The Promise (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 2), Bethany-Kris [top 50 books to read .txt] 📗

looking down at his son sitting in the chair. “Well, there better be a damn good reason for it. And I’m waiting to hear it. If not love, then what?”

If only things were simple.

Demyan pointed a finger at Roman, telling him, “It better mean something—all you’ve done ... There better be a good fucking reason. At least lie to me.”

Except he couldn’t.

“I wanted to help her. I didn’t say anything about love.”

Demyan opened his mouth to retort, his lips already twisted in his anger, but the loud shouts of a man echoed down the hallway. It stopped them both in their tracks. Then, glass shattered, too.

Shit.

“Karine,” Roman muttered, already off his chair and rounding the desk.

His father was fast on his heels.

• • •

Andrey, the bull who followed Demyan everywhere, was the one who had shouted loud enough to rattle the walls. As it turned out—he had a good reason. Karine had backed him into a corner of the kitchen, right next to the island. He didn’t think her one-twenty soaking wet frame was enough to scare the muscled, brick wall of a man, but the chunky kitchen knife she had thrust against his neck could certainly do the job.

She even made him bleed.

The drops of blood dribbled down from a slice in the man’s neck, soaking into his silk dress shirt. Andrey’s wide gaze darted wildly around the room, looking for a way out. Karine must have grabbed a knife out of the block that was on the island. It was almost comical—if it wasn’t so fucked up—that such a petite woman with nothing more than a knife against the bull’s neck was enough to terrify the man.

Had she caught him by surprise?

Masha came barreling down the hallway a few seconds after Roman and Demyan entered the kitchen. He wondered how long she had been awake, and where the fuck she had been, but there wasn’t really time for that discussion.

“Karine, sweetheart, put the knife down,” Masha said, her voice a soothing whisper.

However, it did nothing to calm Karine or persuade her to put the weapon away. In fact, she paid Masha no mind.

She leaned harder into Andrey, glaring at him with her jaw clenched tight, and hooded eyes nailed into the pinned man. “Who are you—what in the fuck are you doing here?”

That voice.

It froze Roman to the spot.

That wasn’t Karine at all.

Still, to be sure, Roman called to her, “Karine, let him go.”

She didn’t move a muscle, except for the look she threw over her shoulder that met his eyes. It was fast—wild and fleeting before her gaze was right back on the threat she had to deal with. She was on high alert; every move someone made, even to inch closer, caught her attention. Yet, not enough to allow Andrey even a split-second to act against her.

That look was enough.

Roman had seen it. The viciousness in her stare. There was a tension in her brows and a sneer on her lips.

Katina had arrived.

Apparently, just in time.

Roman tried not to be taken aback at how the switch between identities could happen without any warning, if only because he didn’t have the time to be distracted. Exactly how this situation was triggered—well, he didn’t have a clue. Maybe she was startled awake and saw Andrey. A face she didn’t recognize—and instead of Karine or Katee, it was Katina who chose to be present.

“Please, Karine,” Masha said, keeping her distance and gentle tone, but continuing to at least try. “Look at me, huh? It’s fine ... everything is fine.”

Her efforts were for nothing. Karine wasn’t listening, and Katina didn’t care. Andrey didn’t move, but one of his hands twitched on the island counter like he might make a move to grab something.

“Who the fuck is this? I was just trying to get a drink, man,” the bull said, his words cracking at the end. At his voice, Katina leaned in again. “Easy—shit, take it easy, girl. I wasn’t doing shit to you.”

Glass, shattered into sharp shards, had spread across the floor in a puddle of water. Roman followed the pink-stained water to where it ended at Katina’s bleeding feet. Despite the cuts on the soles of her feet, it was one more thing that didn’t seem to make her radar.

“You need to tell me what is really going on here,” Demyan muttered at Roman’s side. “Right now, son.”

When shit hit the fan, it really hit. Now just wasn’t the time. Roman had to take care of the situation at hand first, and then maybe he could clear some things up for his father.

Roman kept a firm tone when he said, “Katina, I’ll only say it once more. Let the man go.”

That time, she looked at him for longer—and he knew why. Roman addressed her with the right name. It was that same viciousness he’d found in her stare earlier that concerned him the most, though. He wondered if anyone knew the kind of violence this woman was capable of when she was Katina. It took balls to hold a knife to a man’s throat and not even blink about it.

“You weren’t here when I woke up,” Katina said suddenly, throwing the words at him like a slap over her shoulder. “You were supposed to be here. But no, this guy was. I don’t know him.” Strained, her words hissed lower as Roman got closer. “I don’t know him.”

Yeah.

He got it.

Holding his hands up where she could see, Roman hoped that would assure she wouldn’t think he was coming at her with anything. He didn’t want her to make any sudden movements that could fatally hurt Andrey—the guy hadn’t exactly asked for this. Karine wouldn’t want that on her conscience, or hands.

“I was here the whole time. I didn’t go anywhere, just to the other room,” Roman said fast, inching forward slowly with every word. “I spent the night in my bedroom. You know that. Katee even knows it—she saw me, drew me.”

He only stated facts.

Katina tipped her chin up,