Page 198 of Lethal King

“I’ll vanish. I’ll never bother you again. But if you never need help, I’ll come running.”

“And if I want you dead?”

“Then I will personally hand you my gun and give you permission to end me.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

No matter how hard I try to hiss at Drago, all that comes out is a jittery sob. I’m getting way too emotional. But there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“I know,” Drago sniffles.

To my surprise, he seems to brush a tear from his scarred cheek.

“Drago… I…”

I don’t know what to say. My heart hurts.

Drago fills in the silence for me.

“I know the truth about your army, Roz,” he says. “There is none. Whatever those Polish priests fed us, it was full of lies. There may have been a fortune waiting for you and Tytus, but there was never going to be anything else.”

My shriveled heart drops further.

“Tytus told you that too?”

“He didn’t have to. I’ve spent the last year doing whatever I can to make up for my past. And part of that was figuring out your weaknesses—but only so I could strengthen them. If you and your brother are going to survive—if you’re going to thrive like I always promised you would—then you need to trust me. You need an army, and I’ve made one for you. Please, Roz. Believe me.”

“I want to,” I hear myself admit, breaking down. Globs of hot tears race down my cheeks as I hang my head. “Stupid hormones,” I sob, trying to brush it all off.

Drago isn’t having it. He lends his shoulder for me to cry on. I soak his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures me, sucking back his own tears. I feel his rough hand gently pat me on the back of the head, just like he did when I was a little girl.

Just like he did at the end of the night he saved me, all those years ago.

A pinprick of warmth appears inside of me.

Even with all of his faults, there’s no denying what this man has done for me.

After my village was razed, the only time I’d ever felt anything close to the warmth of a home was when I was with Drago, Gabriel and Tytus. Hell, even Krol was almost like a hated older step-brother or creepy uncle.

Krol.

“What about Krol?” I sniff, reminded of Drago’s cryptic words on the slimy half-dead bastard.

“Don’t worry about that,” Drago says. “Whatever happens with him, I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect you. I promise.”

I so badly want to believe him; to let my tears sink deeper into his shoulder; to be his daughter again. My shriveled heart begs to be refilled with the warmth I felt at dinner—even if it is a slightly different warmth.

I just want to give in.

“I didn’t bring you here,” I stubbornly remind him. Reluctantly, I push myself off his shoulder.

This is getting too raw. Too emotional. I can’t be this vulnerable around Drago. It’s not smart. He always finds a way to take advantage.

“I know,” Drago nods. “I believe you.”

“So, who did?”