Page 50 of Gilded

LUKA

I sit beside Malia’s hospital bed and watch her sleep.

I promised her I’d never leave, but that’s not going to be the issue once she returns to reality, because she’s going to be the one to walk away.

And it’s only right. I’ve lied to her, used her, hurt her, and put her in danger.

She deserves so much better than me. She has a life to live.

Friends to find, a million things to experience, ten million things to learn about the real world.

She also has a ton of complications to deal with—the police, her trust, her father’s estate, her grandparents, and her mother’s death.

I don’t know how she’ll feel about killing her father.

I know she hated him, but he was still her only parent.

I’ve seen child after child after child cling to an abuser because that person was their parent figure.

I hate thinking she could suffer regret or resentment over killing him to save me.

It was one of the bravest and most selfless things I’ve ever seen anyone do.

But it’s also something she could end up hating herself for.

And I’m not looking forward to the way she’ll see me when she knows everything. I dread answering all the questions I know she’ll have.

I turn the Lego bracelet on her wrist. They took everything when she came in, and I was surprised to see she was wearing it. And pleased. It warmed my heart to know she was thinking of me on her wedding day, especially after the rough night we had.

Once she was settled, I dug it out of her bag of belongings and put it back on. The engagement ring is in my pocket. Malia will be able to sell it for a hundred grand. Not that she’ll need that money now.

I turn my head and rest it against the rail of the bed and thread my fingers with hers, trying to live in the moment.

I don’t know why I thought I could keep her.

She’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.

Stronger than me in more ways than I can count.

Most definitely smarter. More courageous, compassionate, honest.

Her eyelids flicker and open a sliver. After a second, she sits up in a quick, alarmed move, her gaze on the door.

“You’re in the hospital,” I tell her.

She startles and recoils, yanking her hand from mine.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s just me. You’re safe.”

“What’s happening? Why am I here?”

“What do you remember?”

A flurry of emotions crosses her face. “My father?”

“He’s gone. Dead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Two hundred percent sure.”

“Thank God.” She closes her eyes, sending tears down her cheeks. “My brain isn’t working. Why does my head hurt?”

She touches her head, where a ping-pong-ball-sized lump has formed, and winces.

“You hit the floor when you fainted.”

“I fainted?” She looks so confused, it hurts my heart. “Why don’t I remember?”

“The doctors said with the combination of the concussion and the trauma, you might be confused or missing memories. Your mind walls off some memories to keep you safe.”

She lifts her hands and looks at them, where blood is still crusted in the beds of her fingernails.

I take both her hands in mine and ease them lower. “I tried to get as much of it off as I could. I’ll get the nurse. Let her know you’re awake. Maybe you can shower.”

“No.” She squeezes my hand. “No. I don’t want to see anyone.”

She curls onto her side, facing me. Her gaze moves over my suit and the blood there before she does another quick sit-up. “Were you hurt? Are you okay?”

“Thanks to you, I’m fine. Relax.”

She eases back to the bed, and her gaze goes distant. I let the moment expand, giving her room to find her memories.

“Was anyone else hurt? Is Jairo okay?”

“Jairo’s fine. Two others are dead.”

“Who?”

“Soren and James.”

She releases a heavy breath. “I’d say this feels like Christmas morning, but I’ve never had a Christmas. Who killed them?”

“I did. When your father turned his head to look at you, I took his weapon.”

“Are you in trouble? Am I in trouble? Are we going to prison?”

“Things are a little messy right now, but I’ve spent hours with the police explaining what happened, which was confirmed by other cops and witnesses. They also pulled surveillance, which will back up everything.

“We had an issue or two over my men carrying weapons and you carrying a knife, but I pulled in a few favors to make those smaller charges go away. You’ll have to talk to police as soon as you’re up to it and explain everything from your point of view, but it’s not a crime to kill someone who is about to kill you or someone else. ”

Which is neither here nor there. If I thought they’d arrest her, she’d be on a plane to Montenegro or another gorgeous country without an extradition agreement with the US.

She stares blankly at me for a few long moments. “It felt so good to kill him. That’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Baby, that man had no conscience. He was an animal. He would have killed his own daughter the minute you weren’t of value to him anymore.

He hurt and killed people. He tortured people.

Ruined families. Ruined lives. He was evil personified.

So, no, it’s not wrong to feel good about getting rid of a monster like that.

My only regret is that I wasn’t the one to do it. ”

She rests her head back with a sigh and closes her eyes for a second. “Why am I so tired?”

“They had to give you a sedative in the ambulance.”

“God, I have ten million questions.”

“I bet you do. I’ll give you all the answers you want. And while I’ve been limited in what I could tell you before, now I can tell you anything you want to know. And I’m going to be two-hundred percent honest with you from now on. But I will warn you, a lot of it is going to be hard to hear.”

She glances away, takes a deep breath, and refocuses on me with a look of fear, dread, and resignation. “My father recognized you from somewhere, like he said, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” I hate how this will change the way she looks at me. “He was one of the people who took me from my house.”

She pulls in a sharp breath. “The home invasion? That was him?”

I nod.

“But you said you were young.”

“I was. Six, but I look just like my father. I think he remembers me because I bit him trying to get away.”

Horror splashes across her expression. “He’s the one who killed your family ?”

I nod.

“He took you but left your family?”

“He killed my father and brother and took me and my mother.”

“Is she alive?”

“No. He put us in different places. After I escaped as a teenager, I looked for her, but she’d been killed years earlier.”

Her eyes look so big with her skin so pale.

“Wh-what do you mean different places?”

“He dumped me in a work camp and my mother in a brothel.”

Tears swim in her eyes. “He enslaved both of you?”

I nod.

“H-hard to hear was an understatement.” Tears slide down her cheeks and drip off her chin. “ I-I don’t have words…”

“You don’t need them.”

“I knew he was evil, but this…” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You must see him every time you look at me.”

“What I see is a woman who has overcome serious hurdles and has become an incredible person.”

“My hurdles don’t even begin to compare. I just… I can’t even get my mind around all this. Why didn’t you kill him a long time ago?”

“I couldn’t reach him. He’d been bulletproofed. I had to get inside.”

She lies back down on her side, and I ease to a seat on the edge of the chair.

“This is all so catastrophically fucked up,” she says. “I know words can’t heal wounds, especially not the kind you have, but for what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry for all the misery and heartache he’s caused you. I wish I’d found out about him sooner.”

I wrap my fingers around hers. “And I wish I’d known you weren’t involved in his business sooner.”