Page 70 of Till Death Do Us Part

I shoved her shoulder. “As if it wasn’t your fault, Constance.”

She flashed a grin, and once again, something possessed me to kiss her cheek before I went. I told myself it was just part of the act.

I slipped back up to the side room, sinking onto the floor next to the outlet, my ear close to the wall. I strained listening through, and I could hear Peter’s voice from the other side, blistering with anger.

“I told them it would be ready now! That we’d have permits for Horizon this weekend! I already got payment upfront. Do you know what they’re going to do to me for this?”

Another voice—a man’s voice, something about it sounding not right, like it wasn’t quite human. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have spent the money without confirming.”

“There was a problem I had to make go away. If she’d had the baby, I would never have heard the end of it. And this shouldn’t have happened if you’d just done your part!”

“The project is still slated to begin. The broader timeline will remain unchanged. Next time, underpromise, and overdeliver.”

“Tell me you have something for me. I already have people in the system poking their noses into my business. I can’t deal with getting rid of someone right now.”

“The logistics routing key, as agreed on. Don’t lose this.”

I pressed myself up to the wall, listening closer, trying to tell anything I could. The sound of a zipper opening, a small one… probably a hidden zipper, a coat rustling. That would be enough. I almost pulled away from the wall before I heard Peter say something else that froze the blood in my veins.

“What are we doing about this place? I know we don’t like to leave potential witnesses.”

“Revelers always cause too much damage… it’s going to be a shame. We’ve already planted the story of the event fireworks stored recklessly inside the building. I trust you can wrap up the investigation before anyone finds out too much.”

Potential witnesses. Even just beyond the people in the ball, there were so many people downstairs who were completely unconnected to this.

I went to stand up, but my stomach dropped out at the sensation of cold metal against the back of my neck—a blade, pressing into my skin.

“I thought I recognized that ring,” said a voice from behind me. A woman’s voice, cool, detached.

Yulia.

Chapter 33

yulia

I hated lies, disguises, and frankly, masquerades.

Whose idea was it to make a party out of lying?

Even masks themselves. Putting this one on had left me sick, standing in front of the mirror, gripping it firmly and staring at my reflection, until suddenly it wasn’t my reflection at all, but the callous face of my grandfather, looking down at me from across his desk, and he spoke in that gravelly tone of his.

You can only exist in this world by being useful, Yulia.

If you aren’t useful to those with more power, you have no reason to exist.

It had been so visceral. Such a symbol. When I wasn’t wearing the mask, I was just Yuli, a girl who would dance around the house and play with her friends. But then someone from the family would give me the mask, and I was Yulia Mikhailovna.

It had started small, distracting people while someone picked pockets. It was a fun game then. Then it was slipping into places, and then it was stealing things myself. It stopped being fun when I first had a gun pointed at my forehead, threatening to crack the mask and then my skull with it.

Instead, a blade pierced through the man from behind, and his blood spattered over my front like paint on a canvas.

I spent hours in the shower that night, crying as I tried to scrub away the blood, but it felt like it was still there, still there, still there.

It wasn’t fair. Grandpapa had ordered so many people killed, and he’d gotten to retire from running the family, living comfortably. Peacefully. Not one missed night of sleep.

And the rest of us, the ones who killed for him, the ones who would die for him, were left holding the nightmares. A ten-year-old girl holding the mask, looking at herself in the mirror and seeing his face there.

But I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I was an adult. And I’d learned to make myself useful. No matter what, I stayed loyal. I proved that much. You didn’t betray family.