Year Four (Kingmakers, #4)

by Sophie Lark

Sloane will never give up on me. And I will never stop trying to come home to her. I made a promise to her. And I always keep my promises.

She needs me, and I need her.

We draw life from each other. In the time we’ve been apart, we’ve both been slowly dying.

I was shot four times by the Malina, covering my wife and children so they could escape. I woke in this cell, with tubes running in and out of me, with IV bags and monitors, and a doctor called Lyaksandro who tended to me while always ensuring that I was shackled hand and foot to the cot.

He’s bleeding my family dry, raking in over $252 million so far. Still, I think he would trade every penny for the pleasure of rubbing his revenge in my face.

I Spend Evenings Exercising So No Opportunity Wastes

I never knew I could miss someone like I miss my dad.

But he didn’t die. The Malina shot him, captured him, and dragged him off to a cell in some desolate place, in some unknown country. We’ve been searching for him ever since.

Plan B is Nix.

We planned to take her and trade her life for my father’s.

Irkolasan Uranium Mine, it says.

“We won’t need Nix, then,” I say. My mother turns to look at me, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “Nix is coming with us. As insurance.” Now my heart drops down to my toes. What my mother means is, if Marko Moroz puts a bullet in my father’s head, she’ll do the same to his daughter.

The thing that seems intensely clear and present is the fact that Nix is about to find out that I lied to her—when I rip her out of her bed and fucking kidnap her.

“Cara is perfection,” Hedeon says quietly. “Way too fucking good for me.”

“I think he has a type,” Hedeon says. “He likes them young. Dark-haired. And wild. Just like my mother.”

Oh hell.

“If he’s your father . . .” I say, “Then what are you going to do?” With calm surety, Hedeon replies, “I’m going to kill him.”

All I know is that I would offer my body and soul to save my wife, my daughter, or my son. They are more precious to me than myself.

While my deepest wish is to see them again and hold them in my arms, I would never risk a hair on their heads to make that happen.

A king has few friends. A dictator has none.

“We all have our demons,” I say. “I know mine too well to lose any sleep over them.”

We Erased All Recurring Entries Cash-flow On Monday Is Now Good

She thinks I don’t want to see her, when in reality I could peel my own flesh off my bones out of sheer desperation.

“I want to see you,” I tell her. “Badly.”

“Let’s never leave,” she murmurs. “I hate when you’re busy. I hate when I’m not with you.” “I hate everything that pulls me away from you,” I tell her, seizing handfuls of her wet hair and kissing her harder.

“Let me do you,” I say. “I don’t think you can hold your breath as long,” she says. “Fucking drown me, then.”

I don’t want air. I don’t want sun. I don’t want anything but her.

“I love you,” I say. “I want you to know that. Now, tonight.”

“Is that true?” “It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.” “I’ve never been in love before,” she says. “But I don’t know what else to call this feeling.” She kisses me again, hungry as ever.

I don’t care if this is wrong. I don’t care that I have no right. I need her, and I love her.

“But you can’t kill him, Hedeon. You’ll be executed.” “I don’t care,” Hedeon says, his eyes flat and unmoving. “I’ve never felt alive in my whole fucking life.”

“Men desire beauty, women desire power. My name, my presence, was just as powerful an aphrodisiac to her as those long, shapely legs and those full breasts were to me.”

“Silas is Kenneth’s biological son,” Hedeon says, a look of understanding coming into his face.

“Is this consensual, or . . .?” “No, it’s not fucking consensual,” Hedeon snarls.

“I’m not Ares. My name is Rafe Petrov. My father is Ivan Petrov. He’s been imprisoned for three and a half years. Tomorrow, I finally bring him home.”

“Okay . . . that is not what I was expecting you to say,” Leo remarks. Despite the fact that the night has been a fucking disaster, and I’ve now involved two more people in this mess, I feel the strangest sense of lightness, like my bones have been replaced with helium. I’m finally telling the truth.

Leo breaks it by saying, “I’m coming with you.”

“I’ll go with you, too,” Hedeon says, quietly.

“I should have known you were a Petrov when you knocked my fuckin’ head sideways,” he says.

I murmur in her ear. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you . . . but you have to come with me.”

“Don’t be scared,” he says. “I’m not scared,” I hiss at him. “I’m fucking furious.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he says. “That’s no fucking apology,” I reply. “I had no choice.” “Oh shut the fuck up, you had a thousand choices.”

“Who are you?” I ask him, furiously blinking back the burning tears that want to flood my eyes. “You’re not Ares Cirillo.” “No,” he says. “I’m not. My name is Rafe Petrov.” The pieces fall into place.

“So what is it, then?” I say. “Revenge? My father killed someone you love, and now you’re going to kill me?” “No!” Rafe cries. “No one’s killing you. No one’s going to hurt you, Nix.” “Liar,” I say, bitterly.

“Marko has my father. He’s been holding him prisoner, extorting us for money. We’re finally getting my dad back. I had to bring you as insurance. But I promise you Nix, no one is going to hurt you. I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re not going to hurt me. You’re just going to kill my father in front of me. Is that right?” I ask him.

“He has to pay for what he’s done,” Rafe says. “I won’t help you,” I say, through gritted teeth. “I’ll fight you. I’ll stop you if I can.” “That’s what I thought you’d say,” Rafe replies.

I really thought he loved me.

“It’s impossible to be neutral in our world. You have to pick a side. Are you sure which side you want to be on?” “I’m not going to turn against my own father,” I hiss. “And Rafe won’t turn against his,” Sabrina says. “So I guess you’ll both immolate yourselves for your dads.”

“Will you come along quietly?” he asks me. “I don’t want to have to gag you.” “You’ve gagged me plenty of times before,” I say. The muscle at the corner of his jaw twitches.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have been intimate with you.” “Is that what we were?” I say. “Intimate? Or was it just me who was intimate, and honest, and real, while you were a fucking lying snake.”