Year Three (Kingmakers, #3)

by Sophie Lark

“You like how I look tonight?” I ask. This is my first time dressing as a woman, not a girl—sultry, sophisticated. I didn’t know if it worked, or I only look ridiculous. “Cat,” Dean says seriously. “There’s no one more beautiful than you.”

“What are you thinking?” I ask him, half-fearful. “I was thinking how different you look. You’re fucking gorgeous, Cat. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” “Oh, come on—” I’m personally acquainted with several of the actual most gorgeous women at this school. “You are!” Dean says ferociously. “Cat, you came here a scared kid. And now look at you—I wouldn’t even recognize you. You’re dark. Devious. And absolutely fucking stunning.”

Dean takes my face in his hands and kisses me. We’ve kissed a thousand times in sex. But never once like this, out in the open . . . as two people, falling in love.

I was thinking it was the first night in a month that we hadn’t fucked each other. And yet . . . it might have been my favorite night together, despite how much I had enjoyed all the others.

“That was nice at breakfast,” Cat says. “All of us sitting together like that.” “It wasn’t bad,” I say, by way of agreement. Cat looks at me with those dark eyes, always alive and curious, never restful. “You don’t seem to hate Leo as much as you once did.” “We’re not friends,” I say roughly. “But you don’t want to kill him anymore.” Ah. So he told her about that. That’s fine—I own my actions. Even those that might have been driven by a sort of madness at the time. “Yes, I tried to drown him,” I say, refusing to deny it. “You must have been . . . very disappointed,” Cat says, looking at her feet. “About Anna.” All the stiffness sweeps out of me in one breath, as I understand what Cat is actually asking me. “I respect Anna Wilk,” I say very clearly. “But I don’t love her, Cat. I’m not sure I ever did. What I felt—I think it was just the feeling of admiring someone for the first time. It was new to me.” “Isn’t that what loving someone is?” Cat says quietly. “It might be part of it. But it’s not all of it.” “Do I sound jealous?” she says, looking up at me at last, her face open and vulnerable. “I’m jealous,” I say, seizing her arm and pulling her close. “Any time anyone looks at you, or speaks to you, I’m jealous. I want all your minutes, and all your words. I want all of you, all the time.”

“I want to keep seeing you,” I tell her. “What would you do if I told you no?” “Tie you up in that tower and punish you,” I growl. “Don’t you ever tell me no.” “I never have yet,” Cat whispers.

“Abram Balakin called me from Moscow this morning, Dean. Your father is dead.”

“Why couldn’t he be happy?” I sob. “Why couldn’t he live for me, for us?”

“When you become a man worthy of love, you will receive love,” he tells me. I search his battered face, trying to understand. “I was alone,” Snow says. “No parents, no family. They called me Snow because I fought so cold. But I had anger inside me, too. An old boxer took me in. His name was Meyer. He was hard on me, and he was good to me, too. He showed me friendship. Love came later when I met Sasha. I saw her for what she was: a treasure to be protected at all costs. To have her, I had to become the man she deserved.” “I don’t know how to do that,” I admit. “It’s always a step into the dark,” Snow says. “No one knows the path they haven’t walked before.” I look at Snow’s face, cut and swollen from my fists. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Don’t be sorry,” Snow says. “Be better.”

“What’s going on?” she says, pulling back just a little to look up into my face. “Something happened today. I had to come tell you.” “Tell me what?” She says. “That I love you, Cat. I fucking love you.” “What!” Cat squeaks, sounding as terrified as the very first time we spoke. I laugh and then I kiss her, harder than I ever have before.

“It’s the way you focus on me, when we’re doing kinky shit. It’s like I’m the only thing in the world. You’ll spend hours touching and manipulating me. I love the attention.” “You are the only thing in the world,” Dean says seriously. “You’re all I have now, Cat.”

“You ever read this one?” I hold up Persuasion. “No,” he says. “I read Pride and Prejudice, though. Actually, I kept thinking of a line from that book when I met you.” “What line?” I say. Dean searches the Austen books, finding Pride and Prejudice and flipping through it until he locates the line in question. “This one—‘No sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes.’ ” I slap him on the shoulder, earning another disapproving grunt from the shop owner. “ ‘Hardly a good feature in her face!’ ” Dean laughs, grabbing my hands so I can’t smack him again. “Not that part—the bit about the dark eyes, and how they show your cleverness. I can always see what you’re thinking from your eyes.” “Oh yeah? What am I thinking right now?” “You’re thinking you want me to kiss you.” “That’s too easy. I always want that.” Dean obliges, with zero care for the irritation of the shop owner. Then he buys Persuasion on my recommendation.

“I think you have a sister,” Cat says. I look at that image, my mother holding the hand of the girl the same age that I was when she left. The little girl looks up at her, happy and trusting. I tear the picture in half, ripping mother and daughter apart. Cat stares at me, stunned. I rip those pieces into smaller pieces and I throw them on the floor. It does nothing to stifle my rage. That paper might as well be tinder—my fury flames up ten times higher. Cat is open-mouthed, already backing away from me. “You had no right,” I hiss, the anger rising and rising. “But I—” “YOU HAD NO RIGHT!” I howl, snatching up the closest thing at hand, which happens to be my speaker, and smashing it against the wall. Cat jolts at the impact. The music abruptly cuts out, leaving a deathly silence between us. “Dean . . .” Cat whispers. Her eyes are filling with tears. “I DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHERE SHE IS! I FUCKING HATE HER!” Cat flinches away from me, her hands held up in front of her in helpless defense. It’s less than useless—we both know I could tear her apart as easily as that paper. “I didn’t know—” “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!” I shout. “You don’t fucking know me at all. You thought I would like that? Are you fucking stupid?” Now the tears are running down her face, both sides. They don’t placate me. They only make me angrier, because now I feel guilty as well as enraged. How dare she do this to me? How dare she make me feel this way? I knew this would happen. I knew Cat was too go...

It’s better that I know how he actually feels about me. He doesn’t love me. He never did. Why would he? Dean has always been one of the smartest, the strongest, and the most disciplined people at this school. With all I’ve changed, I’m still barely average. But god, it felt good to believe that he loved me.

“He really hurt me,” I sob, remembering Dean’s words cutting me deeper than any knife. You thought I would like that? Are you fucking stupid? You’re nothing to me. “If he hurt you, then he doesn’t love you,” Zoe says. It’s not what I want to hear. But the wrenching pain in my chest tells me that she might be right. “When someone loves you, they’ll do anything to keep you safe.” I want Zoe to be wrong. She’s never wrong, though. “What should I do?” I ask her. “Stay away from him,” Zoe says. “And make sure no one else finds out about . . . you know.” “He won’t tell,” I assure her.

“It’s foolish to divide the meat when the bear hasn’t been shot,” I say. “We’re not talking about the meat. We’re talking about the hunt,” Vanya hisses. “Don’t mistake absence for weakness. Ivan Petrov is a powerful man. One I don’t want for an enemy.” “You’re a coward,” Vanya spits. “And you’re a traitor,” I retort, staring him down. “I’d take Ivan as an enemy before I’d take you as a friend.”

“I got in a fight with Cat the other night,” I say. “What happened?” “She found my mother. Living in Chicago, under her sister’s name.” Snow is silent a minute, digesting this. “Why did that occasion a fight?” he says, at last. “Cat tracked her down without even asking me. She shoved a picture in my face.” Snow cocks an eyebrow at me. “And that made you angry?” “She had no right.” He makes a dismissive sound. “She has every right.” I wring the next towel in my hands, glaring at Snow. It’s just like him to take her side for no fucking reason. “How do you figure that?” I demand. “It’s called intimacy, Dean. You let someone in your life, and they’re in your life. She’s not a doll you can put on a shelf until you want to play with her again. She’s gonna have her own ideas of how to do things.” “It’s my fucking mother! It’s my choice if I want to find her or not.” “Cat didn’t fly her to the island. It’s still your choice if you want to see her, isn’t it?” My blood pressure is rising, thudding in my temples and behind my eyes. I don’t know why the fuck I come to Snow for advice when he’s just as infuriating as Cat. Maybe even more so. “She had the balls to try to break up with me!” I say. Snow chuckles, and I’d like to chuck this towel right in his face. “Sounds like she did break up with you,” he says.

“What am I supposed to do?” “Have you considered apologizing?” “Why the fuck should I apologize? She’s the one who should beg me for forgiveness.” Snow sighs, picking up the last of the pads and carrying them over to the storage cabinet. “Dean,” he says. “I don’t think this is the first time you’ve blown up your own life. Have you ever tried fixing it instead?” “What do you mean?” “You want connection, don’t you? Stop pushing away the people who will give it to you.” “I don’t want to see my mother.” “Then don’t. But Cat is right here.” I look down at the mats, my guts churning. “I don’t think she is. I really fucked up.” Snow closes the cabinet and locks it. “No relationship is built without mistakes,” he says. I cast a quick look at his stony scowl. “You think she’ll forgive me?” “Maybe. If you learn how to say sorry and actually mean it.” “What does that look like?” Snow folds his arms across his substantial chest. “Only you can figure that out,” he says.

“Snow,” I say. He turns around, waiting. “With Sasha . . . how did you know you were really in love?” Snow answers without hesitation. “I knew when I was willing to do anything for her. Give anything. Risk anything.”

“You hurt me, Dean,” I tell him quietly. “You really hurt me.” “I know,” he says. “And . . .” He swallows, as if he’s choking on something. “And I’m sorry,” he says in a strangled tone. I almost want to laugh. It sounds like he’s never apologized in his life. He looks ridiculously relieved, as if he thought saying those words might kill him. Unfortunately for him, no amount of apologies is going to wipe his insults out of my brain. “I don’t care,” I say coldly. “Why not?” he demands. “Because you told me you loved me, and then you said I meant nothing to you. So your words are meaningless.” Dean flinches, looking guilty. “I know, Cat, but I was so angry—” “You’re always angry,” I interrupt. “Always pouring out your rage on everyone around you. Well, it’s not going to be me anymore.” “Cat, you can’t be serious—” He’s trying to take my hand, but I yank it away from him. “I’m very serious. Don’t make me hurt you again.” Dean laughs, knowing as well as I do that I only managed to knee him because he wasn’t expecting it. I have no chance of actually injuring Dean. Only he has the power to hurt me. And he did. Too much and too well. I push past him into the dining hall.

I miss Dean. I miss him badly. But I can’t stop remembering Lola’s taunts, and Dean’s insults following directly afterward, proving the truth of her words. Just because he likes fucking you doesn’t mean he gives a shit about you . . . He’s using you because you’ll do whatever he says . . . And then, worst of all, echoing over and over in my brain: You’re nothing to me. I never really believed that Dean could love me. What fragile hope I had was shattered as he raged at me in the tower. Zoe’s right: love doesn’t hurt like this. Love doesn’t bring you to your knees with grief and misery. “Cat, you’re being ridiculous!” Dean cries, annoyed at my continued resistance. “You can’t throw away everything we have over one fight.” “I didn’t throw it away,” I say coldly. “You did.” I can already see his temper rising, right now, when he’s supposed to be begging for forgiveness. “You’re getting mad all over again, aren’t you!” I cry. “I bet you want to shout at me, don’t you?” “Only because you’re being—” Dean raises his hands like he’s going to strangle me, and then abruptly cuts himself off. I laugh in his face. “Being what?” I demand. “Tell me again how awful I am.” Dean takes several deep breaths, his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. It would be funny watching him try to control his temper, if it didn’t make me so sad at the same time. “I’m sorry I insulted you, Cat,” he says. “I didn’t mean it. I was out of my mind.” “So was I,” I say quietly. “But I’m sane again now...

“It’s over, Dean,” she tells me. “Our relationship was wrong from the start. Nothing built out of violence and lies and coercion could ever turn into something good.” “That’s not true!” I cry. “It can be whatever we want it to be. It’s our choice what it becomes, it doesn’t matter how it started.” She shakes her head at me, her eyes sad and unbelieving. It doesn’t help that I can barely contain my frustration every time she shuts me down again. I’m trying to prove to Cat that I can be calm, controlled, reasonable, but it’s driving me insane that she won’t speak to me, that she won’t give me another chance. “I love you!” I say, seizing her hand. “And I know you love me too. Look at me and tell me you don’t.” She refuses to look at me. And refuses to answer.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demands, stomping her foot in a way that’s utterly adorable. “I’m walking you to class.” “I don’t want you to walk me to class. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” “Yes you do,” I growl. “You miss me, and I miss you. Stop torturing us both.” “You have no right to scare off my friends or to harass me!” Cat cries. She’s angry too. The air between us crackles with that tension so familiar to me—the kind that makes me want to seize her and kiss her until both our lips are bloody. I’d do it, if I weren’t afraid it would break the last bonds between us. Because Cat really is pissed, and I don’t trust myself not to make this worse. “You leave me no choice!” I say. “I can’t just walk away from you. I need you, Cat. I love you.” “It’s always what you want, what you need,” she says, tears glinting in her eyes. “Then tell me what you need! Tell me what to do, how to make it up to you! What will it take for you to forgive me?” Cat looks up at me with a quizzical expression. “Do you really mean that?” she says. “Yes! Yes, I mean it.” “You want to prove to me that you’re sorry?” “Yes, I told you that a hundred times.” “Alright then,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “I want a month.” I stare at her, at her pale face and stubborn jaw. “A month?” “That’s right. I gave you a month once. Now I want the same in return. A month of you obeying my every command.” I can’t help the smile tugging the corner of my lips. “That doesn’t sound ...

Anna and Leo have maintained an admirable level of silence through all this, though I know Leo is dying to give me shit about the fact that I’m once again stripped down to my trousers, holding up Cat’s water glass so she can take a sip, while barred from speaking to her. Leo can barely lift his eyes from his plate, and I think Anna has kicked him under the table at least three times. I have the strangest sense that Anna is rooting for me. She meets my eye across the table, giving me an encouraging smile. Chay is less restrained. She keeps coming up with new ideas for Cat to torment me. “You should make Dean wear knee socks and a skirt!” she says cheerfully. “Chay,” I say. “Please shut the hell up.” She ignores me. “Oooh, make him stand up in our Banking class and sing the Russian national anthem! I’ll tell you if he does it.” “Professor Graves will expel me,” I say. “Quiet!” Cat hisses at me, snapping her fingers for another sip of water. I never realized she was such a little sadist. It only makes me like her more.

I will do anything for Cat. Sacrifice anything. Pay any price. I’ll grovel forever if that’s what it takes to get her back. I don’t give a fuck if I look stupid in front of the whole school, or if Vanya spreads the news of this to all of Moscow, undermining my position in the Bratva. I want Cat more than I want anything—even to become Pakhan. I’ve never loved someone more than my own ambition. It’s terrifying. Because I’m not in control of Cat. I can’t make her love me. All I can do is hope.

All of a sudden, I don’t want to part, not even for an hour. I clutch his hand, looking up into his face. Dean smiles down at me. “I’ll be right out here waiting for you,” he says. But when I come out of the classroom after Chemistry, Dean is nowhere to be seen.

“Lola Fischer says you witnessed the murder,” the Chancellor says. “She says you’ve been using that information to blackmail Cat Romero for almost a year.” I stay silent, waiting to hear what else he knows. And more importantly, what evidence they have. “If you were not involved in Rocco’s death, now is the time to speak,” the Chancellor tells me, his coal-black eyes boring into mine. “This is your only chance for clemency. Tell me everything you know, and you may be absolved.”

If his anger is a furnace, then his love for me is the sun, burning bright enough to light the universe.

“Are we even now?” he says. “Oh my god.” I shake my head. “You’re insane.” “I am insane,” he growls. “I’m crazy for you, Cat. I always will be.” “It terrifies me how much I love you,” I tell him, holding him as tight as I can without hurting him more.

“Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?” “Great,” I tell him. “Ready to be back in class.” “Good,” he grunts. “I have a lot of mats that need cleaning. Towels that need washing . . .” “You know I’m only helpful when I need advice.” He nods to Cat. “Will you break up with him again so he’ll be useful?” “Sorry,” Cat laughs, “Can’t do it.” “Ain’t happening. Thanks for visiting though,” I tell Snow.

“You say one word to Cat, you so much as fucking look at her, and I’ll be back for your finger. You saw the whipping I took for her—I would gladly lose a pinky to see you lose one of yours.” Lola stares at me in horror, her big blue eyes rather disturbing without the accompanying mane of hair. She looks like a baby doll shorn by a callous toddler. “Your hair will grow back,” I say softly. “But your finger won’t.”

“Why can’t you see that I love you? I fucking love you! I don’t care what you do to me, I don’t care what you say to me. I don’t care if you lie or scream or try to run away. I don’t care if you’re filthy or soaked in bleach or set on fucking fire! Why can’t you understand I love you! Without limit or reason.” I look at her furious face, those brilliant dark eyes, and finally after all this time, the key turns in my heart. I believe her. I fucking believe her. She loves me. She loves me the way I love her. I seize her and kiss her, her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist. I taste the sweetness of her mouth and the salt of the tears running down her face. I bite her lips, I breathe in her breath. “Cat,” I say. “You don’t know what a monster I can be, but I’ll be your monster. Everything I do will be for you. To protect you. To help you. To love you every day of my life. I’ll burn this whole fucking world down for you if that’s what you want.” She presses her forehead against mine. “I know exactly who you are, Dean. And I fucking love you.”

“Did you change your mind about coming to New York?” he says. “No,” I reply. “But if the offer still stands in a few years . . . ” “It will always stand,” he says, quietly. “Thank you.” I pause, wanting to say this right. “Thank you for everything, Snow. You helped me, when I didn’t want it or ask for it. When I wasn’t grateful or even deserving.” “You were deserving,” Snow says, his eyes as clear and piercing as ever. “I saw that from the start.” I cross the mats and embrace him one last time. I hope I can give that sort of hug to someone, someday. “Cat asked me to come to Chicago with her,” I tell him. “Over the summer.” “What did you say?” “What do you think I said?” Snow smiles, slowly. “I think you agreed.” “You were right,” I nod. “I’d do anything for her.” Snow rests his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a man now. And that’s what a man does.”

“This will sound crazy,” she says, softly. “But I think that’s Hedeon’s mother.”

She is Adrian Yenin’s twin in every way. Except that the moment she sees me, her eyes fill with tears. She opens her arms and wraps them around me, pulling me tight against her in a hug. “Dean,” she says. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long.” I can feel my body stiffening. My own eyes are burning, my heart beating too fast. I know her husband is watching. But also . . . there’s something familiar and comforting in Aunt Yelena’s clean, sweet scent, and in the shade of the silver-blonde hair that falls across my shoulder. So I push away my usual response to fear and confusion. Instead, I take a deep breath and I hug her back. When she lets go of me at last, I face Sebastian Gallo and I look him in the eye. This is the man who mutilated my father and strangled my grandfather. He’s also the man who loved Yelena Yenina enough to marry the daughter of his worst enemy. I hold out my hand to him to shake. Sebastian grips my hand in his warm grasp and pulls me into an embrace, hugging me just as hard as his wife. “Welcome home,” he says.

I always thought Dean was a bully. But in actuality . . . he’s got a soft spot for the underdog.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” he says. “I don’t want to be full of regret. And I don’t want that for you, either.” “I’ll never stop being sorry,” she sobs. “I missed you so much. It almost killed me. If I didn’t have Frances . . .”

“You’re right about Dean,” I say. “He’s a good man. The best man. No one loves harder than him.” “That’s how he was as a boy . . .” Rose says, softly. “He felt things so intensely. I never knew if it would make him, or destroy him.”