23. LEIGH

Chapter 23

LEIGH

A knock at my door pulls me from sleep, the sound distant yet insistent. I stretch, blinking at the morning light filtering through the curtains. Despite the previous day’s exhaustion, I feel groggy, like I’ve been dragged from the depths of a restless dream.

“Come in,” I call, surprised by the steadiness of my voice.

The door creaks open, and Tracy steps in, a bright smile plastered across her face. She’s carrying a steaming cup of coffee, placing it on the bedside table. A glance at my watch tells me it’s six in the morning.

“Good morning, Leigh,” she chirps. “Today’s a big day. We’re heading to Vegas, and I’ve been tasked with taking you shopping for a special dress.”

The word Vegas sends a jolt through me. My heart quickens, excitement and unease swirling in equal measure. Vegas means freedom—escape. A chance to start orchestrating my plan for the Gamblers Cross .

But beneath that flicker of hope, a knot tightens in my chest. What’s Radomir planning? Why is he suddenly letting me loose in Vegas on a shopping spree? What is the catch?

“You look tired,” Tracy observes, walking toward the dressing room. She stops, frowning at the door handle that won’t budge. “Did you lock this?”

I sit up, my brow furrowing. Did I lock the doors? I glance at the bedside table where a small set of keys sits innocuously.

“There they are!” Tracy exclaims. “Mind if I unlock this?”

The sight of the keys jolts my memory. Last night. The songbook. Him . A sharp ache blossoms behind my temples, and my breath hitches. My head feels like Swiss cheese, riddled with holes where memories should be.

“Leigh?” Tracy’s voice breaks through my daze. “You okay?”

I force a smile, brushing away the rising panic. “Yeah. I locked the doors in a fit of paranoia. This place is too big and creepy at night.”

She laughs, unlocking the doors one by one. “I don’t blame you. If I had to sleep alone in a place like this, I’d barricade myself in too.”

I nod absently, my eyes darting to the pillow beside me. Something peeks out from underneath. My chest tightens. Slowly, I lift the pillow, revealing my mother’s songbook. My heart pounds as I flip it open, and a note slips out:

Don’t be afraid, Lulu-Petal. Take it one page at a time. I’ll be close if you need me. ~ Papa

P.S. Hide this book. Your phone’s been cloned.

A searing white-hot pain slices through my skull, making me gasp. Clutching my head, I shove the book into the bedside drawer. The world tilts, nausea surging as bile rises in my throat. I stumble into the bathroom just in time to retch into the toilet.

“Leigh!” Tracy rushes in, her voice laced with concern. She kneels beside me, her hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a migraine,” I manage, slumping against the cool tiles.

Her eyes widen. “Can I get you something? Aspirin? Tea?”

“Both, if you can manage,” I croak, my head throbbing. “And maybe a new brain.”

She chuckles nervously, brushing my hair from my face. “I’ll be right back. The shower’s on if you feel up to it.”

As the door closes behind her, I strip and step under the hot water, letting it pound against my aching head. The heat soothes the tension in my shoulders, but it can’t chase away the fog clouding my mind. Images flash— Nikolas, the songbook, his warning —but they’re fleeting, slippery. I can’t pin them down.

Two hours later, I’m caught in a whirlwind of designer stores and dizzying opulence. Tracy is in her element, flitting from rack to rack like a bird collecting shiny things, while Fredrik trails behind us, laden with bags.

My stomach growls angrily, a reminder of my skipped breakfast and the miserable moment I emptied whatever was left in my stomach into the toilet earlier. My head still aches, the pain simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

“I need food,” I declare, cutting Tracy off mid-sentence. “I’m not trying on another gown until I eat.”

Tracy hesitates, her gaze darting nervously to Fredrik, who loiters nearby like an immovable shadow.

“It’s not on the schedule,” she says apologetically, her voice uncertain.

“Where’s your phone?” I demand, my patience wearing thin. I’ve been dragged around the shops marching to Radomir’s fucking schedule for hours. Anger bubbles up inside me.

Her brows knit together as she cautiously pulls her phone from her pocket, clutching it tightly like a lifeline. I snatch it from her before she can protest, dialing Radomir with trembling fingers and a rising wave of defiance.

“Tracy?” His deep voice answers after two rings.

“It’s Leigh,” I snap, my tone sharper than I intend.

My emotions balancing on a knife edge as I can’t help but wonder what Radomir was up to last night, or who he was fucking. From nowhere a wave of jealousy hits me, and I’m bombarded with images of him with another woman.

I shake it away, clenching my fist so hard my nails bite into the tender skin of my palm. I don’t give a shit what he does or who he does it with, I remind myself. “I’m starving, and we’re going to Mon Ami Gabi for breakfast. Consider it your treat.”

There’s a pause, then a low chuckle. “You’re in a good mood today, ptichka.” Sarcasm mingles with the amusement in his voice making the temperature of my anger rise. “Enjoy your breakfast. But don’t take too long. You have an important function today.”

I hang up without responding, tossing the phone back to Tracy. “Let’s go.”

The restaurant is bustling but elegant, the perfect distraction from the gnawing unease in my chest. Tracy relaxes over mimosas, but I can’t shake the growing suspicion that something is amiss. The way she avoids my gaze when I mention Radomir, the way Fredrik’s eyes never leave me—it’s suffocating.

After breakfast, the shopping resumes, but this time it’s different. She’s taking me into boutique after boutique filled with wedding dresses.

“This feels... specific,” I say as Tracy hands me another gown to try on.

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Radomir wants you to have a nice white gown—something like a wedding dress I was told.”

I freeze, the silk fabric slipping through my fingers. “A wedding dress? Tracy, what’s going on?”

She looks uncomfortable but tries to laugh it off. “It’s probably for the charity ball on Saturday. They always have a theme.”

The charity ball. A bridal theme? It doesn’t make sense. Panic claws at my chest, but I tamp it down, forcing myself to go along. For now! Then I see the dress. All thought and unease dissolve as I stare in sheer awe.

It’s breathtaking, a vision of lace and silk with intricate beading that catches the light.

“You have to try it on,” Tracy insists as I walk over to it.

She pulls the dress from the rail and practically shoves me toward the dressing room.

When I step out, her gasp says it all.

“You look...” Tracy trails off, her eyes misting.

I turn to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. The dress clings perfectly, the train pooling at my feet like starlight. It fits me like it was made just for me.

“We’ll take it,” Tracy tells the boutique owner, her voice firm.

“Wait, Tracy, no—“ I catch sight of the price tag and feel my knees wobble. “That’s insane!”

She waves me off. “I was told—any dress you want!”

The boutique owner brings out more champagne while we wait for her to finish the transaction and carefully prepares the dress for us. My stomach churns with unease as I can’t help but feel I’m walking into a trap.

Back at the penthouse, the atmosphere feels... off. The staff is bustling, hanging decorations in the living room, while the air is heavy with the overwhelming scent of fresh flowers. Something isn’t right. Everyone keeps casting me strange, knowing glances. I’m about to comment to Tracy when a towering man steps into my path.

His icy blue eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. He’s even taller, broader, and more intimidating than Radomir—a presence that demands submission.

“You must be Leigh,” he says, his deep voice commanding the room’s attention. “I’m Oleksi Mirochin, Radomir’s cousin.”

He extends his hand, and though I hesitate, I can’t avoid placing mine in his. The moment his fingers close around mine in a firm handshake, I notice the ring on his middle finger. A jolt of fragmented images slams into me, sharp and disorienting, like shards of glass piercing my mind. Disjointed. Vivid. Terrifying.

A wave of fear crashes over me, visceral and uncontrollable, like a snake striking and sinking its venom into my veins. My instincts take over, and I yank my hand back so forcefully, pain shoots through my shoulder.

“Hello,” I croak, stepping back, heart pounding. Panic coils in my stomach as I try to mask my reaction.

Before Oleksi can say more, a tall woman approaches, her movements graceful but deliberate.

“Hello, Leigh,” the woman greets me, her voice smooth, almost familiar. A hazy image swims before my eyes, and the sharp pain tearing at my temples intensifies. Her next words are muffled by the roar of my pulse. “It’s nice to meet you.” Her eyes flick to Tracy, and she speaks in Russian, glancing at Oleksi.

Tracy stiffens beside me, her face paling. She nods but doesn’t speak.

“What’s going on?” I demand, my voice trembling.

“Mr. Mirochin needs to speak with me,” Tracy says, her tone guarded. Then, gesturing to the woman, she adds, “This is my sister Judy. She’ll help you get dressed for your—“

Judy’s name strikes like a hammer to my brain, and I don’t hear the end of Tracy’s sentence. A voice from deep within—a memory muffled and distorted, like an old, warped cassette—echoes: Judy, help her! My body jerks as if struck by lightning.

A deafening blast reverberates in my mind, and I feel vibrations in my hands. Another voice screams: Get her out of here! She’s just a kid, for fuck’s sake!

“Leigh?” Judy’s worried voice cuts through the chaos. “Are you okay?”

“What?” I blink, trying to shake off the dizziness. My ears ring, and my hands tremble, still buzzing with phantom vibrations.

“Leigh!” Oleksi barks, his tone impatient and biting. “Stop stalling. You need to go with Judy and get dressed. You’re marrying Radomir today and I won’t tolerate any of your tricks.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer. My legs buckle, and I grasp at the wall for support. Marry? My head spins.

“No,” I whisper, the word barely audible. “This isn’t happening.”

The elevator dings, drawing my attention. Despite the nausea and pounding headache, my fight-or-flight instincts flare. The doors slide open, and my heart leaps. Escape .

But Oleksi blocks me before I can bolt. His hand clamps onto my arm, his grip bruising, his fingers digging into a scar I know too well. My eyes lock onto the round pink blemish, and the room tilts. It’s the scar I got when a bolt when through my arm in the accident that killed my mother.

Oleksi leans closer, his voice low and threatening. “Don’t even try it.”

His words echo through my skull, fusing with another voice from the past. Don’t even try it! If you pull it out, she could bleed to death! My mind splinters, dragging me back into the abyss.

Twelve Years Ago

“It hurts, Papa,” I whimper, my voice barely audible. The arrow embedded in my arm burns like hellfire, the heat spreading through my body, making it hard to breathe. “I can pull it out.”

“No, Lulu-Petal, don’t even think about it,” Papa snaps, his voice sharp and almost unrecognizable. His green eyes, usually so warm and full of love, brim with fear.

“You pull it out, Papa,” I beg, my breaths coming weaker and weaker.

“I can’t, sweetheart,” he says, his voice cracking. Before I can respond, the woman beside him interrupts. She’s beautiful, but her face is bruised and streaked with blood.

“Are you sure you can’t pull it out?” the woman asks, her voice trembling. “The poison is spreading so fast.”

“If he pulls it out, she’ll bleed to death,” it’s another female voice—she’s a lot younger than the other one. “We can’t touch the bolt either because of the poison.”

A tall man strides into the room. “I’ve taken care of the video feed. Alexandra’s gone with the evidence,” he says, his tone brisk.

My vision blurs, but I force myself to focus on him. He’s handsome, his jaw tight with tension as he drops to his knees beside me. “Hang in there, little duchess,” he says, his voice breaking. “Sol and I will find the antidote. Don’t stop fighting, okay? Do you hear me? We’re going to find that bastard.”

My head lolls as darkness creeps in. I barely register the tear slipping down his unshaved cheek before he roars at Papa, “Can’t you pull the fucking arrow out?”

“No!” Papa barks back. “It might have hit an artery. Wipe everything down! Don’t let anything trace back to us—especially not to Leigh!”

The older woman strokes my hair softly. “It’s okay, darling. Close your eyes.”

Her name hovers just on the edge of my memory, but I can’t grasp it. It slips away, disappearing into the haze.

“Iceman…” I whisper, my chest tightening as panic rises. A chilling laugh echoes somewhere deep in my mind. “He’s going to come after me.”

The darkness swallows me whole.

Present Day

“Leigh!” Judy’s voice cuts through the suffocating darkness. “Leigh, wake up!”

“No, Judy.” Panic grips me, squeezing the air from my lungs. “You have to go. If you’re caught here…”

My eyes snap open, and I see Judy staring at me, her face pale and stricken, fear shimmering in her wide eyes.

The room tilts, and the past starts to dissolve into the present. My heart pounds in my chest, and in a flash, I know I’ve seen her before. It’s not clear—not yet—but it’s as if I’ve dragged one piece of my buried memories into the light. The edges are still jagged, blurry, but it’s something.

“I know you,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “You’re someone from my past.”

Judy blinks, hesitating for a moment before composing herself. “We’re all from Vegas. We’ve probably crossed paths. Your mother sang at the Diamond Lounge, and I waited tables there while I was in college. You probably know me from that.”

Her explanation feels half-true, but I know there’s more—so much more. Before I can press her, the door bursts open, the noise jolting me out of my thoughts. I realize I’m no longer standing in the hallway. I’m in a strange bedroom, lying on an unfamiliar bed.

“How did I get here?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“You passed out,” Judy says, just as Radomir storms into the room with Oleksi close behind.

“I’ve got this handled, cousin. Go take your place,” Oleksi snaps, his tone hard and dismissive.

Radomir doesn’t even acknowledge him. His voice booms as he commands, “Clear the room. Now!”

Judy flinches but obeys, moving toward the door. Oleksi hesitates, glaring at me as if daring me to speak.

Radomir kneels beside the bed, his icy exterior cracking just enough for me to see something unexpected—gentleness. Worry. And… fear?

“Leigh,” he says, his voice softer now. “Are you okay? Did my cousin hurt you? What happened?”

“I barely fucking touched her,” Oleksi growls from across the room, his tone dripping with contempt.

“Get out!” Radomir roars, standing abruptly. His fury fills the room, making the air feel heavy.

“Oleksi,” Judy hisses, placing a hand on his arm. “Give them a moment.”

Oleksi sneers. “It’s one of her tricks. I can’t believe you of all people would fall for it, Radomir.”

“What happened?” I croak, my throat dry. Confusion wraps around me like a thick fog, and my mind spins. The memories, the voices, the images—they swirl and blur, as if my brain is trying to piece together a broken puzzle.

Oleksi’s voice cuts through the haze. “I’ll tell you what happened. Your little con is holding up the ceremony, and we don’t have the judge here for much longer.”

“What ceremony?” I frown, clutching at the sheets beneath me. My thoughts twist and spiral. The past and present collide violently, creating an incoherent whirlwind of fear and fragmented images. Nothing fits. None of it makes sense.

“Leave us, cousin!” Radomir’s voice slices through the chaos like a blade. He steps toward Oleksi, his tone dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “If the judge leaves, find another. This town has more than one in our pocket.”

Oleksi glares at me one last time before Judy grabs his arm and pulls him toward the door. “Listen to Radomir for once,” she snaps. “This is why everyone calls you the Iceman.”

The door closes behind them, but the word Iceman echoes in my skull like a death knell. My chest tightens, and a cold, primal fear claws its way up my throat.

“He’s going to kill everyone and come for me,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My voice trembles with terror. “The Iceman wants me—and everyone else—dead.”

“What?” Radomir’s sharp gaze locks onto mine. “Leigh, what are you talking about?”

But I’m already gone, slipping back into the darkness.

The monsters are waiting for me there. They hold my memories hostage, mocking me with flashes of my past, feeding on my growing terror. I run through the blank spaces of my mind, gathering broken shards of memories, but they don’t fit together. They only lead me back to him.

The Iceman.

He’s there, waiting in the shadows, his laugh echoing in the void as I run and hide. He’s the biggest monster of all, and I know he won’t stop until he destroys everything and everyone around me—until he gets me .