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Vasile was on the brink of taking me in his arms to plead with me, but I knew that if he touched me, the haze of passion would overtake me again. I could not let that happen, and so I turned on my heel, and fled alone from the cathedral, chasing my father and mother without another word.
Gathering up my dress in my hand, I joined my waiting family in what was intended to be my wedding carriage, and we set off as fast as the four horses could carry us, rushing against time to try to save my father’s life.
CHAPTER 27
Vasile
Valeria’s friend, Natasha, tried to go after her, but Daniel sensibly stepped in. Anyone could see from the look in Natasha’s eyes that she wasn’t herself, and I had no doubt that the culprit was none other than my own brother.
“Let her go,” Daniel said, his deep voice calming her. “Let’s get you to somewhere safe, away from here. Vasile?”
I nodded. “Go. Take her to my father’s estate. Get her any help she needs.”
Petre lay unconscious on the cathedral floor. With the drama seemingly over, the chaos calmed as the remaining guests were now filing out the main doors, and the priest had long since darted for the side chapel, so that now my brother and I were alone by the altar.
I was aware of the power of the place, and the irony of Petre’s blood trickling into the sacred stones. Religion had never had any power over me; I found no comfort in prayer, no strength in worship. But I knew that my brother and I were like something out of the Bible itself: good and evil, locked in an endless fucking battle.
For all our lives, he and I had dealt in the currency of vengeance. Of hatred and anger.
But now, standing there, looking down at him, I thought about something bigger—mercy, for him and for the rest of us.
What a mercy it would be to kill him, and put him out of his misery like the rabid fucking animal that he was.
Taking a step toward him, I cracked my neck, side to side, aware—but only barely—of the pain from the gunshot wound where it had grazed my upper shoulder. I slid my hand into my pocket, grabbing hold of my switchblade. The sound of it flicking open echoed around the church.
Looking down at him, I damn near felt sorry for him. For as long as I could remember, he’d been driven by his own darkness. What a shitty existence that must be.
Slit his throat; do the world a fucking favor.
Murder in a church was one hell of a sin, but I didn’t give a shit. He had it coming. Because of him, I’d lost the one good thing I’d ever had. And he was going to pay the motherfucking penance.
But no sooner had I taken a firm hold of my blade than a hand grabbed my shoulder. I swung around, ready to kill whoever it was, because this was fucking important: the world would be a far better place without my brother in it. If I swung from the gallows for it, then so fucking be it.
It was my father.
“Don’t,” he said softly, looking at me, then the blade, then back at me again. It took me a second to see through the crystalline murderous rage that stood between me and everything else. But once I did, I saw my dad’s kind eyes there, pleading with me.
There was no plea that could make any of this right. I shook my head slowly.
“He had you prisoner in your own home, Dad. He tried to have me killed. I don’t have a fucking choice.”
“You do,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like it now, but you do have a choice.” With one hand, he took hold of the blade, sharp edge away from his palm. With the other hand, he slowly pried my fingers from the hilt. Once he’d disarmed me, my father sighed heavily, sitting down slowly on the nearby pew. He looked older and more tired than I’d ever seen him. Carefully, he closed the switchblade, palming it and looking up at me once again. “I will not let whatever poison is inside him also end up killing you.”
It was too fucking late for that. I knelt down and picked up the ring I’d given her, which was now smudged with her father’s blood. “Losing her is what’s going to kill me. She’s the only thing that matters.”
My father nodded sadly, then contemplated the switchblade in his palm.
“Go, my boy. Now. And get away from this place. Please.”
Closing my eyes, I ground my teeth, seething with overpowering rage. And then stormed from the cathedral without another word.
I rode recklessly fast back to the manor house, half-blind with whipping snow squalls. I didn’t slow down, not even on the cliff-side paths, slippery with ice.
