Page 35 of Then We Shatter

“Yes, Sir.”

It’s a pleasant change having someone in complete agreement with me. This guy’s growing on me.

“Look, I’m really sorry about this. Honest to god, this gives me no pleasure. None at all,” I confess as I slice and twist the blade across his neck, my cut jagged and deep enough to kill but not quickly. He gasps and gurgles as he drops to the ground, wide eyes staring up at me. “You see, a fucker like you deserves a drawn out, painful death, and if I had the time and patience, I’d make you suffer for days.” I turn to Shelley. “Sorry about that. My mind’s elsewhere.”

Katarina cancelled her hair appointment today. I knew she’d be pissed after catching me spying on her yesterday, and I was hoping we’d do some kissing and making up, but that would be too simple. Instead, I received my very first text. Apparently, her uncle’s getting twitchy and if she doesn’t set a date for her wedding, Vasili’s lined up someone else. A guy called Eric Peterson. A new name has just been added to my hit-list.

Chapter 13

Katarina

Now

Dropping the open gift bag onto my bed, I take a stumbling step back. Inside is a stuffed toy, a handmade, crocheted eggplant large enough to hold a generously-sized adult toy. Bright purple. It’s the one I’d had back in Chicago. The exact same one. It had been a gift from Killian.

I don’t know how Sasha got hold of it, but this is beyond cruel. She’d practically told me what to expect when she said it was a memento. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I shove my fist into my mouth to stifle the sob. Why the hell did I have to look? Why would she do this to me?

Razors scratch my vocal cords as I hold back the scream. I don’t want the fucking vibrator. I want Killian! Only him! I want my Shorty!

Grief bands around my chest until I can’t breathe. I pull open the French doors onto a small Juliette balcony, but the humidity offers no relief. The air is as heavy as the swollen storm clouds gathering on the horizon. In a room directly below, Vasili and Grigor are talking and Sasha laughs, a sound that often chases me in my nightmares.

My hands tremble as I grip the railing. Sasha’s gift might be what finally breaks me, but I can’t let my uncle question the importance of the vibrator. Despite the pain seeing it again has caused, it’s beyond precious. Irreplaceable.

Whirling around, I’m thankful I’m still wearing the cycle shorts and sneakers from this morning. I race downstairs and past the living space where Vasili and Blackwater Rock’s newest guests catch up over coffee.

“I’m going for a run!” I shout without stopping.

“Alexei, go with her!” barks Vasili.

“Where do you think she’s going to run off to?” Sasha asks, her words laced with amusement. “She can’t escape, Vasili. It’s impossible. The fences are electrified and Eric would have boats waiting if she tried to climb down the cliff face.”

And where would I go if I did make it to the water? I can’t leave without coordinating my escape with outside help, and I don’t have a phone. Realistically, who would come to my rescue? I have a feeling I’ve run out of luck and favors.

I just need a moment to breathe.

Once outside, I break into a run, heading in the opposite direction to the guarded gates. I might have been tempted to explore the fences separating Eric’s estate from the jungle, but Sasha’s little snipe has saved me the trouble. I cut across the lawn, back towards the cliffs where our helicopter landed yesterday.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms Alexei has come outside to follow my progress, but unlike me, he’s not dressed to run in this oppressive heat. He’s not going to pursue me. For a short while at least, I’m free.

Keeping a safe distance from the main villa, I gradually put some distance between myself and the rest of the world. Even the mindless chatter of birds and the hum of insects fall away, replaced by the crash of waves breaking far below.

As I approach the edge of this godforsaken isle, I’m tempted to walk straight off the cliff. I hate being trapped, but staying alive long enough to get revenge on my tormentors has to be worth the misery of my existence. It’s all I have.

I’d be free now if I hadn’t delayed taking up Ash’s offer. If Killian were still alive, he’d be blaming himself for my captivity, but it was my choice to spend more time with him.

Was it the right decision? Would I trade my memories with that mad Irishman for decades of anonymity, waiting for the stars to align so Killian and I could maybe be together?

What kind of question is that?

I’d do anything to go back in time and choose differently. I wouldn’t be on this wretched island. And Killian would still be alive.

I scream into the void. And I scream some more. I just want Killian’s arms around me one more time. Just once. That’s all.

“Fuck freedom! Fuck revenge! I want my Irishman!” I yell, my voice scratched and broken. “Tell me you’re waiting for me.”

As I teeter on the edge of the cliff, the only response is the sound of waves crashing over jagged rocks far below. There are no trades to be had.

“Damn you, Killian McConkey. You drove me mad and I drove you crazy, but together…” I tip my head up to the pewter sky. “Together we were beautifully insane.”