The Agreement (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 1) Bethany-Kris (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📖

than being awake in the dark. Bad things happened in the dark—she knew that all too well. But as the fear started to crawl over her skin, even under the thick, heaviness of her blankets, she jumped out like she’d been burned. Katee tried.

She did.

But she just couldn’t do it.

Rushing to the windows, she yanked the curtains open again, panting when the light flooded in. Air sucked into her lungs, one giant gulp after another. She forgot how to even breathe in the dark.

Her mind buzzed while her fingers itched. The way they did when she felt that urge to draw. She needed to find something to draw on. It was how she remembered what she had seen.

Trying to keep quiet, Katee searched the room, pulling down books from the shelves and opening drawers. They always moved her things—she hated that. Nothing was ever in the same place twice, even when she asked.

It was okay, though. There were notebooks and sketch pads everywhere. Picking one that satisfied her, she moved onto her next task. Pulling sheets and pillows off the bed, and even the ones on the chaise near the window. They piled high on the floor, but Katee didn’t care.

It wasn’t until she found a pen stuck inside a book on one of the shelves that she stopped rummaging—also satisfied with the drawing nest she had made on the floor—knowing Maria wouldn’t come knocking for a while. At least an hour.

Katee crawled into the makeshift bed of sheets and pillows, putting pen to paper with focused determination of the fast swipes of the pen’s tip against a bone white background. She needed to start drawing—when she did that, it was all her mind could see. Just the image on the paper, the picture she was trying to show. The face of the man she had seen today. Then, she wouldn’t have to see the other things waiting in her mind, lingering until she almost forgot ...

Thankfully, the pen was so blue that she could color his eyes the same shade. The right shade.

She scratched the pen wildly to the paper, not stopping once to examine if she was doing a good job or if the side of her hand was smearing the ink. It was always perfect. Only her handwriting needed a little work.

Or so Maria said.

The door creaked open before Katee had a chance to hide the paper behind her, making her lose the image in her mind as her head snapped up to see who came to her room. Maria, she thought, ready to scold her for getting out of bed before smiling because she was drawing and mostly behaving.

Except it wasn’t her nanny.

Katee’s air caught sharply in her throat, aching as the words she wanted to use to call for Maria caught in her throat. All it took was the sight of him to do that to her.

The monster.

It wasn’t often that he caught her by surprise. Twice in one day was too much for her to handle.

“What have you done?” he growled at her, stepping further into the room and widening the door on his way. His face scrunched up, and every bitter word that poured from his mouth had her recoiling more. Already. “Look at this fucking mess.”

“I ... I’m s-sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Katee’s apology was instant.

And meek.

She wasn’t even sure what she was apologizing for, only that she needed to appease him somehow. Quickly.

Katee thought to call for Maria when the expression on his face changed—the moment he heard her voice. It was a brief second of distraction, but fleeting. Her chance was gone before she even really realized it was there. His eyes grew wider, the anger melting away into a sinister smile that curled the corners of his mouth.

He drew in a deep breath like he was ... pleased.

With what?

She was always asking him that.

Are you happy?

Is this what you want?

Will you leave me alone now?

The answer was always the same. He kept coming back, after all.

He turned away from her only long enough to close the bedroom door, and lock it. Katee was already shrinking back, away, curling herself into a ball. That wouldn’t stop him from doing what he was going to do.

It never did.

TWELVE

Roman had been made to wait an entire hour before he finally got to meet with the boss. Tribute meant a lot of things to different men in their life, but the money was the one thing that never changed. He sensed everybody around him waited on tenterhooks, careful with their every word or request because no one wanted to piss off the pakhan today. It seemed like Maxim was in the kind of mood where he could randomly lose his shit over nothing.

When Roman was finally shown into Maxim’s den, he walked into a cloud of smoke the second his feet passed the office’s threshold. Thick and gray, created by the cigar that Maxim was smoking where he sat behind his desk, the smoke stuck in the back of Roman’s lungs when he sucked in a breath.

Only one other man remained in the room with the boss—Leonid. Dima’s father, he knew, and one of Maxim’s spies. The closest hand to the boss who made sure every brigadier in the bratva was toeing the line.

Whatever line that was.

Roman rarely cared to learn them.

Dropping the two duffle bags on the floor, Roman said nothing while Maxim and Leonid glanced at it, and then toward him again.

“What are your thoughts on your job so far?” Maxim asked, that cigar bouncing from the corner of his mouth with every word.

Leonid stood up and walked over to grab the bags without being ordered to do so. Roman remained still in place, unmoving. He knew how this worked. It was not his first tribute day—the ritual had been with him while he grew up, reminding him monthly of where he would eventually be expected to be in one way or another.

The only difference?

His father