Page 46 of Unhinged

I shake my head. It’s a fucking prophecy.

* * *

Chapter11

ANISSA

I have a sister.

A sister.

The revelation circles my head like a vulture waiting to swoop. Another secret. Another twist.

This is the strangest turn of events I could have imagined. Just when I think I have control of the situation, even the tiniest little modicum of control, he throws me another curveball.

And now his family. His parents are assholes. I’ve seen his mother’s type, the kind of shallow, brittle woman who goes to charity galas for the accolades but hides her venom behind the glitter.

Yet another thing we have in common.

Great. We could start a club.Children of monsters.

I have a mother too? And I'm going to meet the man whose life I apparently destroyed in a matter of hours. I didn’t think I could ever get back to a place where I was insecure or afraid. I run head-on toward fear, toward discomfort, because I’ve found that’s what makes me stronger. But now, my mind is spinning with the most mundane question:What am I going to wear?

And why is he not really afraid of me running anymore?

I also heard him loud and clear when he told his mother—thatcatty excusefor a mother anyway—that I would be the mother of his children. Dear god.Children.

Ha. I’ll have the last word onthatone.

“Hmm. With no real time to go shopping," I say, working my lip. "I can't exactly go to the shop wearing the elephant-sized T-shirt."

I don't normally mind standing out, but this is different.

He nods, scowling, thinking.

"I'll call Rodion."

I know that Rodion is his cousin—Rafail's younger brother. Maybe they're close.

"Rodion's going to have women's clothes?"

"No, but his wife probably will."

His wife.

Maybe choosing ignorance over the Kopolov Bratva wasn’t my smartest strategy.

I nod, thinking.

"That's probably the best option. I don't even think the clothes I brought will be ready in time."

I look down at my nails—short, chipped, clean because of the shower, but barely presentable.

I washed my hair, but it dried into a frizzy mess. I have no makeup, no jewelry. I don’t even have a razor.

What am I thinking? Since when have I cared about this bullshit?

Since now.

---