Page 7 of Twisted Hearts

Two years ago, Vadim died at the hands of Declan Kildare.

Something lethal and vicious stirs, snarling inside me as I slam back the rest of the vodka and glare out over the city. I’ve always had a darkness in me—from the evil in which I was conceived, from the lies that were told to me to “protect” me as a child. From the pain and horror that were inflicted on me later in my teens that Vadim never knew about.

And ever since he died, that darkness has grown. It’s taken root in me, and surged, until its black roots are firmly tangled around whatever heart I have left, strangling it.

Almost a year and a half ago, I went out one night to avenge my father. To kill Declan Kildare with my bare hands. Instead, I saw something I was never meant to.

I sawher.

Eilish Kildare.

And I saw what she did. I saw her secret sin, her darkest moment.

I’ve been sitting on it ever since.

Waiting. Letting it simmer. Biding my time until I could use what I saw that night to destroy her family.

I’ve spent almost a year and a half being the shadow she never even knew she had. Learning her every dark secret. Witnessing each private moment, hearing each whispered hope.

And tonight, she walked right into the fucking lion’s den.

My skin tingles, my blood hot and close to the surface as I turn and stride back across the room to the shattered fragments of the Imperial Shield. My lips curl menacingly as I glare at the shards with malice in my eyes.

Gently, using a file folder and my fingers, I scoop up the pieces of the egg and then reverently cradle them in a decorative bowl from another shelf. The safe behind my desk opens to my code and thumbprint, and I deposit the bowl and its precious contents there before plucking out the little plastic baggie and holding it up, examining it thoughtfully.

The baggie with the bullet casing of a blank in it.

My lips thin to a hard sneer.

I saw what you did, solnishka.

But the simmering feeling in my veins isn’t just from hatred and anger. It’s the lingering heat from the proximity to her. From touching her. From feeling her wriggle and writhe against me, and from listening to the choked way her breath caught at the sound of my wrath. From the tumble of blonde, and the scent of Chanel No. 5, andher. From the flash of green in her eyes as she glanced back, right before she bolted from the room.

Tonight, Eilish has set things in motion that cannot be undone.

Things I will notallowto be undone.

I saw what she did. Now, her fate rests in the palm of my hand.

And I’m going to fuckingsqueeze.

3

EILISH

He didn’t see you.

You had your hood up.

The cameras were disabled.

He does. Not. Know.

I’ve repeated these four lines to myself over and over like a mantra ever since I ran down 5thAvenue last night. I breathed them in and out fervently, like a prayer, as I lay wide awake in my bed all last night in the Upper East Side brownstone where I grew up. They’ve been on a constant loop all day today as I went to morning classes.

It hasn’t donea thingto help.

My hands are shaking. My skin feels too tight for the pressure in my veins. My eyes dart side to side with every step, as if I’m constantly waiting for Gavan to lunge out at me from behind every tree or corner to murder me for smashing his father’s priceless egg.