Page 54 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

ANATOLY

I'm still lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, not quite sure what the fuck just happened. Everything seemed to unfold as if on its own, and this was the last thing I expected when I walked into this room.

My raw, bloody knuckles throb. The mayor's blood is still under my fingernails. Indigo's sweat clings to my skin. And the smell of sex seeps into every pore.

I should get up. I should go to her. But guilt eats away at me and keeps me here on the floor.

The words she hurled at me keep playing on repeat:

"You took my choices away from me. You're no different than him!"

Fuck!

And when she stared into my eyes even as my cock was buried inside of her, and she hissed those three little words that I never wanted to hear from her, even as we fucked harder than we've ever fucked before.

I hate you.

That cut deeper than any knife could.

Because there's a part of me that knows that she fucking meant it.

That same part of me knows that instead of bringing her the closure that I thought I was bringing her, all I did was bring her even more pain.

I fucking hurt her.

You took my choices away from me.

She's right.

Killing Bennet should've been her choice, but in my own anger at finding out what that bastard did, I somehow made it about me.

Yes, I might've done it for her, and yes, I've killed for her before. But the last time I killed for her, I waited for her to tell me that this is exactly what she wanted.

But this time?

This time, I went behind her back, dug into her past even though I knew she didn't want me to look, and then killed without ever asking if that's really what she wanted.

Without ever thinking about if this really is what she wanted.

I rub my hands over my face, ignoring the sting of my split knuckles. It's nothing compared to the gaping hole she tore in my heart.

I hate you!

But she must've wanted Bennet dead. She had to have wanted him dead! How can she not? After everything he did to her? To her family?

I could fucking feel it in the way she fucked me. And didn't she agree to this when I first saw her scars and told her I would give her the hands of the man who left them on her?

But still…

I can't shake this feeling. The desperation in her eyes as she fucked me—both against the wall and on the floor—the way she kept saying "I hate you" even as she pulled me closer...

Something's wrong. And it's not just Bennet's death that's caused this.

I need to fucking talk to her.

I get up slowly, and stare at the closed bathroom door, only to hear the lock click shut. But I walk towards it all the same.

When I reach it, I hear the shower come on. Then, I hear something else. The unmistakable sound of sobbing. It's muffled and broken, like she's trying to do her best to keep me from hearing it.

I lean my head against the door and feel my heart breaking as I listen to Indigo cry.

I fucking did this to her. I fucking hurt her. After everything I said and promised, I fucking did it anyways.

She's right. I'm no better than Bennet.

I'm just like that monster.

My eyes cast down and I see the blood still smeared across my knuckles, my palm, and my wrist. And that's when it hits me...

I put that same blood on her.

On her skin.

In her hair.

On her face.

Self-hatred burns stronger now, and the anger that had taken hold of me earlier falls away completely.

I want to open the door and apologize to her, but she doesn't want to see me right now. Otherwise, she wouldn't have locked it.

But I want to. I have to.

I feel like I'm about to lose her for good. She's slipping away from me with every sob that escapes her lips. And I don't want to lose her.

Slowly, I reach up and knock on the door. There's no response other than the continuous sound of the shower and her crying.

I bow my head and slump down, my forehead still pressed to the front of the door. My heart feels like it's being crushed under an unbearable weight. I clench my jaw to keep my voice as even as I can, all while my heart continues to shatter.

"Indigo," I call out softly, not knowing if she can even hear me. "I'm sorry."