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Finally, after all these years, I’d grabbed his attention enough to coax him out of his cave.
So, why the fuck does it feel so unrewarding?
“It’s all coming together as you anticipated. So, let’s go sharpen those canines, shall we, little Bratva cub?” Luca patronizes.
49
ELANEE
Iroll the amethyst bracelet back and forth, watching the light catch on it.
I have nothing left to give.
Exhausted.
Empty.
Nothing.
Layla opens the door, and I’m too exhausted to let the shame and guilt continue to cripple me. “Had I the choice, I would’ve never come back to New York,” I confess.
I’d reconciled to my fate a long time ago. I want to laugh at myself openly for allowing such things as hope to flutter about instead. I’d gotten ahead of myself these past few months and I had no one to blame except myself.
“You were always meant to return to us,” Layla says as she takes the seat by my side and pats my hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry about Dmitri. He’s not acting himself right now—I promise you, Elanee, he didn’t mean any of that.”
I didn’t blame him. If I were him, I’d put a gun to my head and be done with the implications. It’s most likely what I deserve. I wallow in my self-pity, and there’s comfort in this space. “Mom and Dad?” I ask her as a distraction, praying she can’t read what’s going on in my mind.
She’s watching me carefully. Most likely aware that I’m actively guiding the conversation elsewhere. “They’re okay. Ironically, they’re traveling in Sicily at the moment, which is part of Luca’s territory as well. They have people watching them carefully.”
It still doesn’t feel like enough of a deterrent to keep The Lion away, but while he’s not there, he won’t challenge any type of turf war. No, he always liked to be a part of the bloodshed himself. I knew the moment he decided to send me back to New York that he probably had to return here himself one day. Now that the time is upon us, I can’t help but feel like we’ve fallen into his trap instead of vice versa.
Layla is still watching me carefully, and she squeezes my hand. She’s warm and kind. Always has been. And right now, I don’t feel deserving of that love. What could I offer her in return other than a broken shell of the sister she’d once known?
“I know you’ve gone through a lot, and I can’t even imagine what you’ve seen or experienced, but we’re near the end, Elanee. We can start your life back here. Properly. We’ll get you the help you need to fight through this.”
A dark, humorous laugh bubbles. “There are only so many broken pieces of myself I can keep picking up.”
“Then you start with a new piece. Bit by bit,” she urges.
I internally sigh. I clung to that hope. Back and forth with my urge to fight or just resign to my fate. I’m so fucking tired.
We sit in silence for minutes. I know she expects something from me, so I quietly admit. “I don’t have the fight anymore, Layla.” When I say it out loud, my voice is devoid of any emotion; and when I look at her, she’s furious.
She slaps me across the face and I’m stunned.
“Snap out of it. A lot of people have put their ass on the line to get you here!” she bites.
“I never asked for help!” I shout back.
“Sometimes you don’t need to ask for it, Elanee. It’s just there. No matter what happens, people have your back.”
“People have died because of me!” I yell at her furiously. She makes it sound so easy. It might not be her or Dmitri. But there were others—a trail of bodies for simply trying to be my friend. “There were girls I used to dance with. Ones who I considered friends. They slowly started disappearing. All because they were friends with me.” I expect the guilt and inner turmoil that’d devoured me whole over the years to reawaken, but nothing stirs.
Defeated.
Exhausted.
Useless.
