I think about his hands on her. Him forcing her. She’s not even half his size.
That same fire that coursed through my veins the night I sat opposite Ivan Petrov in that cellar burns through me now. It makes my heart beat faster, dulls the sounds around me as it pumps hard and fast in my ears.
From the holster on my belt, I take out my dagger. Feel the cool weight of it in my palm. I step closer.
The crowd cheers, Viktor with them as the dog he’s obviously bet on injures the champion. Well, the soon-to-be ex-champion. Matthaeus glances around, gives a nod. No soldiers have come forward apart from the one standing closest to him but just as I get close enough that I can almost touch Viktor, that soldier turns his head, and our eyes meet.
We remain like that for a moment.
Now is his opportunity. Now is the time to pull Viktor away. Protect him. It’s his job. And I think about what I’ll do if that happens. I think about my promise to Mara that I’d come back to her.
I won’t leave here without killing Viktor Petrov no matter the cost.
I can’t.
Even if it means breaking my promise to her.
I tighten my grip on the dagger’s hilt, feel every curve of the design.
The soldier’s eyes narrow and he turns away.
Neither Matthaeus nor I move as we wait to see if he’s calling men over. More soldiers. But he doesn’t. He just sips from his cup and keeps his back turned.
And I advance. Taking the two steps that will bring me to within stabbing distance of one of Mara’s rapist.
I don’t hesitate. And I don’t bother to look him in the eye. He’s not worth that. I just push my knife into his kidney, twist and tug it free, then repeat on the other kidney.
His body stiffens. There’s a gurgling sound, then comes the stumble backward, his head turning, the remains of the idiotic grin on his face. Like his brain hasn’t quite processed what just happened. Like his body has yet to register the pain. The meaning of it.
I catch him, keep him upright. Because I want him to know it’s me, the man who killed his father come back for him. I want him to know that Mara is being avenged. Slowly but surely.
He turns just enough to see a glimpse of me, the eyepatch side of my face. His eyes grow huge. Good. He recognizes me.
I give him a wide grin as the cup drops from his hand. I hold him to me to push the bloody blade into his stomach. Not as soft as his father’s but with just a little nudge, I manage. And, like I did with his father, I tug upward.
A choked sound escapes his lips, and his eyes roll back. Blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth. He’s dead.
And every time I think I will feel some satisfaction. With each kill I think I’ll feel a little better. But no wrongs are righted. No damage undone. I could massacre every soldier who ever had a hand in her captivity, and it wouldn’t matter. Because she still lost fifteen years of her life. And she’ll be lucky if it’s only the fifteen. If she can make a life at all.
With a grunt I push Viktor off, turning to walk away as I holster the bloody dagger. Matthaeus is at my side and we’re out of the crowd before the first scream comes. A man’s scream. No one stops us as we walk back to the entrance, to the front doors of the place. Even the soldiers standing guard outside only nod, one making the comment that it’s a short night for us.
I don’t bother to respond. We get back to the SUV and I climb into the passenger seat, pick up the bottle of whiskey on the floor.
Fuck. I need a drink. Need to wash my hands. Viktor’s blood feels too sticky and I have a sick feeling in my gut at the thought of her at that man’s mercy.
I need to get back to the house. Back to her. Need to see her. Touch her. Feel her beneath me. Hold her. Take her. Banish all the memories of those years from her mind.
And I need her to do the same for me. To forgive me for leaving her on her own for so long. Forgive me for living my life while she was out there in the hands of monsters like this.
Forgive me for ever letting any of this happen to her.
36
Mara
I lie awake watching the hands of the clock tick through the minutes. It’s late. He should have been back by now. Should have been back hours ago.
But then I hear it. The sound of tires crunching rocks beneath. I push the blanket off and hurry to the window. My room is beside the master, directly over the front entrance. I wanted to be in his room. I thought I would be. But the man who seemed to be in charge told me this was mine. Noah’s, at least, is across the hall.