Page 13 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

Her tongue peeks between pressed lips and she nods once, taking my silence as the response. “Exactly.”

“Do you blame me?” I blame me, because I was bred from the monster who called the shots on this. I let darkness from the city’s underworld into Katya’s peaceful life. But I ask because I have to know what level of self-hatred I will be wallowing in after this.

She shakes her head, brows dipping like my question is the stupidest thing ever. “Never. You didn’t want that either. It was an unfortunate consequence of our relationship. Your father is very determined.”

Determined. Consequence. Does she hear herself right now? The more she talks, the more her tone loses life. She’s waning before my very eyes, and I don’t know how to help her.

“It’s your world, but I think this has shown me it isn’t a place for me. And I’d never ask you to leave it behind.”

This hurts.

So. Fucking. Much.

If I could, I’d leave it all behind. My family, friends, my Pakhan—everything.

I’d run as far as I could, to the ends of the earth.

End my life as a criminal and turn away from the Bratva, which is traitorous to even consider.

My Pakhan would have my head, if only to reach into my decaying brain and retrieve these thoughts himself.

Doing so, offering that future… It isn’t a life for her or me.

It’s a death sentence. The Bratva’s reach is far, and they’d track me no matter how well I hid our tracks.

They’d go after her family, friends, anyone she’s ever interacted with.

We’d be on the run, constantly looking over our shoulders.

She’d be in more danger than ever, much more than any time during our relationship.

If only I never met her, then none of this would have happened.

And you’d be half a man.

“I want to,” I admit, my strained voice a mere whisper. “God, yebat ”— fuck —“I want to take you away from all this, Katya. Abandon the Bratva and make you my entire world.”

“You can’t,” she finishes with a downturned, accepting expression. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ You’re sorry? Moya dusha , what you endured… sorry will never cut it. No word will be enough to explain how fucking apologetic I am.”

Staring at the ground, she murmurs, “I’ve spent the past few days going back and forth between what’s next.”

My fractured heart, crushed on the ground between us, stutters to life for a second, but not for any good reason. No, concern gives it the energy to beat one more time, suspecting what she’s about to say.

She stares over my shoulder, her own bowing in with her next words.

“I love you, Dimitri, more than anything, and you need to know this wasn’t an easy decision.

I’ve gone back and forth so much I’ve actually thrown up.

When we leave Russia…” Her lips form a small O with her intake of breath. “This has to be it for you and me.”

She said it.

She fucking said it. The words I feared upon seeing the realtor’s sign. The words I felt she would the moment she mentioned moving. The words that would take me to my knees if not for her house physically keeping me upright.

“I’ll travel to you. I don’t care how far.” I sound pathetic, but isn’t that what love is?

She winces. “It’s more than the distance. It’s…everything.” She sucks on the inside of her cheek, her hesitation more agonizing than just admitting her thoughts.

“Tell me.” It can’t be worse than everything else, and not knowing will kill me.

“I need to heal, Dimitri, and seeing you, through no fault of your own, brings it all back, because it was your father who did this. I’m struggling with that fact.

How can I date someone whose father hates me so much he would rather see me raped?

And please…don’t see this as blame. It’s probably coming out all wrong.

” She shakes her head, fists coming up to press into her temples.

I reach for her out of instinct, only to pull back at the last second, aware my actions will ruin rather than heal.

A gutting fact.

“It’s okay.” It’s not okay. None of this is okay, but I understand what she’s attempting to get out. I am not to blame, but my father is, and her traumatized state isn’t able to separate us.

I’ll kill him for this.

She sighs, slowly lowering her fists. “Before grad, I was set on the path I wanted to be on. School, you, and eventually a job as a teacher, but now… Now every time I close my eyes, they’re all I see.

That night haunts me so badly, and I don’t know if I can be the person I wanted to be.

And I need to figure that out because if I don’t, if I succumb to the memories, they win.

They already destroyed me in one way; they can’t decide the rest of my life. ”

“And you can’t do that here.” It’s a question and a statement all rolled into one, but her head shake answers it regardless.

“I don’t think so. Not while knowing the man who orchestrated it lives across town, and the four others are skulking around somewhere.

When I drive by the school and get hit with the memories of what should have been a happy day, but became a horror show instead.

When I pass the hospital, only to be reminded of my stay and why.

” She pauses, flicking her eyes to the doorframe, where my hands are curled so tightly, I’m shocked the wood hasn’t cracked.

“Even this house. When I left it the other day, I didn’t expect to come back so…

so changed . Somehow, that has erased almost two decades of happy memories.

Trauma, I suppose. They made me talk to a psychologist there, and she warned me of this.

” She huffs, peering up at me. “Did anyone speak to you?”

“Why would they?”

“Because you went through hell too, Dimitri. Seeing something like that—regardless of it being me or another person—it sticks with you.”

I won’t lie, because yeah, her frightened face haunts me, but it’s not trauma. Not like she’s living through.

Thankfully, she moves on. “I don’t know how long this will take, but I don’t think being in the same city it happened in is smart. I need to start fresh—new house, new city, a place where my trauma is all in my head rather than having physical manifestations around me.”

Fuck. I get it. I do, but I don’t like it.

Katya’s slipping through my grasp, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like trying to hold on to a stream of water. No matter how hard I clench, the water simply wets my skin. Nothing remains in my grip, forever getting away.

“You need this too, Dimitri, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

Need you to leave me? Not remotely close.

“Need what?”

“Space. Time. You need to make sense of everything. Don’t hold it in.”

Hunting those who harmed her will be my therapy. No other kind needed.

I don’t reply, not with the words she’ll want to hear, anyway.

“And then there’s us.” She sighs. “If my first instinct is to run away, what kind of Bratva wife would I be to you in the future? You need someone strong. Someone your father will prefer for you. That isn’t me.

For years, I’ve convinced myself it’d be fine, but this has shown our two worlds should never have collided, and what happens when they do. ”

My fingers press harder into the doorframe, disbelieving the conversation has come here , keeping me silent until my thoughts formulate something semi-comprehensive.

“Katya, you have no fuckin’ idea how strong you are.

What you survived—you’re a survivor.” Good use of words, pridurok .

“You’re perfect as you are, memories and all.

We ”—I emphasize the word since she insists on dragging me into this time and time again—“survived. Why would I want another woman when you’re the one I went through that with? Fuck Papa. You’re who matters.”

She flinches, and I realize my words didn’t have the intended effect. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we’re destined to be linked through memories, and guilt will always keep us together.”

My fucking god, I’m going to kill them. Papa. All of them. They did this. They took her from me.

I reach for her again, only to drop my hand just shy of touching her. “He’ll pay. They all will. I will hunt every single one down and make them sorry for what they did. When they’re all decaying in a landfill, then I’ll take out my father. That’s a fucking promise I’ll live and die by if I must.”

Her lips quirk on one side, and the sight has my crushed heart soaring off the ground. “Don’t die for revenge. Live, Dimitri.”

That’s something I won’t be able to agree to. I’ll happily die for her if it means she’ll have a better life.

“Only if you live for me, moya dusha .” It’s the closest I can come to agreeing to her terms.

For a beat, she’s silent, her throat moving with her swallow as she stares at something behind my shoulder. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Always.”

I’ll always save her. She might be choosing to leave me, but I’m not leaving her. Nothing in this world will take me away from her—not completely. It’s what I decide at that moment, no matter her choices.

“Tell me one thing,” I demand.

Wariness flits over her expression. She licks her bottom lip before asking, “What’s that?”

“Where in Canada will you be?” Where can I find you?

Katya smiles sadly, her shoulders lowering with a sigh. “Please understand why I’m not telling you.”

I do, but don’t want to.

“Why there?”

“For a long time, I’ve wanted to live in Canada. When it came time to apply for schools, I chose local universities instead, to remain close.”

Because of you , are her unspoken words.

“When are you leaving?” How much longer do I have with you?

“When the house sells. Between now and August, I guess. Before classes begin. I got a last-minute acceptance into one of the schools there. I owe it to myself to try and move past recent events. To be the person I was meant to be. To determine if my old dreams are what I may still want.”

I’m asshole enough that the idea of paying off any potential buyer, just to prevent a sale, is so damn tempting. It’d hurt her in the long run, though, so I won’t.

It’s the first week of July. The remainder of June disappeared between the hospital and the days Katya holed up inside. Which means two full months until she’s gone, if not sooner.

I reclaim my grip on the doorframe, holding tight enough I’m satisfied I won’t reach for her again. Wearied eyes flick there when the wood lets out a cracking noise.

I’m close enough now, I only have to duck to kiss her. She could easily back away. We both know this, but she remains motionless. I’m stupid enough to think her slight sway is her leaning towards me. Stupid, or hopeful.

“Will I see you again?” Is this it? Am I being cut off like an addict pleading for his next fix? It’s cruel, but Katya’s in self-preservation mode.

Water lines her eyes, only this time, a stream drips down her cheeks, and I have my answer. For Katya, ending it now is easier than prolonging the pain. Safer to stay away from me, which is what she should have done from the beginning.

I force myself straight, force my grip to release the wood, and back up, nodding as I go. Telling her silently, I accept her choice. When I reach the top step of her porch, I do the impossible.

I turn my back on her and walk away.

I make it to the bottom step before she quietly calls after me, my name in the wind, but I respond, eager for every last scrap from her.

Katya followed me, standing on the edge of the top step. Her expression is resolute, unyielding in her decision, but her cheeks are flushed red, eyes streaming with tears.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t look for me, Dimitri. Forget about me.”

Anything…except that. She’s already ripped out my heart; now she’s asking me to destroy my soul as well?

That’s like asking Earth to forget to rotate. To ask the d’yavol to forget about carrying souls to Ad. To ask flowers to forget to bloom in spring.

“It’s impossible to forget one’s soulmate, Katya, but I promise to not search for you. You’ll never hear from me again, if that’s what you want. I hope you find everything you want in life, moya dusha, and that you’re safe. Always.”

Her hand drops to her wrist, and she fingers the green ribbon she hasn’t taken off since the day I tied it to her wrist.

The sight of it—or heartbreak, maybe even stupidity—compels me, and I stride back to her, reaching before she can flinch, taking her wrist in my hand.

Her skin is unbelievably warm with life, and I’m happy for her because I’m numb with the chill of death.

Her warmth brings me back to life for a moment.

Long enough to reach for the knot in the ribbon and manage to undo it.

“Since you’re keeping my heart, I’m keeping this. It’s only fair.”

It’s the only part of her I’ll get to keep, after all. Unlike my heart, though, this I’ll never let go.

With the ribbon clenched in my grip, I stride down the path, every step feeling like bricks are strapped to my feet. I’m passing the For Sale sign when the door behind me shuts.

And like that, I’ve lost the only thing I ever truly cared about.