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Another video started up. Theo entered the bridge and talked to the crew. One of my men picked up the phone and Theo began discreetly taking pictures of the digital navigation display. This explained how the helicopter found us. In my hurt and surprise over Theo’s departure, I hadn’t thought to ask.
When it ended Ilya went to start another video. “More?” I asked.
“This one you will definitely want to see.” He pressed the button. It was Theo, texting in one of the empty staterooms. His thumbs flew over the keyboard, then he swiped on the glass. Opening an app? He frowned, lines of frustration creasing his brow as he continued to scroll and type on his phone.
Then he jerked in surprise.
He peered closer at his phone, his eyes round and wide. A second later he slumped against the wall. The look on his face . . . it was ravaged. Destroyed. Surprise and confusion, followed by hurt and fear. And I knew this was the moment.
This was the moment he learned who I was—what I was.
Fuck.
My stomach dropped to my toes as I watched the man I loved bend over at the waist, like he might get sick.
I make him sick.
The knot in my chest twisted, strangling me. Theo’s body curled in on itself so I could not see his face, but I didn’t need to. I could practically sense his pain, his utter devastation. My secrets were too much for him, and now he knew the truth.
“Are you out?”
A much easier question to ask instead of, Are you a murderer and a criminal? No wonder he rushed to get away from me.
“Enough,” I said, shoving the tablet away. I could not look at this any longer. It was breaking my heart.
“What are you going to do?” Ilya studied me. “This is very bad for us.”
“He will not tell anyone.”
“You do not know this. He could—”
“He won’t!” I snapped. “He is not cruel or vindictive, not like us.” Theo would want to forget me, return to his life of loud parties and bright lights, leaving my shadows and darkness behind.
And I loved him enough to let him. He belonged there, in the spotlight for everyone to adore. He was never mine to keep anyway. I couldn’t leave the Bratva, and Theo could never join it, even if he wanted to.
I propped my elbows on my knees and stared down at my feet. Fuck. I hadn’t expected this to hurt so badly.
“I am sorry, Nikolai,” Ilya said softly as he stood up.
Yes, I was also sorry. But after a life spent as a brutal criminal, I knew there was no time to waste on silly emotions. “Kick the Italians off the yacht. Let’s return home.”
Chapter Nine
MUNICH, GERMANY, ONE MONTH LATER
NIKOLAI
I stared at the mess on the ground.
Someone clapped my shoulder, jostling me. “He’s dead, Pakhan.”
Snapping out of my haze, I handed my knife to Ilya. “Clean this trash up,” I barked at my men. They nodded quickly, no one meeting my eyes.
This one had been especially brutal.
I turned and left the cellar, climbing the stairs that led to my office. I could wash the blood off there.
“You are getting worse,” Ilya dared to mutter behind me.
