But it’s all I have to offer.
The pain in my chest has now dulled to a hollowness that swallows emotion. I think about Esme, about her beautiful dark hair, her hazel-gold eyes, and her easy, open smile.
I still feel love when I think of her. But I have to try and let go of the possessiveness. Her hold on me is what caused me to lose my way.
She left. So let her be gone.
If I want to focus on what I have to do next, it’s my only option.
She’s probably driving as far from this nightmare as she can. She’s carrying my baby, and in a few months, I will have a child.
But I no longer assume that I will see or even know that child.
The baby is lost to me. Just like she is.
I look again at the makeshift remembrance in front of me and feel the hollowness in my chest grow.
I always assumed that Cillian would be my right-hand man when I became don. Now, I’m looking at a different reality.
He won’t be my second, but rather the ghost on my shoulder, reminding me never to lose focus again.
I have lost everything now. I have lost my father, my best friend, my wife and my child. Budimir has picked away at me, bite by bite by bite, like a vulture plucking a carcass down to the bone.
I have nothing left anymore.
Nothing but revenge.
I turn and look out over the ravine and towards the snow-capped mountains beyond.
I take a deep breath. And then I roar out, “I’m coming for you, uncle. Do you recognize me? No, how can you—when I barely recognize myself? My name is not Artem Kovalyov. Not anymore. My name is death. And I’m coming for you.”
12
Esme
THREE MONTHS LATER—A SMALL TOWN NEAR TIJUANA, MEXICO
“Emily?”
I balance the tray on my huge belly and try to sidestep Sara, the other waitress, as she rushes past me to the kitchen. There’s a mess at table three I need to sort out and a couple at table four who’ve been trying to flag me down for the last ten minutes.
“Emily?”
I can see the annoyance on the couple’s faces but I really need to get table one their dinner. Jose got their order wrong the first time, so they’ve had to wait an extra half hour for the right meals. Which of course means they’re snippy and hungry.
And since they can’t see Jose, I’m the outlet for their annoyance.
“Emily!”
Fuck.
I’m still not used to the name I go by now. My reaction time is slower than I’d like to admit.
I turn to find Ruby, my manager, staring daggers at me. My arms are already screaming from holding three plates each.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, ever,” she snaps.
Her bright red lips are pursed with irritation and a lock of strawberry blonde hair has come loose from its usually pristine topknot.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m a little backed-up here.” I fidget back and forth to readjust my weight on my feet.
Ruby’s eyes fall to my stomach and then back up to my face. “When are you due by the way?”
Fuck, again.
“I’ve got a month to go,” I lie smoothly.
“Are you sure?” Ruby asks. “You look huge.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say, trying to make light of my discomfort. “Just what every girl dreams of hearing.”
I had a month to go—a whole damn month ago. According to my doctor, as of this morning, my due date is five days in the rearview mirror. I should be resting at home, swollen feet propped up.
But I need the paycheck from the diner, shitty as it is.
“You know what I mean,” Ruby sighs, rolling her eyes.
“Um, Ruby, hold that thought for a sec, will ya?” I plead. I’m on the verge of dropping all the plates in my hand. That would really piss off the angry couple. “Let me get this order to table one and I’ll be right back. Pinky promise.”
“Fine,” she says. “Be quick about it.”
I nod and waddle to table one, intentionally steering clear of table three so that I can avoid the mess a little longer.
“Hey, guys,” I apologize. “Really sorry about the wait.”
The couple just clucks their teeth in irritation. At least their look happy to see me.
“Did you bring my curly fries?” the boy chirps.
“Right here, little man,” I say, giving him my best smile.
He blushes a little as he accepts the fries. His sister doesn’t look as happy with her sloppy joe, but she lights up when I put down a side of potato wedges.
“Some complimentary wedges,” I say. “For the delay.”
That seems to appease the dad, who nods in acknowledgement, but his dark-haired wife looks at me with a pinched expression.
“How far along are you?” she asks.
“Got a month to go,” I say brightly.
“You shouldn’t be working.”
I don’t know if she means to show concern, but her tone implies otherwise.
“I don’t have that option,” I sigh before I can stop myself.
She narrows her eyes. “Single mother?”
I bristle a little at the question, but the reality of my life these days is hard to deny. “Yes,” I admit. “I am.”
She looks like she’s about to say something else. But I’m not sticking around to be insulted—or worse, pitied.
So I pivot around to table four and pull out my notepad.
“I’m really sorry about the wait, guys,” I say to them.
Both their expressions soften when they take in my huge belly. They don’t give me any attitude as they relay their orders. When we’re done, I walk away and let loose a heavy sigh.
Ruby’s waiting for me back at the counter with her arms crossed. I used to be concerned by that particular stance, until I realized that it was Ruby’s resting pose. Same for the bitch face she wears around the clock.
I start to say, “I still have one more table to—”
“It can wait,” she says, cutting me off. “I want to talk to you about something.”
Fear rises up inside me like bile.
I can’t lose this job. I
