Vengeance

CHAPTER 17

Tabitha wanted to curse every minute of her life, every choice that had led her here. What wrong had she done to deserve this? She still couldn't comprehend how she had failed to see Anatoly's true colors all these years. She couldn't be this naive.

Her thoughts were broken by the ringing of her phone. The sound jolted her when her eyes fell on the name flashing on the screen, her hands trembling as she reached for her phone.

Mikhail was right. She cannot crumble under Anatoly, particularly when he is simply calling her on the phone. She silently prayed for Anatoly to go away. She decided to put her faith in Mikhail's words.

“Hello,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady, though she feared it was a terrible attempt.

"My place immediately after school." He stated, his tone cold and commanding.

Before she could respond, he hung up. Tabitha stared at the screen, momentarily dazed. Should she do as he said or should she inform Mikhail? The conflicting questions buzzed in her mind.

She decided against it. She knew that Mikhail had no intention of leaving her alone, particularly after her suicide attempt. She had to learn to deal with Anatoly on her own. She could not always rely on Mikhail. He had done more for her than she could have ever asked for, but now it was her turn to step up, even if fear threatened to choke her every step of the way. However, all of her courage crumpled the instant Anatoly opened the door and dragged her inside without a word.

"Leave my hand," she demanded, her voice trembling as she struggled to free herself from his grip. His hold only tightened, his fingers digging into her wrist with an unsettling power.

She couldn't recall a single instance in which he had voluntarily taken her hand during the period they had known each other. And now, here he was, manhandling her as if she were some object to be controlled. The stark contrast between his composed demeanor from before and this rough aggression sent a chill down her spine.

"What were you doing at Mikhail's place last night?" Anatoly demanded, coming directly to the point.

Tabitha tripped slightly as he abruptly dropped her hand. His blood boiled at the thought of her being with his brother. One of his men had reported her whereabouts, and the idea of her under Mikhail's roof was enough to make his vision blur with rage. The mere thought of her being in Mikhail's presence made him want to throttle her throat.

"I did not want to. He forced me to go with him." Tabitha admitted, her voice shaking as she rubbed the red marks left by Anatoly's grip. She wanted to appear strong, but it felt as if all her energy had been drained.

Was this how her life was going to be, juggling between two brothers until one of them disappeared for good? She could somehow handle Mikhail, but Anatoly? He had become her worst nightmare.

"Forced you? It didn't seem forced when you willingly slept with him." He snorted.

"You know that he pretended to be you. I thought you understood that." Her voice cracked, eyes welling with tears.

"You should not believe everything I say, Tabitha," Anatoly sneered, his voice low and dangerous. "And that was before you wanted to break up with me. But now that you know my truth, do not ever think for a minute that I am not going to hold that against you." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her, closing the distance until he stood just a foot away. "Initially, I was worried about how I would keep you with me once you found the truth about me. But now... it isn't so difficult."

She tried to move back, but he didn't allow her to. He roughly grabbed both her arms, squeezing them tightly.

"What are you doing?" Her voice quivered under his dark gaze.

"Trying to get my fill before I leave you alone for a while." He murmured, his words dripping with malice.

Her instant reaction was to look at him, eyes wide with a fleeting glimmer of hope that Mikhail's words might somehow be true. But that hope died when Anatoly pressed his lips against her cheek, trailing them down her neck. Her body stiffened at the unexpected contact, her pulse quickening in panic.

"Anatoly," she whispered, her voice shaking with horror. Her heart raced in her chest, a surge of dread overtaking her.

Though she had known Anatoly for years, it felt like a lifetime ago when she felt at ease with him. It was strange—she felt more secure with Mikhail, his twin, than she ever had with Anatoly.

"Hmm. Did you take my name the same way while you were with Mikhail?" He murmured, his lips not leaving her skin.

She tried to pull away, but his grip on her tightened. Her continuous attempt was evidently making him agitated, resulting in him biting her neck. Tears ran down her cheeks.

What has become of her, and who is this man in front of her? Under no circumstances would she live with him. If at all, she is not left with a choice, she would kill herself.

He then pulled away abruptly, catching her off guard, but she had never felt more grateful. She wanted to flee, but his words convinced her to stay put. "This won't be so bad."

"What do you mean?" She wrapped both arms around herself, attempting to shield herself from his malevolent look, and slowly took a step back.

"I'm taking medication to help me deal with all of this. I do not care so much about cutting off from the world because of the dirt around us, but the thought of Mikhail finding happiness with you, something that should have been mine, drives me insane."

"Anatoly, please. I want nothing to do with either of you. Let me go, and I promise I won’t ever contact Mikhail."

He simply shrugged. "I do not care. This conversation wouldn't be happening if Mikhail had not entered our lives. You would have never considered leaving me for him, but now that everything has changed, it’s only fair I do the same." His eyes narrowed. "Now, tell me—what did Mikhail want from you? Why were you with him the previous night?"

She knew no words could release her from this trap. The only excuse she could cling to was the one Mikhail had given her.

"Mikhail wanted me to get back with him. When I told him no, he threatened me with your and Anastasia's lives. Even though I no longer have interest in you, I didn’t want anything to happen to either of you because of me."

Anatoly stared at her, his expression hardening. "I’m not sure I want to believe you, but you’re naive, Tabitha. Soft-hearted. You think too highly of others." He took a step forward, his eyes glinting with something darker. "It was because of you that I’m out of his prison. And because of you, Mikhail lost the bet while I won."

"Bet?" Tabitha's forehead furrowed with confusion. "What bet?"

“Yes, a bet," Anatoly said, his voice cold, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Mikhail's challenge was to make you his wife within a month. But since you want nothing to do with him and have rejected him, I win. So, perhaps we could be civil with one another, provided you don’t cross any lines."

She felt a stinging ache in her chest. Just when she wanted to believe good in Mikhail, she made a fool of herself. Again. Anatoly, on the other hand, was pleased with the development. Her expression was proof that she was devastated, and it only made her views against his twin stronger.

"Don’t worry about my mother or me," Anatoly continued, his tone laced with cold assurance. "Mikhail won’t be able to harm us. You only need to stay away from him. Limit yourself to school and home until I return. And don’t even think about avoiding me. I know right where to find you."

He reached up, trailing his fingers down her cheek with a smirk that made her skin crawl. She recoiled instinctively, his touch leaving her feeling filthy. Every part of her revolted at the thought of his proximity.

Even though her actions infuriated him, her silent response pleased Anatoly. It only confirmed what he had hoped that his girlfriend was now more obedient than ever. This compliance would make his life easier and, more importantly, benefit his mother's well-being.

When she finally left his house, instead of going to Mikhail’s as planned, she made her way to her own home. The exhaustion weighed heavily on her, both physically and mentally. She regretted the day she had ever met Anatoly. She wished she could go back to that moment, turn him away, and reject his advances. If she had, none of this—none of the pain, the confusion, the struggle between the brothers—would have ever happened. Her life could have been normal, free from the suffocating control of the men who had torn it apart.

With a heavy sigh, she curled up under the covers, hoping to find some solace in sleep. But even in her rest, the weight of the past few days lingered, leaving her uneasy as she drifted into a troubled slumber.