“People like you?”

  “Monsters.” The word falls between us like a stone. “I know that’s what you think of me—and so you should. Or did you think your sweet little innocent act would somehow transform me into someone worthy of love?”

  “That’s not⁠—”

  “No?” She steps closer, and I can see the sharp edges of her smile. “Was it pity, then? You felt sorry for me? Poor, damaged Eva, who just needed the right woman to show her the light?”

  “What are you talking about?” I gasp. I’m getting angry despite myself, despite all my best intentions. And the worst thing is, I know she’s trying to anger me.

  She wants a fight. It’s easier to rage than to grieve.

  “You want to know what I think?” She’s close enough now that I can smell her perfume, the same scent that used to make me dizzy with desire. “I think you’re exactly like all the others. You saw a wealthy, powerful woman and you thought you could wrap her around your little finger. Make her dependent on you. Make her need you.”

  “That’s complete bullshit,” I snap.

  “Is it, though?” She reaches out and strokes my shoulder, the gesture almost tender. “You played your part perfectly. The innocent little lamb, so pure and good. So different from everyone else in my world. But you’re not really, are you? You’re just another whore who spread her legs for money.”

  I don’t think. I just act. My hand whips out and I slap her across the face.

  Hard.

  She regards me coldly, a red mark on her cheek the only sign I hit her. “I’ll let you compose yourself.” She turns and walks to the door, but she pauses in the doorway.

  For a crazy moment I think she’ll apologize. That she’ll tell me she didn’t mean any of it.

  “This is all your fault,” she says over her shoulder, her voice dropping to something poisonous.

  “My fault?” I choke out, astonished.

  “You disobeyed me. You opened that door I told you never to open. Do you know the story of Pandora, little bird? How she opened the box she was told to leave alone? Everyone thinks hope was left behind in that box to comfort humanity. But they’re wrong.” Her smile is more of a sneer. “Hope is the worst evil of them all. And you—you inflicted it on me. You made me think my father might wake up. You made me think I might find a companion in the darkness.”

  Her amber eyes are no longer cold. They’re blazing now, wild with fury.

  “But you were lying the whole time, weren’t you? Because I will always be alone—that’s the only guarantee this world gives any of us. And my father...” Her voice cracks for just a moment before she regains control. “My father will never smile at me again.”

  “Eva—”

  She turns back around. “Don’t make this into something it wasn’t, Robin. We both got what we wanted. You got your money, and I got my entertainment. Now it’s over. Your transport will be here in one hour.”

  The door closes behind her with a soft click, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my heart.

  I stand there for a long moment, my legs shaking. The maid returns and continues packing, her movements gentle and apologetic. I watch her fold up clothes—the beautiful dresses Eva bought me in Paris, the silk nightgowns, the designer shoes. Everything that transformed me from a struggling teacher’s aide into something worthy of a woman like Eva.

  But none of it was real. None of it mattered.

  I told myself I wouldn’t get attached. I told myself this was just a transaction, a way to save my family. But somewhere along the way, I forgot that Eva Novak doesn’t do love. She does possession. She does control.

  She does cruelty.

  “No,” I say to the maid. “No—I don’t want any of it. Stop packing it up, I don’t want it.” I start pulling the clothes out of the suitcases, throwing the suitcases themselves aside. The maid skips out of the way, frightened by my anger. “I’m sorry,” I say helplessly, catching myself before I really melt down. “I’m sorry—but no.” I’m too shaken to find the word in her language, but she seems to understand, giving a slight nod and leaving the room.

  I dress quickly in a pair of jeans and a simple sweater, the plainest things I can find.

  And I leave the room.

  An hour later, waiting in the foyer for a car, I catch sight of Leon, who approaches me with his arm in a sling, and holds out my phone to me silently.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, taking it. He gives a single nod. “Leon…watch over Eva, won’t you?”

  “I always do.”

  “I mean—more than protecting her. She’s grieving. Make sure she’s okay?”

  I might hate her. But I can’t stop caring about her. It’s my stupid, naïve heart. I can’t stop loving once I’ve started, no matter how much it hurts. Even my father, who deserted us.

  And even Eva Novak.

  Soon enough, I’m sitting in the back of a car watching the castle disappear behind the trees. The driver doesn’t speak, but I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. They’re kind, sympathetic.

  We drive through the village one more time, past the black ribbons and the bowed heads. I wonder if they realize what I am. Another girl who went to the castle and didn’t come back—not the same, anyway.

  I’m leaving.

  But the girl who arrived here is gone forever.

  And now the question is: what’s left of me to take home?

  As the car reaches the main road and the castle fades from view, I press my face to the window and allow myself one last look at the place that became my prison and my paradise. I told myself I wouldn’t get attached.

  Now I don’t know how to let go.

  Chapter 26

  Eva

  Iwatch from my bedroom window as the black car disappears down the winding mountain road, carrying Robin back to her pathetic little American life. My chest tightens like a vise, but I force myself to remain perfectly still, remind myself that this is no different from any other woman I’ve had in the past.

  She was nothing more than a distraction—a sweet little plaything who forgot her place.

  I press my palm against the glass, and for one insane moment, I want to chase after that car. Want to drag her back to my castle where she belongs.

  Mine. She was mine.

  No—that was always a lie. She was a mirage, not salvation. And now it’s back to business.

  The next few hours pass in a blur of action. This is what I know how to do—command, organize, control. It’s all I have left.

  I organize the cremation, the urn, the plaque.

  After that, with nothing else to do, I find myself in the medical wing, staring at the empty bed where my father once lay. The machines are gone, disconnected and wheeled away by the same careful hands that tended him for months. The room feels hollow, sterile. Dead.

  I press my palm to the cool mattress and close my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. Papa teaching me to aim a pistol when I was barely tall enough to hold it steady. The way he’d laugh when I beat him at chess, proud of the strategic mind he’d helped shape.

  He’ll smile at you again, Robin’s voice echoes in my memory, soft and certain. I know he will.

  Lies. All of it. Hope is poison, and I was fool enough to drink it.

  I slam my fist against the wall, the impact sending shockwaves up my arm. The pain is grounding, real. Unlike the fairy tale Robin spun with her optimism and her ridiculous faith in happy endings.

  My phone buzzes. Leon, checking on funeral arrangements. I text him back curtly, then realize I should see him in person. He took a bullet in Paris—for me—and I’ve barely given him a thought since we returned.

  Guilt is an unfamiliar emotion. I don’t like it.

  I find Leon in the security room, his massive frame hunched over surveillance monitors. His left shoulder is bandaged, his arm in a sling, but his fingers are still flying over the keyboard. Still protecting me, even when I don’t deserve it.

  He looks up when I enter, and I see something flicker in his weathered face—concern, maybe. Or pity. I hate both.

  “You look like hell,” he says bluntly. Leon’s never been one for sugar-coating.

  “Charming as always.” I move to stand behind him, studying the screens. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “I’ve had worse.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “You did the right thing. Sending her away.”

  I say nothing, but my hands clench. He’s right. I know he’s right. But knowing doesn’t make the hollow ache in my chest any less devastating.

  “She asked me to take care of you,” Leon says suddenly. “Before she left.”

  “She what?”

  “Asked me to watch out for you.” Leon’s smile is sad. “Smart girl. Stupid, but smart.”

  Even after everything I said to her, even after I called her a whore, she was still trying to care for me. For the monster who tried to destroy her.

  I close my eyes, and suddenly I can hear her voice as clear as if she were standing beside me, begging me not to shut her out.

  But she’s not here. She’s gone. And it’s my fault.

  I retreat to my private study and pour myself a glass of the Novak family’s aniseed liqueur. Sweet and rough, it slides down my throat, warming my chest but doing nothing to fill the hollow ache inside.

  I pour another.

  Then another.

  I send for Mrs. Kovacs. “That guest room,” I tell her. “Clear it out.”

  “She…left a great deal,” Mrs. Kovacs says.

  “Then get rid of it!”

  For the first time I’ve known her, Mrs. Kovacs hesitates slightly. “Some of the clothes are very expensive⁠—”

  “Burn them.” The words come out harder than I intended. “Or pass them out in the damn village. I don’t care what you do with them. Just get them out of the castle.”

  She nods quickly and hurries away. I pour another drink.

  This won’t do. I can’t get drunk; I’ll make stupid decisions. Stupider than I already have…

  I set down the glass and go for a walk around my domain. The Great Room draws me like a wound I can’t stop picking at. I stand in the doorway, staring at the rug in front of the massive stone fireplace, and I swear I can still smell her in the air. Still hear the echo of her laughter bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.

  She was mine. Every breath she took, every tremor of pleasure, every soft moan in the darkness—they were mine.

  But I threw her away like she was nothing. Like she meant nothing.

  The thought sends a fresh wave of rage through me, but I can’t tell if I’m angry at her or at myself. She was just another acquisition, I tell myself. A foolish little girl with big blue eyes, led by her silly heart, a beauty who thought she could save the beast.

  But even as I think it, I know it’s a lie.

  I’m still standing there when I hear footsteps in the hall. Uncle Stefan appears in the doorway, his silver-threaded hair gleaming, his face creased with concern.

  “You look like Zoltan did after your mother died,” he says gently, and the observation cuts deep.

  I straighten my spine, snapping out of my haze. This is not who I am. I am not some lovesick fool mourning a girl who meant nothing.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, but my voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.

  Stefan studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “The shooting in Paris—how is Leon?”

  Another stab of guilt. “Recovering. He’ll be fine. And I will find the shooter and make them suffer.”

  “Good. And…the girl?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Gone. Back to America where she belongs. I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

  Stefan’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Is that…all she was?”

  “Of course,” I continue, hating how defensive I sound.

  “Of course.” His tone is carefully neutral. And then he breaks into a sad smile as he shakes his head admiringly. “Zoltan would be so proud of you, Eva. You’re no wildcat. You are every inch the Beast of the Blacklake that he was.”

  The praise should feel good.

  So why doesn’t it?

  Stefan moves closer, his expression growing serious. “And now you know what you must do. It’s time to prioritize avenging him.”

  “Yes.” I lift my chin. “I will make the world tremble once more at the might of Novak vengeance.”

  “That’s my girl.” Stefan nods approvingly.

  “I’m grateful for your support, Uncle. And for your love of family.”

  “Family is the most important thing,” he says gruffly, pulling me into a brief embrace. “It’s all we have in this world.”

  We hug, and for a moment I feel almost steady. Almost whole. Stefan is staying for the night, but leaves me to make some business calls. “We’ll dine together,” he promises.

  And then I’m alone again with my thoughts.

  I pace the Great Room, trying to focus on plans for revenge. Someone killed my father. Someone will pay. This is what matters now—not some naive girl with strawberry blonde hair and impossible dreams.

  But my mind keeps drifting. Robin, stepping off that plane in Vegas. Robin, walking back into her small apartment with her sick sister and her mounting bills. Robin, with no protection, no security, and potentially a target on her back.

  I stop pacing.

  In Paris, we were seen together everywhere. At the hotel, in restaurants, walking through the streets. Anyone watching would have drawn the obvious conclusion—that Eva Novak had found herself another pretty little pet.

  But what if someone got the wrong idea? What if someone thought Robin actually meant something to me?

  She doesn’t, of course. But she’s soft. Foolish. All that hope and determination that made her so infuriating also makes her incredibly easy to manipulate.

  To hurt.

  And I sent her away without protection. Without even a warning…

  Chapter 27

  Robin

  The neon lights of Las Vegas don’t feel welcoming. Everything here is too bright, too loud, too sharp after the Gothic beauty of Eva’s castle. I clutch my phone, not yet steady enough to call Adrian and let him know I’m home, and I head out of the airport to find a taxi.

  I feel dazed. Not even jetlagged, just…

  I don’t fit in here anymore.

  The taxi ride home passes in a blur of familiar streets that now feel foreign. Nothing’s changed, but everything’s different. I’m different.

  Broken, maybe.

  Our apartment building looks even worse than I remember. I climb the stairs on unsteady legs, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  “Robin?” Adrian’s voice cracks as he opens the door. Despite his joyful surprise, he looks terrible—pale, exhausted, like he’s aged a year in the short time I’ve been gone. Behind him, I catch glimpses of Alicia and Dane peering around the corner with cautious eyes.

  “I’m home,” I say, and try to smile, and then I’m in their arms, trying to hold myself together as they cling to me.

  “Did you win?” Alicia asks, but her voice is too careful, too quiet.

  “Win?” I echo blankly.

  “The show,” Dane prompts with a smile that’s too small.

  “Oh.” I should have expected this. “I didn’t win the whole thing. But I did win some money.”

  “That’s great news,” Adrian says, with such relief that I know something bad is going on.

  “Is Maisie in bed?” I ask. “I don’t want to wake her, but I⁠—”

  “Come over here,” Adrian says quickly, but the look he exchanges with Dane and Alicia has me worried. Adrian pulls me into the kitchen.

  “Adrian, what’s happening? Where’s Maisie?”

  “She’s back in the hospital.”

  “What?” There’s too much heat behind the explosion, and Adrian winces. “Why didn’t you tell me when I called⁠—”

  “I couldn’t,” Adrian tells me, his voice breaking. “I wanted you to have this one good thing. This one chance to change things for us.”

  Even he thought it was real. The fantasy I sold him was as stupid as the one I sold myself. The idea that we could change anything.

  “I need to see her,” I say, and I start to move, but Adrian catches me back.

  “Wait,” he says softly. He reaches for something in the mail stack on the counter, where he’s obviously kept it inconspicuously behind brochures and coupon flyers. “There’s something else,” he whispers. “The kids don’t know about this yet.”

  I take the envelope, and my stomach clenches when I see our address typed across the front. Official. Legal. The kind of envelope that destroys lives.

  I tear it open with numb fingers.

  It’s an eviction notice.

  I stare at the bold, black letters until they blur. All the legal language fades into background noise except for one phrase that stands out like a scream:

  …seven days to pay the balance or vacate the premises…

  “When did this come?” I ask urgently.

  “Just today. But if you won some money, maybe we could… Right?” He looks at me hopefully.

  But that just makes everything worse, that hope in his eyes. Seven days isn’t long enough. My payout from Eva won’t be in my account until after the deadline on this notice.

  So it’s all been for nothing. All of it.

  I thought I was saving my family. Instead, I left them to burn in false hope while I played princess in a tower. And now I see that Eva was right.

  Hope is a curse, not a blessing.

  And now I only have seven days to figure out how to save us all.

  Eva Novak strolls casually—and cruelly—back into Robin’s life in

  Her Wicked Promise

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