When I wake, Sebastian is gone.
There’s nothing as empty as a bare stretch of mattress where you hoped to see the person you love.
I stare at that space for a long time, wondering where he went. And wondering if he’ll return.
I roll over into the dent where his heavy body lay, and I bury my face in his half of the pillow, trying to see if the scent of his hair and his skin is still lingering.
The night before seems like a dream.
My aching muscles remind me that it was all real. Sebastian and I fucked like animals for hours. I gave myself to him, fully and entirely, holding nothing back. He took everything he needed from me, and gave himself back in return. The real Sebastian. Dark and angry, but still in love with me.
I know that he is. I don’t see him leaving as a sign that he doesn’t care. He wouldn’t have come down here at all, if that was the case. He couldn’t have fucked me like that, with such fixation and desperation.
He was doing what he had to, to forgive me. To take me back again.
I understand all that.
And I understand where he’s gone now.
The sex healed the rift between us. But it hasn’t satisfied his need for revenge.
I sit on that mattress, facing my fundamental dilemma once more.
Sebastian has gone to kill everyone I know and love.
Most of them I could lose without blinking. Some I might even like to see die—Rodion, for instance.
I won’t enjoy hearing that my father’s been killed, but I accept it. He signed his own death warrant when he broke the blood contract.
But Adrian . . . Adrian is still my twin. After my mother died, and before I met Sebastian, Adrian was the only person on this planet who loved me. He has his faults, but he always tried to comfort and protect me. He’s my brother and I can’t stop loving him, no matter what he’s done.
So I sit here wondering what I should do.
Should I stay exactly where I am, and let fate decide?
Or should I intervene, and risk losing Sebastian once and for all?
He forgave me for what I did before, despite the damage I caused. Despite the trust I broke.
But if I interfere in his revenge . . .
I’m sick at the thought of fucking things up all over again. I should stay put, exactly where I am. I can’t ruin anything if I’m here, right where Sebastian wants me.
That’s what I tell myself. Until my brain starts tormenting me with thoughts of where Sebastian might be right now, what he might be doing. And what my father might be doing in return.
What if Sebastian gets himself killed? What if they all do?
I can’t just sit here while the world burns around me.
I jump up from the mattress and pace the room. Then I force myself to sit down again. Then I jump up once more.
I’m tormented, my mind swirling around and around in my skull like my body paces around and around in the cell.
Hours pass this way. I know that Greta will be coming down with lunch. If I’m going to act, I have to do it soon. Assuming I can do anything at all.
I sit down on the mattress for the last time, forcing myself to decide. Stay or go? Act or wait?
At last I realize that there is no right choice. I have no ability to save Sebastian and my brother, not really. And no ability to avoid regret. The outcome isn’t in my hands. All I can do is try.
So I sit quietly on the mattress, my brain and body calm at last. I slip my hand under my pillow and find the sticker, still tacky on one side. Luckily I didn’t lose it while Sebastian and I destroyed this room last night. I hold the sticker in my hand, hidden between my palm and my thigh.
Only a few minutes later, I hear the creak of the door as Greta comes into the cell. Because her arms are full with the heavy lunch tray, she doesn’t close the door behind her. She carries the tray over to the bed and bends her knees to set it down.
Pretending to reach for the tray, I knock over the glass of milk.
“Oh, sorry!” I cry. “Let me grab a towel.”
I jump up from the bed, pretending to grab a washcloth from the sink. As I pass the open doorframe, I press the sticker over the hole where the magnetic bolt slides into place. Greta—busy righting the glass and trying to salvage my sandwich—doesn’t notice a thing. I bring her my washcloth and help her to mop up the spilled milk.
She sits with me while I eat.
She seems a little nervous. I think she’s concerned for me.
She asks me, tentatively, “Did you speak to Sebastian last night?”
“Yes,” I say. “He came down here.”
“Was it . . . a productive conversation?”
“Yes,” I say. “I think we’ll come to an agreement, eventually.”
“Really?” Greta says, her face full of relief. “I knew Sebastian would be able to move past all this, given time. He has a good heart Yelena, and he loves you intensely, I know he does.”
I feel bad for deceiving Greta, after all she’s done for me.
I put my hand over hers and squeeze it.
“I love him too, Greta,” I tell her. “No matter what happens.”
Greta nods, then leans over and hugs me, careful of my bandaged shoulder.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says, flapping her hand to swat away my gratitude like she’s swatting a fly. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me,” I say.
She picks up my tray, which I’ve cleaned in minutes, ravenous from the activities of the night before.
“Do you want any more milk?” she asks me.
“No,” I say. “That was perfect.”
She leaves the cell, closing the door behind her. She doesn’t notice—though I do, because I’m listening carefully—that the magnetic lock makes its normal whirring sound, but without the accompanying clunk of the bolt sliding into place. It’s blocked by the sticker on the doorframe.
I wait a full twenty minutes to make sure Greta is all the way upstairs, and not coming back.
Then I walk over to the door and pull.
It swings open easily on its hinges.
I look out into the dark hallway, my heart rising up in my throat.
I don’t have to think about it—I already made my decision. Taking a deep breath, I slip out of the cell.
