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Guilt over not seeing the truly evil person he was. Grief for the people he’d tormented and wronged.
And most of all, shame for the man I never really knew.
Luka runs toward me and slides to his knees next to me before pulling the tape from my mouth as gently as possible. It still stings like a bitch, but nothing worse than the scalding burn of disappointment, horror, anger, terror, and a whole boatload of feelings I can’t even begin to unpack right now.
“Is he—?” They are the first words I speak, the first ones to hit the tension-filled air.
Luka looks back over his shoulder and I follow his gaze, staring hard at the man I once called Daddy. His fingers jerk, his arm following suit.
“Get me out of this chair,” I say, my eyes trained on my father.
Luka cuts through the tape with a knife. I flex my wrists and ankles. A hacking cough startles me, and I turn my head toward Boris. He slowly rolls himself over, his face bloodied and bruised.
“You saved us,” I say. “Thank you.”
My gut twists when I turn to crawl over to my listless father. I lean over him, his blue eyes glassy and unfocused, his face pale white. I look down at him, and my heart aches for my mother and sisters, for being duped by the Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll.
“For weeks, I hoped and prayed that you weren’t the man everyone accused you of being. I wished you were a victim because if you weren’t, it would shatter me to my core,” I say in a strained whisper. “But instead, you destroyed me with your lies and your hate. You destroyed us all.”
A thick cough rumbles from his chest, blood streaming from both sides of his mouth. “I gave you everything, Natasha. And you always made sure to take it. Don’t fool yourself into believing you were a victim. You just didn’t want to see what was right in front of you.”
“I should feel sad right now. Devastated. But I don’t feel any of that.” Tears stream down my cheeks and fall onto his blood-soaked shirt. Sobs bubble deep in my chest, finally able to erupt. “I hate you,” I weep. “I fucking hate you.”
“Hate…will…eat you…alive,” he croaks. “It will…break you…and make you…hurt…and…kill…” Suddenly, his arm juts out, knocking me backward. I fall onto my hands with a loud yelp. He holds the gun in his trembling fingers and points it behind me.
“Luka!”
Pop! Bang! Crack!
The screams that follow shatter my heart and impale my soul.
My new life.
Gone.
