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He comes towards me, making me want to shrivel into his overpowering presence. He stops and watches me nervously shift my weight.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
I don’t know how to answer because I don’t know why I felt the urge to come today. I just felt it. I swallow back my fear and give him the truest answer I know right now.
“The memories are coming back,” I confess to him. “They started ever sinceyoucame back.”
Viktor nods, accepting my response. He walks to the fireplace, crouches down and ignites the bits of wood left inside. There’s a few chair legs scattered in the corner of the room. He picks them up and throws them into the fire too.
“You’re not the only person unhappy that I’d returned,” he says with his back to me.
I sigh. “That’s not how I meant it.”
He turns his head and I can see the side of his face glow from the fire he started. “Tell me what you meant.”
I lick my lips, unsure how to answer. Nothing has made sense lately. This new person I’m becoming, the one who not only wanted to have sex with Viktor butneededto… this isn’t a person I’m familiar with. I was ordered to spy on Viktor, but I refused to give information to the man who sent me. Arkady would have killed me if he suspected I was holding out on him.
Warmth fills the room as the fire Viktor built grows. I look over the rest of the room and it’s clear that every inch of the house has been turned over. A pile of books are spread across the floor near a broken lamp. Bookshelves, stands… anything that could be knocked over and broken has been. The sofa is upright but I see a dusty shadow of its shape on the floor. Viktor must have turned it over when he came inside.
My mouth hangs open, searching for a response, until one comes.
“I wish I could make things right…” I say in a weak voice, filled with guilt over my work with the rival Bratva.
My father and I have lived in service to Arkady and his men since the day of the attack. He’s rationalized it many times over the years, saying it was all he had to offer the attackers when they were about to kill us. They’d already killed my mother, and we were next but somehow my father Pyotr Ivanov made a deal with a band of murderers so enticing they spared our lives.
I know my father resents being forced to work for them. He won’t even tell me which Bratva organization we’re helping.
Viktor laughs at my answer. “A fucking army of criminals came here. They destroyed our home. They killed my mother and other innocent people. And you want to makethatright?”
The top of my ears burn with embarrassment from my response to Viktor. He’s right. What a silly thing to say.
He stands and turns to me, his body a shadowy silhouette against the fire growing behind him. “Then make it right,” Viktor says in a low voice.
My brows furrow, confused by his response.
He walks toward me, echoing my answer. “You said you wish you could make it right,” he says with a simmering fury in his voice.
Does he know I’m a spy for his enemy?
I step backwards until I feel my back against the wall. My hair catches and pulls against splinters of the exposed wood behind me. I dart my eyes around the room, looking for an escape, whether by words or a path to run away. Nothing comes.
Nothing other than Viktor’s advancing steps.
His eyes burn into mine the way they did the first night he returned. A flush of warmth spreads through me, wanting more of what we started that night, but I fear the consequences. My hand dives into my coat pocket, finding the knife I keep for protection. I unfold the blade with shaky fingers and point the knife at Viktor, unable to hide the tremble in my hands.
He laughs to himself, but continues coming towards me. “Is this what you meant by making things right?”
“No,” I say between rapid breaths. “But I’ll do it if I have to.”
The impulses inside me are in conflict, part wanting to keep myself safe by whatever means necessary, and part wanting to be wrapped in Viktor’s arms, feeling him inside me again. I try to ignore the wetness collecting in my panties, pushing the distracting sensation out of my thoughts so I can be ready to defend myself.
“You should do it,” Viktor says with an evil glint in his eyes.
He’s playing with my head. Tears form in my eyes, knowing there’s nothing I can do to stop him from coming towards me.
“Bury that blade in me,” he taunts as he reaches the point of my knife. He extends his arm and I swing, slicing the side of his hand. It doesn’t stop him. He grabs my wrist and slides his hand down until it closes around mine, steadying the blade. He lowers the tip of the knife to the center of his chest.
“Maybe if I’m dead, it’ll solve some problems,” he says, more to himself than me.
