Page 129 of Twisted Little Game

And I feel my heart beat faster in my chest.

“Roman,” Tate murmurs. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to. I don’t want any more walls between us, Tate. I want you so badly you could never know.”

For a moment I feel like I might cry, but then I’m smiling, wider and wider, smiling like he does when he can’t contain it.

I know what I am giving up.

My whole family.

My legacy.

Every person that loved my mom, that remembers her, that knew her, too. So many of my cousins are good people, trapped in a gilded cage that I have been for my whole life, too.

I won’t miss my father. But I will miss them.

And if they ever choose to get out, too, I will one day be able to see them again.

But…

I also know what I am gaining, if I cut ties.

Freedom, for the first time in my life.

True independence, terrifying and unfamiliar.

And him.

Tate fucking Landrey, a man that I am falling in love with, more and more every single time I am near him.

“I will spend the rest of my life protecting you,” I tell Tate. “If you drop me, I will still protect you. If you marry someone else, have kids, have some happy life without me, I will still be there, as your protection, any time you need. If any Maletti crosses your path, they will die.”

“Holy shit,” Maks says, looking down at his phone. “Speak of the fucking devils. I… holy fucking shit.”

“Tell me. Tell us,” I demand.

“Yegor is dead,” he says. “And he took the new Maletti Don with him. He was Lucian’s father’s best friend. Natalia, too, and two other Malettis—he eliminated them, Roman.”

“How do you know this?”

“Aleksander,” he says. “Yegor apparently sent him a message right before walking into his own fucking murder-suicide.”

Yegor was working with our cousin Aleksander in New York City earlier this year.

Another person I didn’t know if I could trust… and now I do.

The sound of heels clicking on the ground comes from the hallway, interrupting our shock.

In another moment, a frowning nurse pops her head into the room. She’s heavyset, looks very busy, and doesn’t even give us a nod as she walks up toward my bed.

“Come on, now,” she says, giving Tate a look to get out of her way. “Your boyfriend’s going to be in a whole lot of pain if you don’t let me give him his meds. Shoo.”

Tate steps to the side immediately.

The nurse isn’t friendly, but she is very good at her job. She switches over the little bag of my IV fluids expertly, then gives us an update on my status.

“You’ll be a bit sleepy here very soon, darlin’,” she tells me. “But by tomorrow morning you’ll be able to head home.”