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Grabbing me by the waist, he hoisted me up into the air and threw me onto the bed.
"And if there'd been one still in the chamber?" He climbed on top of me.
"I'd have killed your pretty little ass now, wouldn't I?" Of course there was no bullet in the chamber; Rook had fired it. But the fury was still there inside me, clawing at my chest and insides, needing to get out. "I'd have laughed as I watched your head explode." I tilted my head to the side, going straight for the throat. "Just like I'm sure you did, when you killed my parents."
His face shuttered, closing off all emotion. "You want to talk about your parents? The people who sold you for sex and got you hooked on heroin?"
"At least they were there for me when you were gone! I had no one else, Knight."
"You were just a kid!" he roared to life, his hand tight on my shoulders, his eyes wild and manic. Gone was the lack of emotion –– it poured out of him in waves. "They fucking sold you, all so they could have a bigger fix."
"They were sick, Knight. They needed compassion."
"They used you before they ever started those drugs."
"At least they took care of me. At least I had a roof over my head, food to eat. So many girls had to turn tricks on the streets. But my dad worked hard, rising up in the ranks for Abuelo to keep us safe.”
"I did that!"
"What are you talking about," I dismissed him. "You had nothing to do with my parents’ money."
"Not true, Tatiana." His voice was suddenly serious, and I knew that he was telling me the truth.
My world stilled, my heart in my throat. "What?" My voice, a hoarse whisper, and I hated it. Hated how weak I became when I was with Knight.
His hold on me softened, and he pulled back, climbing off me to lean against the back wall. "I did that, Tati." He rubbed his hand over his face, suddenly looking very tired.
"You did what, Knight?"
He didn't answer, but stared at the bed. I noticed the darkness in his gaze, the regret in his eyes. I moved to settle next to him and we both sat like that in silence, staring out over the room.
It was chilling, how alike it was to my bedroom in Cuba. With the mint green walls and the checkered floor, all that was missing was the window where Knight used to sneak in.
"Remember how you used to climb into my room while I was sleeping?" I said. "You would slide into bed and hold me until morning."
Eyes still on the orange flowered bed cover, he half smiled. "Your bed was right across from the window. The way the moonlight lit up your face, you looked like an angel.Myangel."
"I have to admit something to you." I fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket. "I was never asleep; I was always waiting for you."
He wrapped an arm around my neck, tucking me into his side. "I know."
I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. It reminded me of the salty ocean. Of home. Of safety and security.
Of a space where I actually belonged, in a world where I didn't belong anywhere else, except as a pounding mat for some man's sick tastes.
"Please, Knight. Tell me the truth. I think I deserve it."
"You do." He kissed the top of my head thoughtfully. "Even if it's painful."
He was silent and I waited with bated breath for the guillotine's blade to fall.
"Your father was a shit worker. It wasn’t a big deal, many of Abuelo's workers were like that. They expected to do little and get paid a lot." He sighed heavily, rubbing his chin across the top of my head. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to soothe me or himself. "If I hadn't intervened, your family would've been on the streets."
I pulled back to look into his eyes, my heart in my throat. "All the promotions he got?"
"I made a deal with my abuelo." His throat bobbed. "The money your father so called earned, it came from my bank account."
I blinked.