kaz clarifies, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to climb back inside. Slowly, so my man won’t be tempted to shoot you. Bring me a first aid kit,” he snarls at Vanya, who leaves the room, closing the door behind him. “Fuck, Caelia!” he snaps, heading toward me. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” The only answer I can think of is that he could let me leave, but I don’t believe this is something he wants to hear. I say nothing. “Sit,” he commands, and I obey, limping to the chair while he paces left and right.

A minute later, Vanya returns with a first-aid kit, placing it on the desk before leaving us alone. The situation feels surreal, and I’m aware of the uncertainty ahead. I obediently sit on the chair as Kaz crouches in front of me, his gun pointed at my chest.

“Is this what you want, Wildfire?” He keeps a steady finger on the trigger, his tattooed hand wrapped around the metal. I lick my lips, trying to come up with an answer. “Why are you doing everything to try and get yourself killed? You’re driving me mad, Caelia.”

His beautiful eyes are tormented. All of this seems to be physically painful for him.

I stare at him, then at the barrel of the gun, and back into his eyes again.

“You won’t pull the trigger.”

“You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t.”

He didn’t go through all that trouble to save my life so that he could pull a bullet into my head. I’m not sure what he wants just yet, but it’s not to see me dead. I place my hand on top of his, curling my fingers. Shifting on the chair, I bring my chest closer, pulling the barrel closer between my breasts. His nostrils flare, and every muscle in his body tenses. He locks his other hand on top of mine, twisting the wrist of his right hand, the one he’s holding the gun with. I watch in terror as he points it at him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I want to fight against this and tell him to put the gun down, but I’m afraid that I might accidentally kill him. It’s not something I can live with. “Please, Kaz. Let go of my hand. Put down the gun.” Panic rises in my throat.

“Go on, Wildfire. Pull the trigger.” My finger twitches on top of his. “If you can,” he challenges me, a teasing edge in his voice.

“I can’t,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. I’ve realized that, despite everything, I don’t hate him. I can’t. He saved me in more ways than one. “Was any of it real?”

“All of it was real,” he replies without skipping a beat, not even asking me what I’m talking about. I’m not sure what this means. “You can hate me if you must. That’s something I know how to deal with. Just stop hurting yourself.”

“No more lies,” I remind myself. “And I don’t hate you. I tried, but I can’t.” I admit.

There it is. The truth that’s going to bury me alive. Even after everything that happened to me, I can’t bring myself to hate him now that I know the truth. He gave me more than anyone else in my life ever did. Even when he bound me by his side, I was still more free than in my entire life. It’s sad, really. I’ve been married to Mattia for so long and felt nothing for him. I didn’t fall in love with him. I didn’t start caring about him as a coping mechanism to deal with the trauma. I didn’t lie to myself, trying to be obedient and in his good graces, hoping he’d treat me right. Kaz stayed with me in the hospital when he had no reason to. He came back. He saved me.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done that hurt you. I’m sorry I’ve lied to you, Caelia. I’m sorry I acted like him when I didn’t know what else to do. But you need to stop trying to run away from me.”

He apologized countless times for things he didn’t even do. For everything that Mattia did to me. It couldn’t have been easy. He wasn’t even aware of what happened to me. He knew nothing about what I’ve accused him of and didn’t do any of those things. And he apologized anyway. He put up with me when he didn’t need to. I understand now that I wasn’t essential to his plan. He could’ve just locked me away or killed me. He had countless opportunities to do so, like now. He has all the reasons.

“Put down the gun,” I beg him.

I shouldn’t be near him. I’ll fight against him in the next minute, but all I need right now is for him to hold me and tell me that nothing bad will happen to me, even if it is a lie. There have already been so many between us. One more wouldn’t make any difference. I’m sure there are other things he needs to do. He’s just choosing to spend his time here with my crazy ass. I almost told him I loved him. Is that still the case? Is that still real? Did I ever know the real him, or did I fall for an illusion? My confusion drives me mad, and he’s not helping either—hot in one second and cold in the next. Threatening me, he pulls a gun at me so he can later apologize for everything and promise me he’ll destroy whoever hurt me.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a pain in the ass. I’m sorry I yelled so much at you. I’m sorry that I’ve stabbed you.”

The air coming through the smashed window is chilly. I shiver, but it might be just a consequence of being so close to him. I place my free hand on his face, staring into his eyes. I pull my body closer to his. He falls on his knees when I press my lips against his, closing my eyes. The touch alone is enough to bury me alive. I need him so much; it hurts worse than everything I’ve endured. Slipping from the chair, I take the gun from his hand, falling on my knees. Kaz lets go, and I place it on the floor. I know I shouldn’t do this. Deep down, I know he’s not better than the men who hurt me, but he’s always been good to me. Almost.

A tear runs down my cheek as he wraps his hand around my waist, moving his lips like he’s afraid I’m going to break if he’s going to apply more pressure. Every inch of my skin hurts where he’s touching me, but I don’t want him to stop. I’m scared of my feelings. I was willing to stay even when I didn’t know the truth, all because I’d fallen for him. I almost changed my mind. I nearly didn’t run away. And I can’t help but wonder how things might have been different now if I had just stayed. Suppose he had told me the truth a little sooner.

God, why does he have to be like this? Even now, after I’ve handcuffed him to the bed and tried to run away, he’s not saying anything about it. I’d prefer for him to threaten to destroy my life again instead of wrapping me in his arms.

Tell me where it hurts, so I can help you heal.

He’s doing it even without me telling him. No one ever touched me the way he does it. The way he’s always done it. He might be angry, but I don’t feel it in his touch as he pulls me closer. It’s gentle and careful, although I don’t deserve it.

He stops suddenly, arching an eyebrow, madness sparking in his eyes. He’s mad at me, but he keeps everything inside. Understanding blooms in the pit that lives in my stomach now.

I’m damaged goods. I know how men like him think.