Page 48 of Arrow

I left him there with the ghosts and the scotch and climbed the stairs, fury rising in my throat until it was almost a comfort. In the mirror above my bathroom sink, I looked wild, hair wet from the rain, smeared makeup in streaks down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Arrow would do on our wedding night.

Maybe he’d fuck me like a whore, or maybe he’d just watch as I undid myself, slow and meticulous, and only touch me to document the aftermath.

* Venomous little viper

13

THIRTEEN

HARLOWE

Islept for two dreamless hours, then woke at dawn and showered, washing away the sticky residue of cum and rainwater. Downstairs, I smelled eggs and smoke. Frank never cooked, but he was at the stove with a spatula. He heaped scrambled eggs onto a plate, poured a mug of black coffee, and set both on the island.

He didn’t look at me while I ate.

“You’ll need a sober head and at least three hundred calories if you’re going to outlive your wedding planner today.”

Chewing silently, I felt my mouth working around the food like I’d forgotten how to swallow. It tasted of nothing. I finished half the plate and pushed the rest away, sliding the mug after it until the rim tilted just past the granite ledge. I watched it tip and stay there on gravity’s mercy, resisting the urge to let it fall.

Frank leaned back against the fridge, arms crossed. “Mr. Rovanov’s coming at ten.”

“Why can’t you drive me?”

“He insisted.”

His lips folded tight over the words, and for a moment, he looked old, the years spent mopping up other people’s violence raw on his face.

I snorted. “I don’t care what he insisted. We’re not married yet.”

Did that bastard think I’d roll over and take it? That I would just let him dictate the last days before I became a prisoner?

He shook his head. “Don’t make it harder on yourself, Principessa.”⁠*

Frank didn’t say more because there wasn’t anything left to say, not between the two of us, not with the day of reckoning finally clawing its way into the light.

Upstairs, I dressed, and then I left before Arrow showed up. He was out of his mind if he thought I’d get in a car with him.

Fuck Arrow Romanov.

I stormed the block after ditching Frank, using some strong expletives. My breath was visible in the morning gloom.

The first train out was half drunks and half ghosts, nobody looking at anyone. I wedged myself into the seat by the window, crossing my arms so tight my nails bit into my skin. Arrow was a goddamn fool if he thought I’d ever forget what his family did to my brother.

But the city was an enemy, too, and it conscripted me right back into routine, hyperaware that one of his goons was probably reporting back to him right now. Three stops away, I ducked into a donut shop and ordered black coffee I didn’t want. The city clerk behind the counter, some sad-eyed college student, flinched at the bruises on my face.

“Rough night?” he asked.

I smiled. “The rougher, the better.”

He flushed bright red. He liked it, grazing my fingers when he handed me the cup, and for half a second, I wondered what it would be like, just for one day, if I ran off with someone like that—let the city swallow us both. Exist in a universe where no one’s name was a death sentence.

I savored the fantasy as long as it lasted, but my phone lit up before the first sip went down.

Arrow.

Except, I’ve changed his name to Fucking Limp Dick Asshole in my contacts.

Ignoring his call, I threw my phone back into my purse. When my phone started ringing again, I ignored it again.