Page 44 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

Fuck.

She smells like me.

My soap. My shower. My goddamn bed. The only thing that’d make it better is if she’d allow me to replace Vanessa’s clothing with my own. Maybe then— maybe —the possessive asshole buried inside me might be satisfied enough.

Beneath my soap, her citrus scent lingers, and it fills the small car I’ve chosen for the trip, meaning I’m borderline in pain with fucking desire. My body is taut, thrumming with need.

This trip feels never-ending because I’m so damn attuned to her.

Every time she shifts, she gains my attention.

Every little sigh has me dying to know what’s in her head.

Every breath has me counting the seconds until her next one, if only for something to distract myself with before I pull over, bend her over the hood of the car, and remind her exactly who I am and why she’ll never leave me again.

The past three hours have been spent in complete silence. I anticipate at some point she’ll ask to pull over for the bathroom, food, or to stretch her legs, but she remains pinned to the passenger door like it’ll be her saviour.

The silence feels endless, and I long to break it. Despite stalking her all these years, I don’t know everything about her. Not her thoughts, her fears, her hopes, or her plans—anything not tangible, but I want to know more than my lungs need oxygen.

After another few minutes of driving, I can’t handle it anymore. I’m too tightly wound, about to snap, so I break the silence.

“You switched your major from education to counselling.”

She stiffens, her hands forming fists on her lap, and somehow finds a way to lean farther away—from me, from the silence I’ve shattered, reminding her precisely where she is. “It felt right.”

“Suits you. You were always compassionate enough for what that career requires.”

Compassion is what made you fall for a criminal.

She doesn’t reply, twisting her body ever so slightly even farther away, forcing me to bite down on a sigh.

“How are your parents?” I choose another topic off the list I’ve been mentally constructing.

“Fine.”

Is this really better than silence?

“Do you need to stop or anything?”

“I’m fine.”

This time, I resist asking another question.

Another hour passes, but now she’s shifting, crossing and uncrossing her legs. After the third instance, I pull off at the next stop we come to without bothering to ask. I drive into the gas station, even though the car isn’t demanding a refueling, but feign it being the reason for the stop.

I climb out to pump the gas, gesturing to the building. “Use the bathroom. Stretch your legs.” I toss her a credit card. “Get whatever snacks you want.” I turn away, leaving her with the decision to deny me, and thus herself, or to go.

She goes with a ghost of a smile, her steps quickening. I don’t have to worry about her running, considering we’re hours away from the nearest town, but I wonder if she’ll be stupid enough to try to get the gas station attendant on her side.

By the time I’ve topped up the tank, she’s back, her arms filled with two drinks and a couple bags of chips that she drops into the console between us.

“I…uh, figured you’d be hungry too.”

She immediately turns away, hiding the red I spot staining her cheeks while I take in precisely what she’s chosen. My favourite flavour of chips, suggesting she remembers more than she’d care to admit.

“Thanks,” I reply, hiding the fact she may have only picked out a snack, but she’s actually just given me the world.

She can’t hate me as much as she’s letting on.

She can’t , because I feel it deep within my soul, within the half of my heart she’s long claimed as her own.

She wouldn’t have fallen asleep on me last night if she truly felt I was dangerous.

Her hand wouldn’t have fisted my shirt as though I had the tiniest notion to leave her.

If anything, I was the one terrified she’d bolt, that her head would return to the past and she’d experience another nightmare.

It’s why we’re driving to the prison my father is locked up in. To help end these nightmares.

She still needs to heal? I’ll be the one to do that this time.

Hours later, we arrive at the one place I never thought I’d allow Katya to even breathe near.

But it’s the place I need her to see, to help her nightmares, to make her realize it’s all over. That no one would dare taunt death by coming after her again. She’s the most protected woman in the world right now because I’ll target anyone who attempts going near her, the reaper fucking included.

As we neared the prison and the roads turned snowy, I hiked the car’s heat and retrieved the coat I borrowed from Vanessa’s closet from the backseat. I wait for her to put it on before we endure the blustering snow and harsh winds for the couple steps from the vehicle to the metal entrance.

She casts a wide-eyed stare at me, finally the one to initiate talking. “Where are we?”

“Prison,” I answer once we’re through the door and in warmth. At least, warmer than outside.

“Prison?” Her confused gaze bounces around the musty area, pausing on the guard standing by the door between us and the Bratva’s section, the hefty rifle held by his side. “Why are we here?”

“Call it therapy.” I link my hand with hers, half surprised she doesn’t yank away, and lead her down the stone corridor through the many, many hallways until reaching the surveillance room. We’ll start here so I can gauge her reaction.

I nod to the man stationed by the monitors, having already been instructed by the warden to lend us the room. Before he goes, he clicks a few things on one of the computers, and the screen fills with the feed of my father’s cell.

He’s lying on his back in the centre of the cell. Every once in a while, he shifts, telling me he’s still alive. After I finished with him for good, the worst of his injuries were bandaged up. After a week in this place, his skin is already paler, his body thinning.

Katya comes up beside me, staring at the monitor, and her pouty lips part with shock. “Y-your father?”

“Da.”

“He’s alive.” She glances at me, but I can’t decipher if she’s upset by it or not.

“This is the better option, because life here isn’t like a regular jail cell.

Eventually, when I tire of him breathing, I’ll end his sorry life.

” Grabbing her arms, I twist her around until her back faces the monitor and her attention is mine.

I step between her parted legs and tilt her face up with the tip of a finger.

“I brought you here so you can see for yourself it’s over.

It won’t make the nightmares go away—I’m aware trauma doesn’t work like that—but please see he’ll never hurt you again. ”

The skin between her eyes wrinkles, and she shakes her head, whispering, “It’s not.

They’re still out there. They’re the ones I see in my mind all the time.

The ones I feel—” She stops, her lips pressing together with the admittance I cling to; because I never knew .

Couldn’t ever be there for her the way she deserved.

“They’re gone, Katya. All fucking gone.” From my pocket, I pull out the list of names and hand it to her.

She’s the only other person to ever touch it.

For years, it’s been hidden in my pockets, keeping the secret of what happened that night to only her and I, so like the list’s secondary owner, it’s right she’s the only one to ever read it.

After a slight hesitation, she unfolds the scraggly paper, the edges worn down from wear and font smudged from years of being exposed to the elements. Bloodstains are dotted around each name as I crossed them off after ridding the world of their souls.

She reads each one, and once at the bottom, her eyes flick back to the top and she reads it all over. Twice, she does this, the paper crumpling in her tight grip as she begins shaking with realization.

Ten years ago, I battled my inner demons between wanting to keep her good and pure and wanting to drag her into the underground alongside me. To make her a princess I can guard or a warrior alongside me.

She chose for us, and it’s believing in that warrior strength, I pull out my phone and find the pictures of every kill, revealing the bloodshed, gore, and pain each experienced before being granted death.

I watch her face as she takes in the first kill before swiping to the next, repeating until we’ve gone through all of them.

“They’re all gone,” she whispers, so low I barely hear her. “You did it, like you said you would that day on my porch.”

“All of them. I got the first within months of you leaving. The second figured out they were being hunted and nearly escaped the country, but I caught him on the anniversary of the event. Found the third living in Romania by the fourth year, and months later, the fifth in Australia. By then, he realized the entire group was being hunted and hid far away.”

Her eyes are locked on my phone, but they’re empty, staring through the device rather than at it. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. After only a moment, I slide the phone away and grasp her face, tilting her head back up to look at me.

“What’s in your head, moya dusha ?”

“This whole time, I thought—assumed…” Tears line the edges of her eyes, her mouth slipping open again. “Dimitri…you—” She gives a rough shake of her head before her final whisper. “T-they’re gone. This whole time, you’ve…”

“Been hunting them, like I promised I would,” I finish, my hold tightening around her face.

“Katya, everything I’ve ever done has been for you.

From the minute they kidnapped us, my sole mission has been to end them.

I promised it then, and it’s a vow I’ve kept.

When they touched you, hurt you, made you shed a single fucking tear that I was prevented from wiping, they signed their death warrants.

There could be no life for them after that, only pain. ”