AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her breath stutters for a moment, before she regains control. “I swear to fucking God, if you?—”
I don’t wait for her opinion on the matter before delivering another slap. This one is hard enough that her flesh jiggles with the contact, leaving her skin the prettiest shade of crimson. She makes a noise that sounds like a whimper of need.
“I should have done this a long time ago,” I growl. “And I’m not going to stop until you confess.” I want the truth from her, but in this moment, I want her submission more.
The vixen doesn’t argue with me. Instead, she subtly arches her back, her body begging for my touch. I can hear it in her uneven breaths, and see it in the way she clenches her jaw and waits for my touch.
Shit, so much for spanking a confession out of her. She likes it too much. As do I. My cock is harder than it’s ever been, but I won’t let it distract me from what I need to do.
“Suit yourself,” I say between clenched teeth.
This time, I brace one hand in the center of her back, and I let her have it. I’ll extract a confession from her one way or another, whether through pain or pleasure. The sound of my hand slapping flesh reverberates in the small space between the buildings. She releases an audible gasp and turns her head, shooting me a look that suggests she’s far from reaching her breaking point. So, I go harder. I spank both cheeks until her skin is bright red and adorned with my handprints.
Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as I lean in and whisper into her hair, “You brought this on yourself.” How much more can she take until she breaks? I guess I’m about to find out.
A laugh spills from her throat, dark and bitter. “Spank me all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you are a monster. What kind of psychopath marries the person whose life you ripped apart?!”
Confusion churns in my gut. I spin her around so she’s facing me and haul her leggings up over her ass. I don't know what she means, but there's an ominous undercurrent in her words.
“You want to know what this is all about? Fine!” Her lips tremble, her eyes brimming with tears. “You helped my father kill Masha! Led her to her horrible death like an animal brought to slaughter.”
Her accusation lands like a punch to the stomach, disbelief coiling tightly within me.
She thinks I had something to do with killing Masha?
Before I have time to absorb the accusation, she strikes me, her small fists pounding against my chest. I can feel the weight of her anger and sorrow. It's a storm that needs unleashing, and even though I’m not the person she accuses me of being, I do theonly thing I can to lessen the weight of her grief—I stand firm as she vents her fury. She wants to use me as a punching bag? I’ll be that for her.
Kira keeps hitting me, her strikes fueled by tumultuous emotions. It’s an ugly combination that I know all too well. That pain burrows under your skin and eats at your very soul unless you have an outlet.
Only when she’s spent and exhausted, and her tears have slowed to a trickle, do I cage her against the wall and force her eyes to meet mine with a finger under her chin.
“I don’t know where the fuck that accusation comes from, but let me be clear. If I have a reason to kill someone, I do it without a second thought. And trust me, I don’t shy away from my sins.” Kira's eyes narrow with suspicion. “I. Didn’t. Kill. Masha.”
“Of course you’d say that! Of course you’d deny it. But the night of Alyona’s ball, Boris Ivanov told me everything. It’s what people have been saying behind your back for years, and he was the only one who had the guts to say it to my face.” She takes a deep, heaving breath. “It makes sense. You owed my father for bringing you into the bratva.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You're delusional if you think I owed your father anything. And Boris Ivanov is not a reliable source of information." I can't contain the laughter that spills from my lips until something even more absurd occurs to me. "Is this why you married me?"
“Yes,” she hisses. “So I could kill you with my bare hands.”
Amusement flickers to life. She's gutsy, even if she's off the mark. “Go ahead.” I hold my arms open wide. “Get your revenge.”
Fire courses through my veins. I’ve had enough of this bullshit, and we're ending it here and now.
Her lower lip trembles. “You’re a snake,” she shoots back but says nothing else.
“Do you believe I’m her killer?”
A flicker of doubt passes over her features. My shoulders lower a notch as she grapples with the truth. “You had a meeting scheduled with her days before someone convinced her to come out of hiding.”
The memory slowly comes back to me. “I did have a meeting scheduled with Masha, about donating to one of her charities, but it never happened. I have documentation to prove it.” Her red-rimmed eyes dart towards me, the fiery accusation replaced with a shadow of something else. Acceptance. “Look at me, lastochka. Look at me.” Her gaze meets mine, and she nods slowly. “I’m sorry this is not what you want to hear, but it wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with Masha’s death.”
She shakes her head and covers her hand with her mouth. A strangled sob escapes her. “She didn’t deserve it … didn’t deserve what they did to her. It was all because of me.”
Her knees buckle, but before she goes down, I swoop in and cradle her to my chest. She may still hate me, but I’m not letting her be swallowed by the abyss of guilt.
I want to tell her it's not her fault. Her aunt Masha was a big girl and made her own choices. But I know firsthand that hearing “there’s nothing you could have done” only feels worse.
I study her face, tracing the soft curve of her jawline with my eyes. Every instinct in me screams to protect her, to shield her from this world, but it’s too late for that. The scars are already etched deep into her soul, as they are in mine.
