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I half expected Yuri to beg mercy for his young guard. This only cements for me further that Yuri himself had nothing to do with it, though I had little suspicion of it. Yuri is loyal, a very old ally, more like a brother than a soldier of mine. And this I won’t deny him, because his honor is on the line more than mine. I turn my gun and offer it to him by the grip, stepping back, wordless, as the wind howls around us.
I watch, but my eyes are glazed. The truth is that there has been so much violence, too much violence, of late; and I yearn for something simpler. For this place, if it were mine. This place in the snow or in the summer, with all of its fences mended and animals free in the pastures, with Kat lying in the sun, laughing,her son racing through the grass. She is my wife now, and integrated into my world—but could I ever dream of being in hers?
The unmercifulbang!of the gunshot pulls me back to reality.No, I think, as Toma’s mouth falls open and the animus deserts his eyes, leaving them agape, blank as canvases. He topples to his side, arms flopping loose, ankles crossed in the mud. Blood floods from the bullet hole in the front and back of his head, spilling in a rapid, dark halo.I would only poison her world, just as I have done; just as I am doing now.
“His sisters?” Asks one of my other men, stepping forward from the line. Sacha. His face is hard, cut as steel. When he looks down at Toma’s body, it is with derision. “Should we send word back to the chapter?”
I extend my hand, and Yuri returns my pistol. His face is haunted. He can’t seem to pull his eyes from the body of his man; now dead. Dead as the dirt he lies in. “The sisters won’t be harmed. There’s no point in it. His death will carry the weight it needs to.” I look at Toma. He was so young; younger even than Kat. In my softening heart, I feel a sting of meek pity. “And see his body back to his mother. No use leaving it here.”
No one seems to question this. I glance up at my men. They have a feel of steel to them, rigid spines and raised chins. The betrayal has strengthened their loyalty, and also alerted them. We are all more present now than we were. And for the better. Because, with the intelligence we got from Toma, there is no mistaking what comes next. The end is in sight.
It is time for Konstantin to die.
***
Kat is studying the digital screen on her camera, sitting in a reading chair upstairs, in a room I’ve never set foot in. In its doorway, on the threshold—I hesitate.
This is Adam’s room. It’s one of the few that doesn’t have peeling paint or a single-pane window, or any old furniture. Everything in it is loved and cared for, perfectly arranged, meticulously cleaned. Only a few of his toys are scattered on the patterned rug, and without asking, I gather that they’re probably where Kat’s son left them last.
They’ve been apart too long,I think, bitterly.It’s time I reunited them.
“Look, here he is on horseback,” she’s smiling, not even looking up at me as she leans forward and points the screen at me. Sure enough, dark-haired little Adam is there, her hand on his leg and back to keep him steady as he sits astride a beautiful, chestnut-colored horse. “His first time, and he was such a natural. He’s a natural at everything, I swear. The kids are going to hate him as soon as he’s in school.”
I smile, but it fades quickly. “Kat,” I say, and she stops me.
“I already know,” she says, flipping through the photos. It dawns on me that she’s showered and dressed, her hair braided over one shoulder. She’s not wearing any makeup or jewelry. The boots she has on are for working or hiking, black and laced halfway to the knee. “You’re sending me away.”
I hesitate. But why lie? Why postpone the inevitable? “Yes,” I say.
“I won’t go.”
“You will.”
She closes the window on her camera and lowers it into her lap, looking at me fiercely. “You see that I’m a part of this now, Aleks. I’m not just the victim anymore. I’m—”
“What?” I ask, challenging her, asking more sharply than perhaps I should. “What are you, Kat?”
She stands. “I’m your wife.”
I stare at her, almost in awe.Yes. You are. If only that could mean all that it should. If only it meant that we were in love,and were going to live happily ever after…But what kind of twisted fairy tale would this be? The kind where the princess is constantly fighting for her life? The kind where she marries no prince, but a rogue, a menace as much as her enemies? A monster?
I may not have pulled the trigger, but I killed one of my own men, just now. Kat has proven she is fierce enough to live in my world. But why the hell should she? She is soft, and beautiful, as much as she is a fighter with blood on her hands and in her teeth. She deserves better than this, and better than me; I can’t take back our marriage, or if I could, I wouldn’t. It protects her, and it serves me, too. But I can’t afford to picture a life where she is my wife in more ways than just this one. Where we are happy together.
“You are my wife,” I say. “And a wife is obedient to her husband.”
She flushes. Her bruises and scrapes are already healing. She has a quick rebound. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. “Don’t,” she says softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m some child. You keep doing these things, making these decisions without me, making moves without me, taking risks without me—don’t you understand, Aleks? I’m in this now. All the way. This isn’t just some enemy of yours, hunting you. Konstantin is after me.” Her eyes flash, and not for the first time, I get a glimpse of the more dangerous woman that lives and breathes inside of her. “He’s after my son. He is my enemy now as much as he is yours.”
I can’t begrudge her that. But, I also will not stand aside and let her make the decisions she thinks are right. I know this girl. She is a rebel and a fighter, but she puts the value of her life beneath her family’s, and good on her for doing so. She has honor. But honor certainly won’t keep her alive.
“Look at me,” she says, her voice soft, but firm. I do, and her gaze is fierce. “I am willing to make this work, Aleks. I…” Her flush deepens and her eyes dart away from mine, and I get the sense she is meaning to tell me something, but she’s swallowing the words. Perhaps on my part, it’s just wishful thinking. “I care about you. And I could do this. I could be your wife. I…Iwantto be your wife.”
Slowly, she takes a step forward, erasing the space between us. My body answers immediately, like a switch is flipped. I heat and harden, feel my blood awaken and begin to pulse fast through my veins. She lays her hands on my chest and gazes up at me, a furrow between her brows. And I sense how earnest she is. How much she means what she says.
“But I need you to give, too,” she insists. “I need freedom. I need autonomy. And I need you to trust me. I’ve taken care of myself, haven’t I?”
I say nothing, despite this being true. More confidence in her ability will only make her foolhardy.But she does look so beautiful when she has a fight in her face, when she’s proud of herself, and fierce.Simply, she is beautiful; how did I ever hide from it, or deny it? How did I ever walk away from this woman?
“I want to go with you, when you go after him,” she says, and there’s almost the sound of a command to her voice. “I want to kill him myself.”
