And I hated him for still being alive when Breaker was dead.
I gripped the dagger in my right hand until my fingers went numb, and I stayed that way despite Sancto trying to get me out of bed or trying to get me to eat.
I lay there and waited for my vengeance.
I would kill Valerian Petrov.
This had started with him.
And it would end with me.
A single tear ran down my cheek as footsteps neared. The door opened, and then he was there.
I could feel him, but it wasn’t my Breaker. It was Valerian, a man who spoke English with a Russian accent, spoke the Russian language fluently, lived in a castle on the water, and had his own throne, his own people to rule.
I just wanted to go home.
But I couldn’t, not if I was still married to him.
So, I would eliminate him.
It would be my first kill.
I would be made after this.
Bloodlust filled my line of vision as the floorboards creaked. He moved over to my side of the bed and sat. “You should eat.”
“Déjà vu,” I whispered, and then I jerked the knife out from under the pillow aiming for his chest.
The knife missed his heart and embedded a half-inch into his right pectoral.
He stumbled back, his eyes cold as he slowly jerked the knife out of his skin and threw it to the floor. I dove for it, missing it when he shoved me out of the way.
“Violet.” He held up his hands while I kept charging toward him.
With a scream, I aimed for him. Even though I no longer had a weapon, I had my fists. Let him feel what it was like to bleed from the inside out, to burn and feel the flames lick your wounds until you were paralyzed with agony so unimaginable it hurt to breathe.
“Stop.”
“This is all your fault!” I screamed. “At the club, he could have saved me, I know he could have! Instead, you saved me when I didn’t want to be saved! I would rather have been fucked by a complete stranger than be tied to you!”
He flinched, but I couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop trying to attack him. It was like someone else was controlling my body.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Violet.” His eyes narrowed. “But if a fight’s what you want…” He rolled up his shirtsleeves like it was normal for his wife to pull a knife on him, and then he picked it up and handed it back to me. “Have at me.”
“You don’t even have a weapon,” I hissed.
He smiled that perfect smile that reminded me of Breaker, at least the parts I could see. “I don’t need a weapon.”
“Don’t insult me,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Fight me.” He crooked his fingers at me. “I dare you.”
So, I charged again.
This time he hit the knife out of my hand before I could get close enough, and then he was dodging each punch and kick, protecting himself, but refusing to hit me.
Why did I want to be hit?
To feel the pain?
I’d never been that person.
I always watched in the background while Serena lost her mind when Junior or my brother taunted her.
I knew how to fight, but I’d never needed to—because I’d had him, Breaker, my own personal weapon.
Now I had nothing.
I was naked without him.
Defenseless.
Pain that was somehow both searing and icy surged, filling the Breaker-sized void in my soul.
Swirling black mists of emptiness.
He left me.
“Fight me back!” I yelled, landing a punch to his solar plexus.
His nostrils flared. “You want pain, or do you want pleasure? Either way, you will learn your lesson. Nobody pulls a knife on me in my own home, not even my grief-stricken wife.”
“Stop calling me your wife.” I went to kick with my right leg. He grabbed it and then threw my body onto the ground, stealing my breath completely from my lungs as I gasped for air.
“Pleasure or pain?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
I squirmed beneath him. “Get any closer, and I’m biting your ear off.”
He laughed. The bastard laughed like he was entertained! “You’re more than welcome to try.”
And then he pinned my arms above my head. “Hmmm, this might be difficult with a mask on…”
“Take it off, and I’m closing my eyes.” I squeezed them shut.
I didn’t want to see his face.
I didn’t want to see how human he was.
Right now, he was a faceless man who had tricked me.
A man in a mask who’d married me under the cover of night.
If he took off the mask, it would be real.
All of this.
“It’s off,” he whispered.
The clunk of it landing and the hiss as it slid across the floor attested to the truth of his words.
“So, if you’re still afraid to stare at your future head-on, by all means, keep your eyes closed…”
I kicked under him.