Page 206 of Interion

“Perfect, now just cut the cake.”

I removed the little candles and set them aside, then took off the cloud-shaped metal topper.

“Don’t you want to know what I wished for?” he asked excitedly.

“Usually people don’t tell,” I said, as he plunged the knife into the cake and made a complete mess transferring the slice to the plate.

“But I want to tell you.”

“Then tell me.”

I smiled at his eccentric nature. Zion was quiet in the corner, and I thanked the gods for that. Better quiet than trading barbs with his father.

“I wished for you two to be with me on every birthday for the rest of my life,” he replied, holding the first piece, which looked like a crumbled peanut candy.

Zion, beside me, looked like he wanted to vanish. I turned to stare at Serguei. I could feel his expectation, yet I couldn’t even begin to understand the complexity of that man. He said rude things as if it were nothing, hurt our feelings with his tactlessness. He had wounded Zion in so many ways it was painful to think about, yet he still seemed to want his son close. He was the most feared man in the nation, yet there he was, heart exposed, fractured, but somehow trying to piece itself back together.

“I hope fate hears your wish,” I said, approaching with a shy smile. “Who gets the first piece of cake?”

He frowned and looked at the slice in his hands. Before he could answer, I was already laughing.

“Me, obviously.”

Δ

I ate my cake in silence, watching the two men in front of me. They looked so similar physically, yet had infinitely different personalities. I couldn’t help wondering if Serguei’s attempts to strip away the part of Zion that felt too much affection for others was really just an attempt to eliminate something he wanted to remove from himself. He was watching me thoughtfully too, but gave no sign that he’d heard my thoughts or agreed. I shifted my gaze to the painting again.

“Is that Ravena?”

“Yes.” He turned to gaze at the image as well.

And there, in his eyes, I saw the pain. It was on display like something in a shop window, as real as anything tangible. In that moment, I wished from the bottom of my heart that I hadn’t asked. Both men were studying the painting.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered, gazing at the woman. Zion’s eyes had the same subtle upturn at the corners, almost imperceptible, easily overlooked. But now I could see it was something he’d inherited from her, and the detail seemed to demand to be noticed.

“Yes, she was splendid.” His earlier words made sense now. Serguei wasn’t a fractured man—he was the fracture itself. I couldn’t even bear to imagine such pain.

“I’m sorry, Serguei.”

“Don’t be. Unfortunately, we can’t change the past, but the future is still unwritten. Seize your chances for change while you have them!”

He offered me a half smile and a wink. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the moment Zion looked at Serguei, saw him open his mouth to say something cruel. I kicked him under the table—hard enough to make the silverware rattle. Serguei seemed to notice but was wise enough to pretend to be oblivious to our silent exchange.

“We’ve placed the patient in a containment block,” Serguei said, directing his words at Zion. “No one besides Kyller and Kiara sensed anything strange, but I think it’s better to be safe.”

“Good,” Zion replied, then shot me a frown, as if baffled by my unexpected attack. I frowned at both of them and set my fork on my empty plate.

“You’re talking about the unconscious patient? What does Kiara have to do with him?”

Serguei nodded and stood to collect our silverware.

“You didn’t tell her, Zion?” He smiled at my partner, who just shot him a cutting look. “Oh, that’s right! There wasn’t time to tell her while she was using your chest for target practice.”

I rolled my eyes for the hundredth time that night and fought the urge to make a childish gesture at both of them.

“What happened?”

He set the plates at the corner of the table and returned to his seat.