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“If it had been you?”
“Destroying her once wouldn’t be enough. I would do it repeatedly until a sea formed from her tears.”
He could tattoo the wordvengeanceall over his body, and it still wouldn’t be enough to cover the pain I heard in his voice. I could almost see the monster he claimed lurked inside him.
“Who hurt you this bad?” I asked softly.
His eyes turned dull. “Hurt? I’m beyond that.”
“Are you?” Suddenly, it dawned on me. I remembered what he’d told me years ago. “You’re going after him, aren’t you? The man who had your mother killed.”
“He will get what’s coming to him. A life for a life.”
Every rational fiber in my being told me to walk away. It warned me that my words would fall on deaf ears. Yet I walked up to him anyway. Because when had I ever not followed my heart with this man?
I tilted my head at him. “And then what? Will you find peace? Will it give you happiness? What happens at the end of the vengeance tunnel?”
He didn’t say anything. His hand brushed my hair. I closed my eyes, craving his touch. When I opened them, I saw the darkness in his gaze. The sheer emptiness that was the answer to my question. Kristoff Romanov, the Soulless One, didn’t care about the end of the tunnel, because he didn’t care about life. He cared about death.
My heart shattered for the millionth time. I was a masochist who couldn’t accept the fact that vengeance was more important to him than I would ever be. He would always choose the path of the Count of Monte Cristo over me.
I stepped away from him, my stomach twisted into a knot. I gave him my back and left. When I was in the hall, I could finally breathe again. I needed to clear my head, focus on other things.
I debated what to tell Vicky when the door to the wine cellar banged open. Viking stormed out of it with an unconscious woman in his arms.
“Katya. Upstairs. Now,” he barked as he passed me.
Suddenly I had a fleeting suspicion I knew exactly where Vicky’s mother was.
20
KATYA
I lived in a household of mad men. I fidgeted in my seat next to Elena’s bed. Viking had stashed her in the guest room next to his. I couldn’t believe that while I had reassured Vicky that her mother would be fine, she’d been right under my nose.
She was covered in bruises and burning up with a fever. It was obvious where Vicky got her pretty looks, though she’d unmistakably inherited her white-blonde hair from her father. Elena’s hair, that was plastered to her heated skin, was a glossy auburn.
I swabbed a wet cloth over Elena’s burning forehead and cut Viking a look. “Could you please stop pacing? You’re making my head spin.”
He growled something, but this time I wouldn’t let him get away with his non-answer.
“She’s burning up.”
Another growl.
“I can’t believe you’ve kept Vicky’s mother in the basement for days and didn’t tell me.”
The pacing stopped. “What would you have done if you’d known?”
I narrowed my eyes. “We both know what.”
“Yeah. You would have busted her out.”
I still might. “I get that you’re pissed at this woman, but Vicky deserves to know her mother is safe.”
“I know that,” Viking snapped.
The blue fire in his eyes was disconcerting. I’d never seen him this haggard, this pent up with rage. I’d heard the stories, but to me, uncle Vik had always been kind, and occasionally even mellow compared to Kristoff.
