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I hesitate for a second, before my own arms encircle her, holding her close to me. If only I could keep her here, just like this.
“Tell me like this,” she whispers.
“With you on my lap?” My voice is thick with emotion. I clear it.
“Yes, Cain. Just like this.”
No more “Mr. Master.”
I nod. “You killed him, Violet. Team Alpha’s disposed of the body. He won’t kill another soul.”
She’s quiet for long moments.
“Will they… his group. Will they come looking for him? For retribution?”
“I’ve seen to it that they won’t.”
“Do I want to know how?”
“I’ll tell you if you want me to, but no. You don’t need to know.” It involved two point four million dollars, an oddly specific number from the superstitious Castellanos, a convincing argument made by Joe, Claude demonstrating that Violet acted in self-defense, and the second-in-command in the Castellano family admitting that their man had gone rogue.
It might have helped that I made it fucking clear that they don’t want to take me and my team on and that a mutually beneficial relationship would be more fortuitous for both of us. They agreed, and promised we’d never see Armand’s face again.
“Alright, then,” she says in that calm, graceful way of hers I’ve come to love. “Don’t tell me.”
The room’s grown dark, with only a sliver of light before the sun’s rays fully set, but I make no move to put a light on. I feel if I move too fast or breathe too heavily, I’ll break the charm that binds us together. Maybe the Castellanos aren’t the only ones with superstitions.
She sighs.
“Are you sad, Violet?”
“I… I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I was more angry than anything for a while, as I’m sure you know. I was furious with you, Cain. I hated when I felt like everything between us was a lie.”
I have so many things to say I have to clamp my lips together to let her say what she needs. It’s the least I can do. I owe this to her.
“And after all this time, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to know when I pulled the trigger that he was the one that murdered my parents and that he earned the bullet that killed him. That he was getting his just rewards and my parents were avenged for what happened to them.”
Her voice trembles. “And I… didn’t know if I’d be able to do it when the time came. If I could intentionally choose to take a human life, even if I was justified and had good reason.” She sighs. “And now I’ll never know. Now I’ll spend the rest of my life never knowing if I had what it takes.”
“Oh no you don’t. Uh uh. Nope.”
I spin her around so she’s facing me, her legs straddling either side of me. It feels so intimate with her here like this, which is precisely why she’s here and not sitting over there apart from me, where I can’t touch her, hold her, keep her.
“What?” she says, lifting her chin defiantly. But I don’t miss the way her pupils dilate. I don’t miss the way she swallows, or the way her breathing accelerates. She’s turned on.
But we have something to discuss.
“You don’t get to blame yourself for what you did. I won’t allow it.” She opens her mouth and is likely planning on reminding me that I don’t allow or disallow a blessed thing, but she finally just shakes her head and clamps her lips together. Good, because I’m not done yet.
“Violet.” I hold her chin. God, I missed the way her soft skin feels against my rougher fingers. The way her eyes widen when I make her hold my gaze. “Just because you reacted by instinct doesn’t mean it wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t pre-meditated, no. It wasn’t in cold blood, no. But listen to me when I tell you that if it was, you might never forgive yourself.”
A pained look lights her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t get used to it,” I say gruffly. I make myself hold her gaze. “You don’t. Taking someone’s life, no matter how justified, never feels right. You go to bed at night wondering who you left mourning their loss. You wonder if you had all the facts straight, if they changed who they are and really did deserve to be killed.” My voice lowers as my own emotions threaten to choke me. “You start to wonder if you’ve mistakenly given yourself more privilege than you’re allowed, and you wonder if the universe will demand more of you now that you’ve demanded more yourself.”
She says one word, one syllable, that brings the smallest measure of comfort to me. “Cain.”
I swallow again and keep going. “You talk about forgiveness, Violet. What you don’t understand is that once you take a human life on purpose, it becomes almost impossible to ever forgive yourself for becoming the person you have.”
