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

a dog huffing at the end of its chain. His fists tangled into his hair as he snarled under his breath, turning away from Roman at the same time.

The man was just seconds away from losing his shit, and Roman was prepared. What else was he supposed to do now? The only thing he could do with his hands tied—talk. It was the only thing, next to stealing cars, that he was actually good at.

“Do you have proof?” he asked again. “Who is she?”

“Shut up!” Maxim roared at him. As fast as the man exploded, the unsettling calm returned when he added, “Yes, I have fucking proof. She was my oldest daughter. I buried her.”

The two men glared, silence stretching on in the dank, musty basement.

It just didn’t make any sense to Roman. How and why was Leonid speaking to Katina—if she was dead? And if so, then who was she?

Someone with a personal vendetta against Maxim, apparently. Enough to want to see him dead.

Roman didn’t have the chance to think about it for long. That pain he’d been fighting finally took him under, dragging his consciousness with it.

Great.

• • •

Roman came back to when violent shakes rocked him awake. The pain was the first thing he remembered—felt—but the gravity of his situation came back just as fast. More surprising was the reason why he was shaking so hard the chains above him rattled.

Maxim had fished a knife out from somewhere, and was cutting the ropes where they’d been tied to the chain over Roman’s head.

Before he could even ask why, he fell to the floor. Feet first, too, but the impact sent shock waves all through his body, and the weakness in his muscles and bones was too much to keep him standing for long before he crumbled to the floor.

Clenching his teeth to stop from groaning, Roman struggled against the dirty floor to stand as quickly as he could. Even if it was on shaky legs and bent knees.

The feel of the solid floor underneath his feet reassured him. Maybe there was still a chance he’d be able to make it out alive tonight.

By the time he was up and able to breathe—albeit, with pain that he tried to soothe by wrapping an arm around his tender chest—Maxim had retreated to the far corner of the room where he’d deposited his shirt. With his back turned to Roman, he started putting it on.

Roman rubbed his wrists where the ropes were still wrapped, before pulling the ruined constraints off while he did. Raw and red—probably swollen, too, but he couldn’t tell in the low light—his wrists and fingers felt like needles pricking into his skin everywhere as blood rushed through the appendages. The tips of his fingers and fingernails had turned purple, but he figured that would get better now that the blood was circulating again. The pain in his hands was nothing compared to his ribs and the rest of his muscles.

Fuck.

Considering Maxim still had him under his control, why he cut him down was a goddamn mystery, but one he was happy with. Roman’s mind didn’t linger on the questions for long because he was more concerned with the man now pacing in the corner of the basement.

Under his breath, Maxim muttered to himself, face drawn into a scowl. “Katina ... Jesus Christ, I should have seen it.”

Roman stilled, listening closer only to hear Maxim ask, “But when? Fuck.”

All at once, the thing he’d thought was off became blindingly clear to Roman.

If Katee was one of the alters invented by Karine, was Katina—

“I’ll let you live,” Maxim said suddenly, staying in his corner though he’d turned back on Roman in his distraction. “I’ll forgive you your transgressions—I won’t even make you fucking beg for your life. Though I damn well should.”

Roman stood firm, staring the man down because he wasn’t about to start showing weakness or fear now. “For what?”

Because there had to be a trade. He expected nothing different, but he didn’t believe for a second it was going to be something entirely in his favor. Strangely, he thought but I can deal with that, if it means she—and just like that, he stopped his thoughts from running further.

Not that it mattered, he knew.

Roman just wanted to make sure Karine came out safe from this. Safe from Dima. Wasn't it the least he could do? Wasn’t she owed that, considering everything?

He had no doubt—there wasn’t a soul in the city of Chicago that gave a shit about her beyond what they could use her for. Even her own father basically said it—his actions proved it.

Who did she have?

No one.

So, he would. He’d give a fuck. At this point, it was the only thing he cared about.

He wondered if saying that out loud might help his case, but Maxim interrupted him before he could make the mistake. “You’re to leave. Now. Go back to New York—go wherever the fuck you want to disappear to. If I ever hear you mention anything about the Yazovs to anyone, anywhere, I will find your balls and feed them to you. Before I mail your severed cock to your mother, of course.”

Roman swallowed hard, but stayed quiet.

Maxim arched a thick, dark brow. “Do you understand what I am saying to you? No one can know. Not a soul.”

Even just a few days ago—Roman would have laughed at a proposition like that. Nobody told him what to do. Not even his own father. Not his grandfather. Maxim meant fuck all to him. Even if the man had a sliver of Roman’s respect, he didn’t anymore.

But Karine...

She meant more.

More than his stupid pride.

So, he listened to Maxim’s offer. And considered it.

“You’re just going to let me walk away?” Roman asked. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Not alone. You take her with you.”

Roman’s pulse picked up speed, but he kept that calm exterior.

There was no way ...

What was happening?

“I don’t want to hear about her ever again,” Maxim continued, “and especially