Page 143 of His Darkest Obsession

Anatoly stands there in silence as he watches the stand-off. From my vantage point I can see his hands.

His knuckles are raw and crusted with dark, dried blood.

Bennet's blood.

But the blood isn't what sets my stomach churning.

It's the knowledge that they're fighting because of me.

All of this—Bennet's murder, the family on the verge of tearing itself apart, and the chaos that's being unleashed onto the city—it's happening because of me.

Because Anatoly found out what happened to me that summer.

And now it risks escalating into something much worse.

Someone could die. And if someone did, then it would be my fault.

Again.

I can't just stand here and watch them tear each other apart.

So, I open the door and walk out.

Roma is the first to see me. He looks up and surprise flashes across his face. Then Svetlana turns around while her gun is still pointed at Vassily.

She gives me a slight shake of her head as if to tell me to go back inside.

But I don't.

That's when Anatoly finally turns around. The moment he does, all four siblings fall silent.

Svetlana lowers her gun, and Roma gives Vassily a slight shove behind him while his hands are still raised.

I feel my breath catch in my throat when I make eye contact with Anatoly. There's something wild in his blue eyes, a storm of emotions that changes every time he blinks.

One moment I see rage. Another, I see satisfaction. Then something that looks almost like relief.

My breathing quickens as he starts climbing the stairs toward me.

The baby. I need to tell him about the baby.

The words form in my mind but refuse to leave my mouth. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, heavy and useless.

I just keep staring at his hands.

Those powerful, bloody hands that held me so tenderly night after night.

His knuckles are split and raw, telling me the story of what he's done better than any news report could.

He killed my rapist with those hands.

He beat Bennet to death with those hands.

My stomach turns, not with disgust but with a complicated mess of emotions—vindication, horror, gratitude, and fear all tangled together.

He starts ascending the stairs, like a vengeful angel sent to do a terrible bidding.

Myvengeful angel.