Page 121 of Cain

His lips twitch again, just barely this time. “Would you?”

An unbearable weight settles on my chest.

I don’t know the answer to his question. The thought of him gone leaves me hollow, but I refuse to say it. I refuse to give him that power.

So, I lift my chin. “Yes.”

His grip tightens, just for a second, as if my answer affects him. Then, with an exhale, he releases me, sinking back into the water.

“You’re lying.”

I should end this conversation before he picks me apart any further. But my feet stay planted.

“You think survival is the same as living.” He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “Tell me something, Katerina … when was the last time you felt alive without me?”

I hate that I don’t have an answer again. I hate that he knows it.

“You care about me,” he continues with a smile.

What?I’m not replying to that comment.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“Doing what?”

“The sinking.”

He’s silent for a moment, his fingers tapping slowly against the edge of the tub.

“Because I’m not afraid of it,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I’m trying to make it real. To prove to myself I can survive it. That I can survive anything.”

The way he talks about it … like drowning isn’t just a fear. It’s a choice he makes.

“My brother tried to drown me once,” he murmurs. I’ve never heard him speak about it like this. “He thought I’d die. That I’d drown and disappear. But I didn’t. I survived.”

His eyes lock on to mine. “I want to feel what that’s like, over and over. The fear … the power of knowing I can overcome it.”

My breath catches, and my chest tightens. There’s something broken in him, something that calls to the darkness inside me.

It scares me, too. It terrifies me how easily he plays with death. How little he seems to care whether he lives or dies, as long as he can control it.

I want to scream at him, to tell him he’s insane, but I feel weak to do so.

“You think that makes you alive?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

He doesn’t flinch. His gaze darkens, and his voice drops lower. “What else is life if not testing the limits? Testing yourself? I have to feel it. The fear, the pain. That way, it might go away eventually.”

I swallow hard. His hand slowly slips beneath the water. He isn’t afraid of it anymore. He’s afraid of not feeling it, of not living it.

I hate him for it. I hate him for making me understand, for forcing me to see the truth of his existence.

“You’re so broken. They fucked you up as well,” I whisper.

He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. His eyes remain steady. “I’m not broken.” He tilts hishead just slightly, studying me like I’m the one who doesn’t understand. “I’m alive.”

I take a step closer and kneel, my hands on the edge of the tub.

“I am sorry, Cain,” I mutter, my lashes flickering. “No one deserves this.”