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Father has told me about the Barinovs before. They run the Black Delphi—a global network of the underworld’s most feared assassins—and Father hates that they do.
We should be running the Black Delphi, I’ve heard him say before. Not those filthy Russians.
This isn’t just about power. This is about revenge.
Roman Barinov.
“He’s the one,” I mutter, even if I don’t want to.
This dark and mangled teenager is not the boy I came here wishing for. He’s not my prince charming. Not my knight in shining armor. When I look at him, I don’t feel butterflies in my stomach. I don’t feel hope. All I feel is a sense of duty.
This is who father wants. And so, he is who I must choose.
… Even if a part of me is still looking down the line, desperately searching for some blonde hair and some blue eyes…
No, you don’t want to see a boy like that. Remember what the boy you choose will become. Not a hero. Not a savior. But a slave. A killer. A soulless machine. You are damning him. So, damn the right person.
“Good girl,” Father smiles. Stepping away from me, he nods towards Retsos. “Bring me the Barinov boy. Barter off the rest to the other families. Kill who’s left.”
My racing heart drops and my eyes go wide at the causality of my father’s cruel words.
Part of me knew that there wouldn’t be a happy ending to any of this. But to hear it put so bluntly…
“Gladly,” Retsos sneers. A moment later, he disappears through the heavy door of this ever-darkening room.
The demon. I hate him so much.
“Papa, please…” A thorny thread of guilt is slicing through my insides. I have to look down at my feet, away from the looking glass.
It’s my fault that some of these boys will die. And all because I was forced to choose Roman Barinov.
Why does he get to live? He’s supposed to be my enemy—and I spared him because I thought that’s what my father wanted…
A sharp pain of regret lashes around inside of me as my wide eyes dart up from my feet and back down the line of bloody boys ahead.
Despite Father’s warnings, I can’t help the deep sorrow that wraps around my throat. But I’m not just sad. I’m angry.
Of all the boys standing on the other side of this looking glass, Roman looks the least innocent. Those dark green eyes are filled with hate. Those black eyebrows are furrowed in anger.
I chose a monster, and cursed these children.
Even though I know he can’t see me, I fight through the suffocating implications of my choice and stare at the boy who has zero resemblance to any prince or knight I’ve ever read about.
Instantly, I hate him.
If he weren’t here, a more deserving boy might have lived. A less vile boy. Maybe even one of these younger ones who look like all they really need is a little cleaning up…
Before I can spot any light in any of them, though, the mirror goes dark and they disappear.
“Your job is done, dear,” Father says, his deep, gruff voice cutting through the lonely darkness. “But that doesn’t mean the night is over. There was too much hesitation in you. It’s about time we kill what causes that doubt. And I know exactly what that is…” His hand falls back onto my shoulder and he leads me away from the black mirror.
“… Kostas,” Castor pleads from the shadows. But my body guard isn’t untouchable, and my father shuts him up with a simple raised palm.
“Bring her home,” Father orders. “The past dies tonight. As do her childish dreams.”
With that, Father releases me and steps ahead, disappearing behind the same door as Retsos. Just as it slams shut, I hear a guttural wail echo through the thick air.
My heart lurches.
