Page 46 of Until Death or Defeat

God, I feel so incredibly stupid for even caring for a split moment.

I’ve spent the last nine years telling myself I needed to prove something to my father, but for some reason Artem’s rejection hurts more than my father’s does.

It always hurts more.

I wish I wasn’t like this.

I wish I wasn’t so quick to emotion that I just do shit without thinking of the future and how it could affect everyone else.

Maybe that does make Artem better than me.

I hate him, and if you’d asked me two weeks ago I would’ve said I hope he fails, but if he losespakhannow somehow to Roman, I will also lose my only opportunity to be in some sortof position of power too. Even if it means supporting him, I have to do it for myself. I can’t let him fail.

The doorknob rattling abruptly stops my thoughts, and I quickly wipe my cheeks.

“For fucks sake, this isn’t only your room. Unlock the door.”

I try to fan my eyes and hide any sign I was upset before I walk toward the door again. He bangs hard against it, making me jump slightly from the unexpected noise.

“Giselle, unlock the door before I break it down.”

I clench my jaw and unlock it, walking back toward my nightstand on the other side of the bed as he opens the door.

“My mother was sad that you didn’t see her off.”

My heart pangs a bit at his words. It’s hard not having my mother around, and for a moment it felt like I had connected with his mother. I mean, technically speaking, she is supposed to be my family. For a fleeting moment I had let myself feel that she was too, but his words dug a knife into the idea.

“Don’t give me your silent treatment,solnishko. The sound of your silence is almost louder than you yelling at me.”

He walks closer to me, and I turn around, not wanting him to get close and see my swollen eyes.

“Just leave me alone.”

“Why are you hiding yourself from me?” His muscular arms suddenly wrap around my waist in a bruising grip, and his chin rests on the top of my head. “You think I don’t know when you’ve been crying?”

“What the hell do you care? This is what you wanted anyway. To break me again, to hurt my feelings to get your fucking point across,” I say as I try to wiggle out of his grasp, but it’s futile.

I can feel his jaw clenching against my hair before he speaks again. “I thought you told me that you trusted me.”

I shake my head in disbelief at his comment. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why won’t you just trust that I’m always doing the right thing?”

I don’t respond for a moment as I consider his question. Why did I even admit that I trusted him? And even if I do trust him, that doesn’t mean I’ll just blindly trust every move he makes and let him walk all over me.

“You don’t get to do what you think is right, and then be condescending to me when I was only trying to defend you and right my own wrong. Asshole.”

He chuckles against my hair, and his face drops from above me to against the side of my face.

“My Giselle admitting she’s wrong? AlertThe New Yorker,” he jokes in a whisper against my face.

“There is noyour Giselle.And for the record, I am perfectly capable of admitting when I’m wrong, unlike you. Clearly.”

He straightens his head against mine, his lips close to my ear now.

“I was wrong, then. I don’t want you involved still, but youaremine, in all meanings of the word. That includes family.”

I’m shocked by his easy apology. Well, for Artem, it was an apology, though very indirect. But I won’t forgive him, because he only took back half of it.