“And he made me watch. Made me stand there while her blood soaked the dirt.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.
“Don’t be.” I bring the top of her hand to my lips. “That was the first time I learned what love costs. What it destroys.” I pull her in by the back of her head, my grip a little too tight. “I swore to never cross that line again.”
But now I want to.
She sags against me, her arms winding around my back as we lie together in the aftermath. Neither of us says anything for a while, and I understand that what I just gave her is a lot to process.
But that’s who my father was, and I swore that I would never become like him. That I would never have children and do what he did to me to someone else.
I was born from a monster, and I’m bound to create one too.
But Tessa doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t run. She stays in my arms. Her fingers trace one of the old scars like it means something now. Like it’s not a flaw, but a story she’s willing to carry. And that does something to me. It lodges deep in my chest, somewhere between ache and fury, and it terrifies the hell out of me.
So I don’t say another word. I don’t thank her. Don’t ask what she’s thinking. I just hold her against my chest. Like maybe if I keep her close enough, long enough, the dark won’t find her.
Not like it found Katya.
Not like it found me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMILIA
I can’t help it.I actually feel sorry for the devil.
Maybe because now I sort of understand him, and a part of me hurts for the child that died the night he lost the girl he loved.
His story is heartbreaking. The blood. The violence. The brutality carved into his bones since childhood.
It’s no wonder Konstantin Marinov became the man he is. We’re all shaped by what raised us, aren’t we? Twisted by it. Hardened by it. At least partly. And from what I’ve seen, he and his brothers were born in fire and forged in hell. That, I can appreciate.
My mother enjoyed beating me too, the few times she was sober enough to actually realize I existed. The uninvited twinge in my chest resurfaces, but I shove it back down. Lock it in the box I always keep sealed.
Now isn’t the time. I have a job to do.
Getting close to Konstantin is working. Too well.
The silence between us stretches like an open wound that refuses to close.
I haven’t said anything else since he told me what his father did. Since he let me glimpse into the darkness still clinging to the corners of his soul.
Lying against him, curled into the crook of his body, my head on his chest, I listen to the thuds of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, and for a second, I imagine it tethered to mine. Like we’re two people born into hell, connected in that way.
I let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me, forcing myself to forget who he is and let myself sink into it, pretending this is something real. Something good. Something that won’t end in disaster.
At the very least, I got multiple mind-blowing orgasms out of it. Small victories.
“I’ll have to meet your brother sometime,” Konstantin slices through my thoughts. “To thank him for teaching you to shoot like that.” He looks down at me, intensity brewing in his eyes. “When will I get to meet him?”
I shrug, keeping my tone easy. “Not sure. He’s not around much. But next time he visits, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Good luck with that…
“Please do.” His gaze pins me. “I’d love to know more about him…and the rest of your family.”His fingers trace a slow path along my arm, sending a pulse of heat through my veins. “Seems only fair I learn more about yours.”
Shit.
