52. Mira

52

MIRA

I can almost convince myself this is happening in my head. I've cracked. Lost the plot. My grip on reality is gone and I'm freefalling into a hallucination.

I can't see Dante, after all.

But I can feel him. There's no denying that.

His hand is clammy around my throat. His breath is hot and angry against the back of my neck. Something tells me his heart is beating as hard as mine is, but for a very different reason.

"It's been a long time." He squeezes tighter and I wheeze. "I've missed you."

I've spent years dreading this moment—waiting for it without ever fully expecting it to come. Now, it's here. He is here.

And I have no idea what to do.

I'm frozen. Terrified. The same way I was as a little girl, cowering in my room, hoping my dad and Dante wouldn't find me. I'm the same girl who would crumble to the ground while my dad yelled and kicked and spit. I'd curl up like an armadillo and wait for him to tire himself out.

But Dante isn't here to beat me.

He's here to kill me.

If I wait, I'll die.

As if to punctuate that point, Dante squeezes even tighter, closing my windpipe.

Finally, I drive an elbow back into his chest and break away from him.

He stumbles back with a groan and I manage to spin around to face him before he grabs me again.

"Maybe all of those kickboxing lessons are paying off." His mouth turns into what should be a smile, but it sends a chill down my spine. "What was all that training for? Were you hoping to fight back? I thought broken bottles were more your speed."

It's so much worse being able to see my brother. The last seven years have aged him seventy. His face is creased and lined. His skin is sallow. He looks like… like…

Like our dad.

"You don't need to do this, Dante." I try to step away, but his fingers are fisted in the collar of my shirt. "We can?—"

"We can do what? Hold hands and sing fucking Kumbaya ?" He spits on the floor to show what he thinks of that idea.

I can't think about the anger in his eyes or the firm hold he has on me. All I can think about is Aiden.

I told him he could come out if he heard Zane come home. What if Dante wakes him up? What if Aiden hears us and comes out?

I can't let myself imagine what my brother might do to my son.

"You want to kill me." It's not a question, but Dante answers it anyway.

"Yes. To put you down like a rabid fucking dog," he snarls.

My blood runs cold, but I refuse to shrink in front of him. "I'm still your sister. Don't you want to hear my side of the story before I'm gone forever?"

"You think I give a single fuck what you have to say?" He lashes out with a cruel laugh that makes me jump. Too loud. Too loud. "I didn't care what you thought when we were growing up together—so why would I care now that you're nothing more than the bitch who killed my father?"

"Because you've been chasing me for seven years. You've dedicated most of your adult life to tracking me down. There's no way you want it to be over so fast."

I hardly know what I'm doing. My mind is whirling, barking orders at me faster than I can follow.

Punch him in the larynx.

Find a weapon.

Get to your phone.

But all of those options could lead to raised voices and Aiden coming out of his room. They're not worth the risk.

He hauls me up almost to my tiptoes, trying to prove how much stronger he is than me. Just like old times. "You've always overestimated your worth, Katerina."

"I was worth seven years of your life."

"Our father was worth seven years of my life!" he fires back, seething. "The only reason I've been chasing after you is because of him. Because of what you did to him. You? You are worthless to me."

Some part of me hoped that Dante wasn't a monster all the way to his core. Over the years, I tried to make excuses for him, but staring up into his black eyes now, I know there is no good in him.

Nothing redeemable.

Nothing worth saving.

Before I can react, Dante yanks me off the floor by the front of my shirt and slams me down on the coffee table.

The air doesn't just rush out of me—it straight-up disappears. My lungs implode. I wheeze through several useless inhales before I can suck anything in at all, and then Dante is on top of me. His hand clutches around my throat.

Black is already creeping into the edges of my vision when I use every last bit of strength in my body to haul my legs up to my chest. I kick out, my foot glancing off of my brother's shoulder. It's not much, but it's enough for his hand to loosen.

Enough for me to suck in one much-needed breath of air.

Which is then enough for me to draw my arm back and land one solid punch to the left side of his face.

The force ricochets down my arm. My elbow aches. But Dante stumbles back, and I have an opening. I push myself to standing and lunge for my phone.

Evan. Zane. 911. It doesn't matter. I'll take anyone .

I'm fumbling to unlock it with my shaking thumbprint when I hear the door at the end of the hall squeak open.

No .

Tiny shuffling footsteps.

No . Please, God, no .

"Daddy?" Aiden's voice is raspy. Half-asleep.

"Oh, my. Who do we have here?" Dante croons.

I forget about the phone and jolt to my feet, standing between Aiden and Dante. Aiden is wide-eyed now. His blonde hair is mussed and he looks so much like Zane that it makes my heart ache.

"Mommy?" Aiden whispers.

"Go back to bed, Aiden." My voice cracks on his name. "Go to bed."

"No, stay," Dante offers in a way that feels more like a threat. "This is even better than I planned. A twofer."

I whirl around to face my brother. There is no plan, no ulterior motive. Just raw, pulsing fear. "Please don't hurt him."

He feigns a frown. "But it would feel so right , wouldn't it? You can watch me take your family out the same way I watched you take?—"

"Run, Aiden!" I scream, not waiting for my brother to finish his villain monologue. There isn't time. Not if I'm going to save my son. I dart past my brother and run for the front door. "Aiden, run! Hide!"

I tear open the front door and sprint into the darkness just like I did that night seven years ago. I don't have shoes or socks on and the cement shreds my feet, but I duck my head and push myself as hard as I can.

I have to get away from the house—away from Aiden. I need to put as much space between my brother and my son as I can. Maybe, while Dante goes for me, there will be time for Aiden to get himself help. Or maybe Zane will come home and find him before?—

I can't let myself think about another possibility.

This will work. It has to.

I chance a look back over my shoulder and, unlike the night that started it all, Dante is chasing after me this time. He's carving a quick path across the grass to cut me off at the gate.

I won't make it. I know I won't. But I sprint with all I have anyway.

For Aiden.

For his future.

For Zane and his son.

If this is how I go, it'll be worth it if the two of them survive.

I'm breathing hard and my limbs feel heavy, but some small part of me starts to wonder if I'll make it. Maybe I'll make it through the gate and down the road. A passing car could help me. Could scare Dante off. I could get back to Aiden and hold him, promise him everything will be okay now.

No sooner than the picture forms in my head, Dante slams into the back of me.

I plummet face-first into the lawn. Pain explodes across the bridge of my nose and deep in the back of my head. I gasp, but there's dirt and grass in my mouth, and Dante's knee against my spine is only grinding me further into the ground.

He's burying me. He's going to bury me alive, and Zane will find me dead. This will wreck him. He'll never forgive himself. It'll be all my fault.

Suddenly, Dante rolls me over. I take a gulping breath of air before he pins my back to the ground and bands both hands around my throat.

He's sweating and red-faced as he sneers down at me. "Dad always said you thought you were better than us. Look at you now. Living in this fancy house. Married to your rich hockey player. It's fucking pathetic."

I try to respond, but he's holding me too tight. Foam bubbles across my lips.

Dante said he didn't care what I have to say, but he loosens his grip so I can speak. "Zane is the man you wish you were," I croak.

My brother lets out a cruel, bitter laugh, but fury flashes in his eyes.

It hits me all at once how right I am.

"You hate me because I left. You hate me because—" I cough, and whether he means to or not, he releases my neck slightly. "You're mad because I found a life for myself outside of that house. Like Mom. The way you and Dad never could."

Dante is a dark shadow over me, silhouetted by the moon and the midnight sky overhead. His breath is hot on my face as he leans in too close. "Mom was a bitch who abandoned the only man who could ever love her."

I snort, the sound coming out in a rasp. "Dad has been dead seven years and you're still quoting him. You should get some new material."

I shouldn't taunt him, but the longer he's here with me, the more time there is for someone else to save Aiden.

"He's dead because you killed him!" he spits, winding back and slapping me hard across the face.

Red explodes behind my eye. I can already feel it swelling. But even through the pain, I manage a smile. "Wanna know something? Killing him was even better than I imagined it would be."

Dante roars and both hands close around my neck.

I knew it was coming, but I still claw at his hands and his arms. My mouth opens, trying to draw in air even though I know none will come.

I'd love to face the end with stoicism. I want to look into my brother's eyes and let him know I'm not scared of death. Not anymore.

The day I ran from my childhood home, I was so terrified—of what was behind me, what was in front of me. My life had only ever been pain, and I thought that was all it would ever be.

Now, I've seen the beauty.

Zane and Aiden and the little world we shared belonged to me for longer than I deserved, albeit nowhere nearly as long as I would have kept them if I had a choice. I knew I wouldn't get forever—but a taste of it was so, so beautiful.

As Dante leans over me, face red, lips pulled back in a snarl I can't hear over the ringing in my ears and the dying beats of my heart, all I see is Aiden and Zane.

And a bright white light.

I'm ready to walk towards it—but then Dante turns towards it, too.

He squints into it, actually.

I don't understand what's happening until a dark shadow charges at him, shoving my brother off of me.

I'm still on the ground. Still staring up at the sky. Then, like something out of a dream, Zane appears over me.

I wonder if I'm dead and this is my afterlife—but if so, Zane looks awfully terrified for someone in heaven. His blue eyes are wider than the sky, his skin deathly pale.

Maybe I got sent down south. I suppose that's not uncalled for.

"Mira!" His lips move around words I can barely hear. "Mira, are you okay? You have to get up!"

He's here with me, but he needs to be getting Aiden. Someone needs to help Aiden.

"Aiden," I wheeze. "Help Aiden."

Zane barks something over his shoulder and the white light disappears. Car lights.

Daniel . Daniel picked Zane up from the airport.

Daniel is going to help Aiden.

Aiden will be safe.

Nothing else has mattered to me since the moment I saw Dante. It was the only reason I fought, the only reason I ran.

I'm so relieved that I forget this isn't over until Dante screams from only a few feet away.

Zane turns, and I try to tell him to run. To save himself. But my throat is still raw, useless. I used whatever was left of my voice to warn them about Aiden. Now, it's completely gone.

And Zane doesn't run. He shields me.

The two men collide and roll into the grass.

Zane is bigger than Dante. Stronger. I've seen him hold his own on the ice and with Carson. He can take my brother, but I need to do something to make sure he wins.

I shove myself up to my hands and knees and crawl towards the driveway and the gate. I can see tire marks in the grass where Daniel must have swerved off of the drive so his headlights could illuminate our struggle in the grass. And a few feet from the tire marks, I see a long stick spilling out of a duffel bag.

A hockey stick.

My thoughts are still fuzzy, my body weak, but I want to help if I can.

I pick up the hockey stick and stand on shaky legs. I turn just in time to see Zane fall.

Dante stands over him and reaches for his waist. In the dim moonlight, there's a flash of silver.

A knife.

I silently scream into the night as he bends down and plunges it into Zane's torso.

I dig deep and run at my brother, finding energy reserves I didn't know I had. I lift the hockey stick over my head, mouth open in a battle cry my brother can't hear. One he doesn't know is coming.

He looks up at me just as I swing the hockey stick at his head.

Something sickening cracks.

Dante curses as he spins sideways. I swing the stick again and again. Bloody gashes open up on his face and his neck. He throws his hands up to defend himself, and I realize they're empty. The knife is gone.

It's lying on the ground next to my husband. Covered in his blood.

I push the thought from my mind as I throw the stick to the side and lunge for the knife.

Dante starts to sit up, but he's dazed and wounded. He isn't moving fast enough to stop me as I whirl around and stab the knife into the side of his neck.