Page 58 of Dangerous Promises

I shake my head as Alexei steps up to look at it as well, shaking his head too.

"This was with it, too," Isla says, handing over a locket. I hold the gold chain up to the moonlight, squinting as it turns and shimmers, but it doesn't look familiar at all. I pull at the clasp, trying to snap it open, but it's sealed shut.

"Why would he leave this behind?" Alexei asks.

I drop the heart shape into my hand, and though I'm confused, I'm nervous to think there may be someone else out there, playing a role in all this, that I know nothing about.

A car rounds the street, headlights shining through the window.

"We should get out of here," Isla says. "In case someone shows up."

Freddie nods and he and Isla make their way towards the exit.

But Alexei and I just stand there staring at the locket. Both of us looking at it like we've never seen it before but also know exactly what it is.

I snap my hand closed around the locket and put it in my pocket.

Alexei looks up slowly to meet my gaze.

It doesn't matter how much my heart pounds when he looks at me. How much I crave his attention whilst at the same time being disgusted at myself for wanting it.

I look over at the board. The picture ofhimwith the big red 'x'.

Nothing beats the feeling of loss that is blanketing my world.

Nothing Alexei could do or say could make that better. But this was a prudent reminder. It's been over a year now, and still I have failed. I'm forgetting his voice and his face. I'm also forgetting his revenge.

Nothing can be more important than finishing this.

Not Alexei's rough calloused hands on my skin. Not the way my body goes weak at the thought of his stormy gray eyes. Not the way my heart begs me to reach out and sink into him for as long as he will let me.

This will never go away until I get the revenge I desperately crave.

I look over at the board and steel my resolve. At the very least, thanking Chet for the reminder of who the real enemies are.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Alexei

Isettle down to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, regretting agreeing to stay at the DeMarco mansion for the night. Their place was closer and it was late. What a stupid reason to agree. What a stupid reason to listen to Fallon when he suggested it to Isla. What a stupid reason to let Isla talk me into thinking it was a good idea.

I was too engrossed in what I found of my brother to think clearly.

What I saw in that shop will haunt me forever. A front-row seat to the depths my brother went to for Chet. How close they became and how deep he kept me in the dark.

What I'd assumed was a clandestine agreement turned out to be more like something friendly. I'd seen maybe a simple shake of the hand. Envelopes exchanged over dark meeting places. A notion that Victor didn't really want to work with Chet. He was just using him as a means to an end.

I see it differently now. The two of them sitting in that room together, talking and drinking like old friends as they lazed on the couch. Exchanging stories about the DeMarcos. About me. Sharing more like family than my brother had been treating me.

How could my brother entertain him at all?

My throat squeezes with pain like a knife that my brother stabbed into my back himself. What my father put me through as a boy was only second to what Uncle Chet was like.

Both of us second sons, and every slight he perceived against his position he repeated onto me. Sage isn't the only one with scars from him. Mine are simply covered by enough artwork to attempt to erase it.

Losing this image of Victor feels like losing him all over again. Was he really someone I knew at all? What a delusion to think I could've had any hand at stopping him or changing his mind.