Page 46 of The Devils' Darling

“I’m sorry.” Duchess sobs and throws her arms around him.

Kirill might be in shock, but his arms come around her automatically, and he nuzzles his face in her hair. “It’s okay, Kukla. It’s okay. He deserved it. It has to be this way.”

She pulls away from him and reaches down the front of her dress. “I got something for you.”

To my surprise, she produces a watch. It was the same one that had been on Grigoriy’s wrist. Holy shit, that’s what she was doing when she bent down to him. She took his watch to give to Kirill.

My jaw drops. She never fails to amaze me. Even when I think she’s at her weakest moment, she pushes herself to do more, thinking of someone else rather than herself.

He squeezes the watch in his fist and then pockets it. “Thank you.”

She gives a tiny nod, and they move together again. This time, Kirill lowers his forehead to hers, and they just stand that way, breathing each other in.

There’s a connection between them now, a bond, and I can feel it. It makes me an utter asshole to be jealous of it, but I am. How can I begrudge them this? They only had each other to get through the absolute hell they were in, but I still find it hard to watch.

Will she always be bonded to him now in a way I can never match?

Igor suddenly makes his break for it. I let him go, enjoying letting him think he has a chance.

Leon raises his weapon, but I put my arm out and steady his. “Let him run for a while. False hope dying is a beautiful thing to witness.”

Kirill releases Mack and storms away from us. He opens the rear doors of the truck he drove here and reaches inside. A moment later, he straightens with something in his hands.

I realize it’s a gun.

Face hard and set, he follows Igor into the woods. The other man is stumbling, babbling, and crying. He’s totally pathetic, and I can’t believe this is the guy that terrorized so many people, including Kirill.

“Hey, Igor,” Kirill shouts. “Get on your fucking knees and crawl to me, and I might let you live.”

Igor stops. He turns slowly to Kirill, and I can see it. That flash of defiance, the strength that stopped him from sucking Grigoriy’s cock, but then he flinches.

“This really hurts,” he moans as he gestures to the mess that is his package. “I think I’m going to need surgery.”

“Crawl,” Kirill says again.

“You won’t let me live.” Igor laughs, and it breaks into a sob at the end.

“Then why did you try to run?”

“I don’t fucking know. That stubborn will to survive?”

“Crawl to me,” Kirill says, and it’s almost soothing. Almost seductive.

“No.”

“Fine.” He raises the gun, and Igor shouts.

“Okay. Okay. Just, give me a second, this fucking hurts.”

He clambers down onto his hands and knees and starts to crawl.

“Wiggle your butt like a good doggie,” Kirill snarls.

Jesus Christ. I remind myself never to truly get on the wrong side of my friend.

Igor does as Kirill says and he wiggles his butt, sobbing in pain each time he does.

“That’s perfect. Pant for me.”

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