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I listen with half an ear, still burrowed into Luka’s chest, as jumbled thoughts bounce between my ears. Relief floods my insides, intermingling with the horror of realizing that my father was the Devil incarnate. Did anyone really know him? I sure as fuck didn’t.
My mind trips back to that night when Luka snatched me from my home. The image of his defeated expression is one that’s been branded into my memory. But it wasn’t defeat. It was an act, a power play that cast me as a potential casualty of war.
For weeks, I’ve wrestled with my conflicted feelings for him, not even knowing so much as a shred of the full story that led me here.
By sending me into the lion’s den, my father rejected me. He cast me aside as if I wasn’t worthy of his care or concern. As time passed, I saw clearly that I wasn’t important enough to him beyond his business goals.
Did he view me and my sisters as interchangeable? If I’d died as part of his sick plan, would he have just replaced me, no regrets, no fucks given at all?
Today, I found out the truth — that he was a cold-hearted bastard who valued money, status, and influence over everything else in his life. There are no excuses for the man he actually was, there would never be redemption for that degree of evil.
What a fucking jagged pill to swallow.
I run my hand over my father’s pale, cold one, and drag the tips of my fingers through the deep red liquid pool surrounding him. His blood is on my hands now, too.
And my family…fuck. I need to tell my mom and sisters. Everything.
Will they feel as numb inside as I do when they hear the truth about who and what he was?
Minutes later, I sink into the passenger seat of Luka’s car. Luka closes my door and jogs around to his side, slamming the door shut once he’s seated. A shudder rumbles my insides, chills slithering up and down my spine.
“How could he do this to us?” I scream, pounding my fists on the dashboard. “How could he be so fucking vile?”
Luka lets out a deep sigh, leaning back against the leather seat. “This life makes people do crazy shit.”
I turn toward him, my eyes wide. “Crazy shit? Really? Like sacrificing a child for money?”
“I’ve seen crazier, if that makes you feel any better.”
“No,” I snap. “It doesn’t, actually. What I feel is pure hatred. Do you know how horrible that sounds? My father is dead and all I can say about him is that I hate him, and I don’t give a damn that he’s gone. I didn’t cry for him. I didn’t feel anything but nausea when I looked at him.”
“You’re saying all of this because you’re angry. You don’t really mean it.”
“Yes, I do. I loved a mirage of a man, not the real person that he was. The real Ivan Resnov should go to hell for all he did. He belongs there since he’s the real Devil, anyway.”
“I think there are a few people probably in contention for that title,” he says darkly. “But you might feel differently in a few days. The past few weeks have been chaotic. Once things settle down, you’ll have a chance to think. You might not be as angry.”
“Is that how you feel now that Dima is gone? You’ve had time to think about it. Are you less pissed off?”
“Dima tried to warn me about this before he died,” Luka says quietly, tracing his fingertips over the top of the steering wheel. “He told me I had to stay and fight, to save the family. Said I couldn’t leave Miami. He knew he was dying, and I guess it was his way of trying to make things right.”
My jaw drops. “You never told me any of that.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know what it meant…if it was about Val or Dmitri or something else entirely. And he didn’t get a chance to answer me before he coded. The guilt must have eaten at him, and he needed to unload it all before he died. So am I less pissed off at him?” He taps his fingers on the wheel. “In a way, yeah. He did the right thing when he gave me that warning. I mean, part of the reason must have been because he regretted fucking us over. That counts for at least a shred of redemption.”
“Yeah, well, my father doesn’t deserve a shred of a shred. His last words were that hate makes people hurt and kill others, and then he shot you. How the fuck is that grounds for absolution?”
“Right now, you’re wrecked. I get it. I felt that way for a long time, babe. But you have a chance to make a future, on your terms. You don’t want to let your anger hang over it like a black cloud.”
He brings a hand to my face, stroking my non-bruised cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t want that to taint what we’re gonna build together. And I know you don’t either. So do what you feel you need to do. Be angry. Be sad. Be frustrated. But after all that shit clears, let it go. I let my anger control me for too damn long. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t give it that power. Don’t let it bleed into everything else.”
If only it were that easy.
