Page 69 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

Dimitri isn’t back by nighttime, so I climb into bed alone, slipping beneath sheets that probably cost as much as a course’s tuition charge. At the very least, the high-priced textbooks that have no need to be so expensive.

At some point after I pass out, his arms come around my body. His skin is cool, and his hair drips water onto my bare shoulder. Whatever job he completed must have involved getting dirty, maybe even bloody, and presumably, he’s come from the shower.

“Hey.” He kisses my shoulder, pulling me tight against him. “Sorry for waking you, but it struck me how fuckin’ happy I am to have you here.”

It’s the first job he’s gone on since my return. How many nights did he crawl into this large bed alone, the sheets cool and empty, after a job completed?

“I’m glad. Everything go okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums into my skin. “We’ll talk tomorrow because there’s something I’ll need to show you. For now, back to sleep.”

At his command, sleep steals me away, his arm holding me to him tightly; where I vow to be the rest of our lives.

Since climbing into the car, Dimitri hasn’t said shit about where we’re going.

He spoke very little during the drive from the mansion, out of Moscow, and down a single-lane highway for a while until we were encased by forestry.

Occasionally, his fingers drum along the steering wheel and he’ll readjust his position, giving the slightest indication he’s nervous.

Which means, I should probably be as well.

Eventually, he turns onto a skinny road—though road isn’t the best term for the rocky terrain that makes my teeth feel like they’ll vibrate from my skull.

In the distance, a run-down building comes into view. Its windows are either stained or cracked, and the bush around is overgrown from lack of care. There’s something eerily familiar about it.

And then, it hits me.

“About two years ago, I finally decided to retrace our steps, starting at the hospital and taking the same road from Moscow that Polina—the lady who helped us—drove.”

She was our saviour that day and I barely recall the woman’s face, which is disappointing.

“It took many incorrect attempts and Lev hacking satellite images—don’t ask how—before finding it.

Once I did, I located the property’s owner and bought it off them.

The owner inherited it from his late father, but did nothing with the land; never even checked up on the place, and was pleased to get rid of it. ”

Once, even a year ago, these four walls would have destroyed my walls. It’s where it all happened, where so many of my nightmares are bred from.

Somehow, being here now, it’s lessened the impact. Maybe it’s the man beside me. Maybe it’s something else. But I don’t feel like I’m about to cry or experience a panic attack. The miserable building has lost all its power over me.

“Why would you want it?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled paper I recognize from the prison that one day, alongside a fancy pen. He unfolds the paper where only Ivan’s name remains, and then places the pen tip by the I and scratches across the entire name, completing the list.

“He’s gone. It’s where I went yesterday. Before we enter the future, everything reminding either of us of that night needs to be destroyed. And trust me when I say, it wasn’t gentle.”

Ivan’s gone.

Gone-gone.

His words replay in my head a few times until latching onto the part of my brain that once served as the foundation for my wall. It’s there, the fact brushes aside the leftover rubble, clearing my head for good.

There will be no future wall because he’s gone.

Tears prick the corner of my eyes and I stare at the note a bit longer. It’s over because Dimitri once again made it possible.

After a moment, I drag my gaze from the list to the building, our presence now making sense. After Ivan, there’s one more thing existing from that night.

“Oh.”

He reaches for my hand and strokes his thumb along my palm. “I want to destroy it— together. It’s why I bought the land, and why we’re here, but if you can’t, I’ll understand.”

It’s an easy decision and one given with little thought.

“I want to do this.”

Dimitri drives a bit closer before getting out and heading to the trunk. By the time I’m standing, he’s beside me with two large gas canisters.

I follow him near the building, already knowing I won’t be entering. There’s a limit, and seeing the interior is the max my head allows for. The mattress it happened on is in there. The chair they strapped Dimitri to. The ropes used. I’m not that strong.

“It’s just brick,” he murmurs, his knowledge of my heart and mind so profound, he knew exactly where my thoughts had derailed. “The building has no say on your well-being.”

“I know that.” It’s the only reason my feet continue moving.

Every step feels weighted on my chest, the memories threatening—hovering. I won’t give them power. Not this time. Not again.

Dimitri gestures for me to wait a few feet from the building. He props one canister outside and enters with the other before I can suggest another way of doing this. I’m not going inside, but it’s not fair for him to either—to risk reliving it all over.

Six souls entered that night. None walked out.

Four lost theirs the second they raped me.

Dimitri lost his having to witness it.

I lost mine experiencing it.

What else has this building witnessed since then? Or were we the last?

Lost in thought, I miss when Dimitri exits the front door, his face a bit more resigned than earlier.

He tosses the now-empty gas can into the building before reaching for the other and pouring a substantial amount by the doorway.

He paces the side of the building, pouring more along the foundation before creating a path my way, some twenty feet away.

“The brick won’t go up easily. It’ll take a while.”

“Fitting. What they did to me took a while.”

Dimitri tosses the remaining gas tank near the car and well out of the way before retrieving a pack of matchsticks from his pocket.

“Ready?”

“Da.”

Ready for this place to die.

Ready for the past to remain here.

Ready to embrace the future.

“Light it up, moya dusha .”

I take a matchstick, rolling it between my fingers before scraping the red tip along the box’s bottom, the flint catching. The small flame warms the tips of my fingers, but since it’s meant for this house of nightmares, I drop it onto the gas line.

Dimitri tugs me back as the fire catches and spreads, sticking to the gas line. It moves across the grass and zips for the building, the fire growing when it reaches the doorway, which is where Dimitri dumped most of the fuel.

It continues down the building’s side and inside, spreading further, taking with it the mattress that was the platform for my ruination.

Dimitri tugs me back until we’re leaning against the hood of his car. He holds me close, but remains silent. There isn’t anything to say because the flames are telling a rough enough story.

The memories will always be present. Shy of amnesia, nothing will take them away. They’ve been a shadow on my past, a hint about my future, and a factor on my present. They’re in my nightmares and daydreams. In my interactions with others. In my head.

It doesn’t mean they’ll win.

The fire burns for a while, slowly breaking the brick down and filling the sky with grey smoke.

Dimitri sighs in frustration. “I’ll send men with a bulldozer to remove the rest.”

“Don’t. The flames have done their job; the building has been altered, like we were.

We’re not the same teenagers who were tied up inside.

We were changed. This place is representative of that.

So however it looks when the flames die out is what it’ll be forever left as until the next big thing comes along to fix it. Like us.”

I reach for him—my next big thing.

He drops a kiss onto my forehead, inhaling deeply. His rumble vibrates through my chest, taking hold of my heart. “Whatever you decide, moya dusha . Did you wish to stay until the end?”

The fire no longer holds the same interest it did an hour ago.

“I’m ready to leave, if you are. I’ve seen enough and am ready to go home.”

Dimitri grasps my hand and stands, laying a searing kiss on my lips before climbing into the vehicle.

We drive away, leaving the past where it should have always been.

In the past.