“Look at you,” I said, a soft, cruel laugh slipping free. “How the mighty fall.”
“Guess I won’t be making that little date you so carefully arranged for me after all.” A quiet, amused exhale. “What a pity.”
I tilted my head, studying the wreckage of his face like it was already carrion. “You’ll die blind.”
“Forgotten,” I continued, almost gentle, almost kind. “No one will mourn you. Your grandchild will never know your name. Never carry your poison.”
I let the silence swell, thick and final. Then I added, soft as a lullaby, “You’ll rot here in the dark… and your legacy of filth dies with you.”
A sound escaped him then—wet, rattling, like his lungs were filled with blood. A desperate, broken wheeze clawing its way outof his throat. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like the last gasp of something that should’ve died long ago. I recoiled, disgusted.
Behind me, Maksym shifted. I heard his voice, low and stunned. “Grandchild?”
I turned, walked back to him. His face had gone pale, his jaw tense, nostrils flaring as if he couldn’t get enough air. His eyes glistened, not quite tears—but close. His whole body was pulled taut, like he was bracing for something too big to hold.
“We don’t need to kill him,” I said, gently. “He’s not worth it. He’ll bleed out. Let him. Let him choke on his own sins.”
I took his hands and pressed them against my belly. He froze.
“This is for our future,” I whispered. “Let’s do it for him. Or her. I’m not sure yet.”
Maksym’s brows pulled together. “You told me you were on the pill.”
“It made me feel sick,” I admitted. “So I stopped. And I kept that from you. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t speak right away. Just exhaled hard, and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was still trying to process it. His hand moved down to rub his jaw, slow and tense. He looked over at the broken, wheezing man on the table—his enemy, my father, a ruined thing giving his last breaths—and then turned back to me.
“I can’t even process this shit in here,” he said, glancing back at the corpse. “We get to my place, we sit down, and we stop bullshitting each other. You feel me?”
His eyes dropped to my stomach again, then flicked up. “And I swear to God, Kira—if you weren’t pregnant, I’d bend you over right now and spank the shit out of you.”
Despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped me. Just a breath. But it felt like a crack of light through all the dark.
He took my hand.
We left the room without another glance at the thing we were leaving behind.
Halfway down the hallway, I slowed.
Maksym’s grip tightened instantly. “What?”
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted past him, landing on one of his men pouring gasoline across the floor, the sharp smell already filling the air.
For a second, I just watched.
Then I slipped my hand from Maksym’s and walked over.
The man froze when I approached, clearly not sure what the hell to do with me. His eyes flicked past me—to Maksym.
“Can I have that for a second?” I asked, gesturing to the canister.
He hesitated.
Maksym gave a small, almost lazy nod.
The man handed it over.
“Thanks,” I said lightly, already turning away.
