Guilt swamped me. “I’d left. You’d lost your father, our son… Grief impairs our judgement.”
“I know,” she murmured, her beautiful face scrunched up in an expression of pain and anguish. “God, it’s all such a blur. I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate that he made me feel weak and needy. I hate that I wasn’t the one to kill him. I hate that it fell to you.”
“That’s not who you are, Quinn. You’re not a killer. My hands are stained with blood, and I have no regrets about the lives I’ve taken. I have no regrets about killing Ori for you. For us. For Helena.”
“You didn’t think I was strong enough to kill him then. Youstilldon’t think I’m strong enough, do you?”
“This isn’t about strength. Strength has nothing to do with it.”
“Barrett has killed more than once. She’s not just survived it, she’s thrived in the world she created for herself,” she pointed out.
“It depends how you look at it, I suppose. Besides, Barrett ran away on the anniversary of Igor’s death. She hasn’t escaped the trauma; she just manages her darkness. Sometimes she embraces it. But once you kill, you can’t go back. Thinking and doing are not the same.” I sighed. “I don’t want you to have to live with guilt or regrets. I don’t want you to become a killer. I don’t want you to become like us.”
“MaybeIwant to become like the two of you. MaybeIwant to open that door and see what’s on the other side. Right now, it feels like I’m being refused entrance to a private club because I’m not good enough.”
“You don’t want in this club. Trust me.”
“This is just another thing you and Barrett share. You’re bound to each other in a way I can never be. And your relationship is beautiful. I used to be jealous, but I’m not anymore because I know you love me. And I know that she loves me like a sister, and I love her the same way. But, Sasha, this is about control. I don’t feel like I have control.”
“Control over what?”
“Life. Circumstances. Everything. I hate being at the mercy of stronger people than me.”
“And you think killing Ori would’ve made you feel differently?”
“Yes. Without a doubt.”
“There are different ways of being strong. You don’t have to be a killer to be strong. You don’t have to be like Barrett.”
“I admire the hell out of that woman. I picture her when she’s older as this gray-haired, bad ass matriarch that still commands everyone like they’re a part of her personal legion. But what about me, Sasha? Why do I feel like I live in the shadows of everyone around me?”
“Why do you put yourself there?” I fired back.
“A damn fine question.” She paused. “I want to take control of my life. I want to choose the course of the river, not just feel like I’m being swept away in it.” She raked a hand through her tangled hair. “I need something from you.”
“Anything.”
“I want you to teach me.”
“Teach you what?”
She pinned me to the spot with a stare I knew was deadly serious. She was filled with resolve, and I worried what she might ask.
“Teach me how to kill.”
“No,” I said flatly.
She shrugged. “Fine. I’ll ask Barrett to teach me.”
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “That’s not a good idea, Quinn.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” she said, her tone stony. Her expression hardened further. “I’ve been a princess my entire life, Sasha. Teach me to become a queen. I’m ready.”
I sighed a long, drawn-out exhale. “You know I can’t deny you.”
“I planned on that,” she said with a slight smile.
“Training and doing are not the same,” I stated. “I’ll show you what you need to know, but I pray you’ll never have to use it.”
