Page 53 of Darkest Sin

Tears fill my eyes as my hands begin to shake. None of this is okay.

“He’s going to be alright,” Krista soothes, moving in beside me and latching on to my hand. She squeezes it tightly as her gaze remains locked on the same damn screen. “Killian knows what he’s doing. He was trained to be the best.”

The mere seconds feel like hours when I finally see Killian emerge from the thick bushes, his men dragging a man behind them. They stand just outside the bushes when they shove him to his knees in front of Killian.

There’s no sound on the screen, but it’s clear they’re having a heated conversation, and judging by Killian’s stance, he’s pissed. The gunman obviously isn’t giving him the answers he’s looking for, and when his gaze shifts upward and he says something to his head of security, the gunman panics and launches to his feet.

I suck in a gasp, horror booming through my chest, and before a scream can even tear from the back of my throat, the hitman snatches a gun from the holster of one of the younger guards, shoves the tip to the bottom of his chin, and pulls the trigger.

Horror consumes me, and I watch as the gunman falls lifelessly to the ground—a portion of his skull no longer intact—and if I thought Killian was pissed before, now he’s filled with rage.

“What—what just happened?” I ask, my heart booming so fast, it hurts.

“He chose imminent death over the brutality of Killian’s interrogation,” Krista explains. “And believe me, it was the wisest move he’s made all day. Nobody comes out of interrogation without deep scars.”

A shiver sails down my spine and I watch as Killian reprimands his security for allowing the hitman close enough to take his gun. And with that, he turns and stalks back toward the house. It’s not long before he walks right out of frame, and for a moment, I’m filled with overwhelming heaviness.

Is this really what he has to deal with on the daily? No wonder his heart is so full of darkness. Had that been anyone else who had to deal with that, they’d be in therapy for years, but not Killian. He shakes it off as though the trauma will somehow make him stronger.

There’s a sound at the door of the safe room, and as the mechanical locks release, the door opens wide, revealing Killian framed by the sunlight streaming in through the broken kitchen window. His dark eyes immediately come to mine, locking onto me like a hunter seeking his prey, and before I know it, I’m sprinting across the safe room.

I fly into his arms, crushing my face against his chest and inhaling that deep woodsy scent. His strong arms close around me, holding me tight enough to leave bruises across my ribs, but I don’t dare pull away or complain.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur against his wide chest as he scoops me up and walks us out of the safe room and back through to the kitchen.

He places me down on the counter, stepping into me as he takes my chin and tips it up to meet my stare. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel,” he tells me as his gaze sails across my face. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. I just . . . I hated seeing you run out there. You risked your life to protect me.”

“A man came onto my property to launch an attack on my wife. What did you expect me to do? Let him have you?”

“No, of course not,” I say, reaching up and cupping both sides of his face in my hands, sensing the fire burning within him and watching it slowly fade. “Seeing you like that . . . I was wrong to tell you that I could never love you. I misjudged you without giving you the chance to explain, and I hate that something could have happened to you and the last thing you would have remembered of me was being a bitch to you for the past few days.”

Killian pulls back, freeing his face from my hands. “You were well within your rights, Chiara.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“It’s not important,” he says. “I’m sure you have many questions about what you saw, and we can talk about that when you decide you’re ready, but for now, I need to know what happened in that bathroom with Monica.”

“Monica?” I question. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“That hitman wasn’t here for me, Chiara.”

My brows furrow. “You think Monica hired him for . . . what? For me?”

“Yes. Now tell me what happened in the bathroom. Did she say anything to you before she attacked you?”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to remember everything that went down, despite having spent the past week doing everything in my power to try and forget. “She ummm—” I pause, letting out a heavy breath filled with reluctance. “I really don’t want to make matters worse.”

“You had a hitman shoot at you. How much worse do you think it’s going to get?”

There’s no denying it, the asshole has a good point, and I finally give in, telling him what he needs to know. “Okay, I’m paraphrasing here, but basically, she was saying that I was one more obstacle in the way of her and Sergiu taking over if you were to . . . you know, end up six feet under.”

His face scrunches as if not following where I’m going with this. “If you were to knock me up, your child would inherit your . . . throne, or whatever you call it. But if I was out of the way with no chance of having your child, they would be one step closer to the top.”

Killian’s brows furrow. “That’s what this is really about?” he questions, letting out a heavy sigh. “She’s going to all this effort to try and take you out for the hope of one day getting to call the shots.”

“Yep.”

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