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The silence became unbearable. Struggling to breathe was something I despised, yet, when it came to him, it happened quite often. All of the worries, everything seemed to vanish the moment I looked at his green eyes.
“Take these off, Ekaterina,” he groaned.
I was quick to listen to his words. Worst case scenario, I had to knock him out again. The only problem was the lack of strength I had. Given the things that went down last night and that I’d just had my blood drawn by Eliana, it was a struggle to even walk.
I cut the ropes with a knife. A scream came from me as I unexpectedly felt his hands on my body. He was tugging my pants down and nothing but pure shock was on my face. As much as I wanted to have sex with him, neither of us was in any state for that.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking,” he mumbled. His fingertips trailed around the butterfly tattoo on my hip before he pulled my pants back up. I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, that scar is still there,” I said loudly once he rolled my shirt up, revealing the bullet scar on my back that I’d gotten a long time ago.
His hands were on each of my cheeks, bringing my face closer to his. Slowly he lifted my chin up. “The birthmark is there, too.”
The calm expression when he realized that it was me, that I was real and alive, soon turned into a sour, confused look. His eyes dropped to my throat, and his touch faded away. I couldn’t comprehend the expression on his face. Was it anger, or could it have been regret?
“I did that.” It was a statement as clear as day.
“You did,” I confirmed. “But don’t worry about it. It wasn’t on purpose.”
Adrik’s behavior was odd. His eyes drifted from me, then to every single inch of the destroyed living room. I didn’t get the chance to ask what the hell he was searching for because soon enough, I had my answer.
He’d found the gun in the kitchen, one of the many I had in my stash. He checked for bullets and emptied the clip, leaving only one inside. The safety was off and, before I knew it, the gun was in my hands.
“What—”
I stopped myself. His hands squeezed mine as he placed my finger on the trigger. Immediately after, he was on his knees, looking up at me, eyes void. Adrik guided my hands towards his forehead until the barrel touched his skin.
“I hurt you. Intentional or not, I put my hands on you. Death is what I deserve.”
My mind went into an overdrive. Despite my efforts, I couldn’t break free from the hold he had on my arms. How did he still have that much strength left, especially after what had happened less than fifteen hours ago?
Adrik’s gaze changed. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft. It was a certainty that laced his entire expression. This was a spur of the moment thing, yet he was confident in his decision. If I pulled the trigger right now, he would die with no regrets.
“Let me go.”
“Pull the damn trigger, little lion.”
My eyes softened.
A year ago, I would’ve pulled the trigger myself before he had the opportunity to ask. Until now, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d changed. It was him that had changed me.
Adrik on his knees, with me holding a gun aimed at him. That was the strength I craved. He gave me power over him. His life was mine. Mine to play with, mine to love, and mine to take away.
We were each other’s worst nightmare. It was foolish to assume death would do us part. Even in death, we were chained together by the blood on our hands, the merciless veins that ran through our bodies. Each other’s perfect match made in hell.
“I’m not killing you, Adrik.”
His eyes remained glued to mine. Doubt flashed behind the forest green, though he didn’t voice it out loud. His grip was still tight. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pry my hands out of his. One wrong move, and the trigger would go off.
“Do it,” he urged. He was completely dissociating himself from me, looking through me, as if he was begging me to pull the trigger.
“Right now, we need to leave,” I tried reasoning.
He blinked, jaw clenched and grip still as tight. I looked away, though my hand began trembling. I didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t hurt me on purpose, and I now knew not to approach him during a manic episode.
“You’ll take me with you.” It was a demand.
