Page 64 of The Devils' Darling

“Yes, you did. You could have left me there, with him, but you didn’t. You came, even though you knew he would put you through hell, too. You had a gun in that truck you took. I saw it. You shot that other motherfucker with it.”

“None of that matters.”

“Of course it matters! It matters more than anything. If you hadn’t come, Grigoriy would have raped me. He told me himself. He was going to rape me and impregnant me and take me off to Russia for himself. You stopped him.”

“No, I gave him what he wanted. It’s not the same thing.”

“You didn’t have any choice. Neither of us did. Is that what you’re beating yourself up about?”

He grinds his teeth so loudly I can hear it.

“I’m sick, Kukla. Fucked in the head. I’m just like him.”

I can’t believe he thinks this of himself. “You’re nothing like him.”

“I enjoyed it. When I was fucking you with those men watching, and you were cuffed to the bars, and then they desecrated you.”

I reach up and cup my hand to his cheek. “And then you made it all better again.”

“No, I didn’t. I cried in the dark like a fucking baby.” He yanks himself from my grip, swings around, and punches the wall. A dent is left in the plasterboard, and he cups one bruised hand with the other.

I soften my tone. “It’s okay to be vulnerable, Kirill. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. It makes us human.”

I take a breath. I need to tell him. He needs to know I’m not perfect either, that he has a far worse reason to hate me than the reason he’s beating himself up for. I don’t think there will ever be a right time, but it doesn’t feel good carrying this piece of information and not knowing how he’s going to react to it. If we’re all going to fall apart, we might as well do it with one huge explosion.

I force the words from my lips. “It was me.”

He glances over at me with a frown. “What was you?”

“I was the one who pulled the trigger. I killed your dad, Kirill.”

He freezes. “You what?”

My blood runs cold, and my heart practically stops. How did I think he was going to take this news?

“I couldn’t let him get away with it. I just couldn’t. If there was any chance he got to walk out of there, he’d never leave us alone. We’d never find peace again.” I draw a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry.”

But instead of turning from me, he reaches for me and takes my hand.

“Jesus, do not be sorry. It should have been me. I should not have put that on you as well. Now you have to carry the guilt with you.”

I shake my head. “The only guilt I have is around you and fearing you’ll be upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you, Kukla. Never.” He cups my face, presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much. I wanted to be able to protect you, but instead I feel like I contributed to your degradation. I hate myself for that. I want to lock you up in a safe box somewhere so nothing can ever hurt you again.”

“Getting hurt is a part of living. It’s how we get up again afterward that matters. I’m just happy you’re not angry with me for what I did.” I sigh. “I know it must hurt and that it will make you look at me differently. How can it not?”

He shakes his head against mine. “I won’t lie, it’s all a headfuck. But he was evil. And he wasn’t going to stop. If anyone was going to do it, I’m glad it was you. He hurt you, too.”

There are so many things stacked against us right now. It feels almost hopeless, as if we were naïve idiots thinking this could work, and it is slowly breaking down around us.

I still don’t know how we’re going to fix the Nataniele issue, but in that moment, I don’t give a shit about him. All I care about is reconnecting with Kirill. At least this is one part of our broken whole I can try to mend.

“Come back to me,” I whisper.

“I’m here, Kukla.”

“Not fully. Not in mind and heart and soul.”

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