Page 120 of Assassin: Part 1

I’m going to find a way to give Ilya’s chef a raise, because damn, they can cook. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually wanted to sit and enjoy a good meal, but I’m about ready to lick the plate clean.

This steak? Perfection. I don’t know what he put in the garlic mashed potatoes, but it’s goddamn crack. I want more. I eye Ilya’s plate, but he’s already finished his.

Pity. From the knowing grin on his face, he’s already figured out exactly what I’m thinking.

I make a mental note to get into Ilya’s systems again and find out how much he’s paying them. Definitely not enough.

“He also makes a mean chocolate cake,” Ilya says, revealing two large slices of magazine-worthy cake from the other tray. “If you’re nice to me, I might be convinced to let you have one of them.”

“Touch mine, and I will gut you,” I warn, not an ounce of humor in my voice. He stills, arching a brow at me. “One thing to know about me, pet: I do not fuck around about food. Get in my way, and I will make your death slow and painful.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “We really need to work on you realizing that you don’t have to threaten everyone to get your way, lisichka. A simple discussion about it will suffice.” He hands over one plated slice.

I blame the damn potatoes. That’s the only reason I can fathom my reply.

Forget that damn raise. I’m docking him.

“You’ll excuse me for not learning table manners when you had to spend the majority of your young life fighting over the shit, meager food they gave you. Saying please and thank you wasn’t exactly at the top of the list.”

I take a quick bite. The chocolate flavor explodes in my mouth, and I moan.

Never mind. He’s getting that raise. Double. I wonder if he makes red velvet.

I finally open my eyes, and Ilya’s watching me, expression hard and jaw tight. I arch a brow. “What? You can’t be jealous of the cake. Your cock is definitely preferred in my mouth, but this cake, it’s a very close second.”

Momentarily distracted, his expression softens and he asks, “What do you mean you had to fight for food? They starved you?”

The cake turns bitter in my mouth, but I swallow it. Damn it. What the fuck is wrong with me tonight? I can’t keep revealing this shit. I don’t care what he said earlier, giving him ammunition to hold over me is not acceptable.

So why are his words still echoing in my head after my freak-out earlier? I will never betray you. Even if we’re apart, I owe you that much for what you’ve done for Mila. For me.

Or this is the perfect test. Really find out what he’s going to say when he finds out just how fucked up I am. What will he think when he realizes everything I’m telling him is far worse than he can imagine?

Besides, the horrors of the school will get out. Those kids who were still going into it will spill it all at some point.

The fork clinks as it hits the plate, just to the edge of the cake. I stare at it for a second before I look back at him. Direct. Matter-of-fact. Unashamed.

“Their favorite thing to do was starve us. What better way to ensure compliance? Especially that young. No food or water for a few long days, and you’ll agree to anything to get it. But, of course, they couldn’t do only that. They had to test you. See who was the strongest. The cruelest and the one willing to take what they wanted; fuck the rest. They would give just enough food that only half of us could eat. The strongest and fastest got the most, the others went without. You learned to be one of those, or you were going to starve to death.”

“How old were you?”

“The first time? Five.” I give him a tight smile. “And I was not one of the strongest. Or fastest.”

“How long did you go without?”

“Until I figured out that being smarter was better. After the third time, there were five of us who were nothing more than skin and bones. Broken, battered, bruised, and weak. The others were still small and skinny, but at least they were fed. Maybe not what they wanted to be, but they were greedy, and even then, you could tell they were going to be the ones to win. So I watched, and I waited. I figured out the exact rotation of food that would come and when. And that time when they came, I had a knife I squirreled away, and I stabbed the hand of the biggest boy who tried to take it first.”

He blinks. “You were five?”

“Closer to six, but yes. And as weak as I was, it scared them all enough that they backed off. It was the only time I shared with the others who were like me, but we ate it all, and the other kids who had been eating felt what it was like to be hungry.”

“And why was that the only time you ever shared?”

“Because the others died from the injuries the instructors inflicted. I was the only one spared, if you want to call it that, because I showed promise. Pasha had noticed me on his cameras, the way I didn’t hesitate or flinch. That’s where the true testing began.”

I see the horror in his eyes and the reality that he might not be ready to actually hear everything I’ve been through. I wait for the disgust, but it never comes.

“And this testing, it’s as bad as I’m thinking?” He picks up his fork, and the metal bends under his grip. He’s trying to hide his emotions, but there’s no missing it.