Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

only kidnapped her, but forced her to marry me and murdered her ex-fiancé.
All true, technically, but still. For some reason, she’s the only one who
doesn’t hold any of that against me.
And it wouldn’t matter to the outside world that I murdered an abusive
prick who probably would’ve tried to kill her once their marriage was final,
especially after he found out she wasn’t a virgin. Nor would it matter that I
was trying to protect her and extract myself from this world when I did it.
When presented with the bones of a monster, the general public will
believe the story they’re told without digging any further.
They’re spoon-fed lies, and because they’re typically too stupid to think
for themselves, no one ever questions why their soup tastes like poison.
“Ariana says Mamá is still hell-bent on having me come home,” Elena
says after a long stretch of silence, shifting in her seat.
I glance at the bra—pink, matching those heels I’d kill to have wrapped
around my waist right now—visible through the lace top of her dress, and
make an unintelligible sound with my mouth, trying to downplay exactly how
much I disdain her mother.
At this point, too much has happened between us for me to ever be able to
break that part of my past to her. My history with Carmen Ricci will forever
live in the grave she tossed it into, and I’ll live on regretting that it ever
happened in the first place.
But like all deaths, the death of a relationship is permanent. The ending of
all endings. Finality in its purest form.
I can only hope she lets it stay that way.
“Would you ever consider... moving to Boston?”
My eyes find Elena’s, wide and curious as she stares at me. Rubbing my
thumb over my knee, I cock my head, pretending to consider it. “Full time?”
“Yeah, you know. Become a Bostonian. Pak ya ca in Havid Yad, and all
that fun stuff.” She smiles, giggling at the exaggeration of her accent, a
glimmer of something that looks an awful lot like hope shining in her gaze.
“Do you have a problem with Aplana?”
Her face falls, her smile freezing in place. “Not a problem, but....”
“Then I don’t want to hear about how badly you’d like to leave,” I snap,
not processing the words before they’re spewing from my lips, landing on the
seat between us with a dull thud.
Snapping my head forward, I pinch the bridge of my nose, blowing out a
breath. My other hand snakes across the leather for hers, but she shrivels