Page 40 of Bratva Butcher

“You’ve never been in love?” There was no judgment in his voice. No pity. Only surprise, like it was a hard thing to comprehend, someone going their whole life without experiencing something that was fundamental to human nature.

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, if you had, you would know.” His gaze drifted to my right and held. His eyes turned vacant, unreadable as he stared off into the empty air. I waited. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. I made a mental note to confront him on it.

Another time.

“Love is…” There was almost a dreamlike note to the words as if he was reliving some sort of memory associated with the word. “Everything,” he breathed reverently. “It’s everything. It’s like coming home. An overwhelming sense of peace and serenity. It’s joy. Happiness. Awe. And a million other things that make your heart race so fast, you feel like it’s going to burst out of your chest. It’s warmth. And sunshine. And light and laughter. A hurricane of emotions that just knock you off your feet. It’s waking up early just so you can watch them sleep. It’s three A.M. trips to the store for ice cream because that’s what they feel like, and you’ll do anything to make them happy. It’s having all your worries and troubles just wash away with one smile on their lips.” Then his face turned sad. Full of pain. “Ultimately, though, love…is death. Because to love someone—and I mean truly,trulylove someone—your heart…your soul…are tethered to theirs. So,when they die, you die too. Air might still enter your lungs. Your heart might still beat. Blood might still pump in your veins. But you’re notalive. Not really. Not anymore. That part of you that made youyoudied along with them. You might laugh or smile, but it will be empty. It will be meaningless.Everythingwill be empty without them. You’ll live your days like a zombie, coasting through life but never reallyliving, waiting eagerly for the day when it will all end so you can be reunited with the other half of your soul.”

I was completely speechless. The way he spoke about love—abouther—all that devotion… It was beautiful. And heart-wrenching. Was I glad that I’d never experienced that before? Something that was obviously so consuming, so crippling? Or was I jealous? Jealous that I might die before anyone would lovemethat fiercely?

“I don’t know whether I’m relieved to have never experienced love, or sad that I might die before I’m able to,” I said honestly, telling him exactly what was on my mind. Honest truth deserved honest truth in return. He’d shared more than he needed to with me, something incredibly personal. The least I could do was share something, too.

He remained silent for a moment, still staring off to my right before his eyes moved back to me, filled with so much emotion that I honestly thought I was seeing things. “Despite how painful love is, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I’d suffer through it all over again if it meant one more day, one more hour, one more second in her presence. Every slash to my soul, every hit to my heart… I’d endure it a thousand times over because it’s worth it.”

Jesus. I never realised love was something I was missing out on until right then. What must it feel like to have someone so devoted and so dedicated to you and you alone?

I wanted that.

A silence stretched between us. Not awkward, but comfortable. I didn’t think either of us expected a conversation such as that to blossom between us, especially since we didn’t even like each other. But I suppose being locked up changed things. Being at death’s door changed things. We were both most likely going to die within the following few days. Sharing a few secrets didn’t seem so bad when you knew the person you were telling them to wasn’t going to live to spread them.

“I was hired to kill your brother.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened slightly, his body straightening and coming to life. Although it was dark, I could still see it—seehim—clearly. His body was a fucking marvel. “So youarean assassin?”

“Picked up on that, did ya?”

“I called it the second you killed the man who was torturing you. Samuel.” His eyes ran the length of my body, down and up before settling on my face again. “What’s the name you work under?”

Most assassins had a name they liked to use when making their kills. A moniker. A way for them to claim the kill without giving up their identity. Mine was The Crimson Death.

But I wasn’t going to tell him that.

A girl’s gotta keep some of her secrets.

“It kills you that you don’t know it, doesn’t it?” I chuckled.

“Yes,” he surprisingly admitted. “I like to know who I’m working with.”

“It’s such a pity you’ll never know, then, huh?” I settled back into the cot, lying flat on my back, interlocking my fingers and putting them behind my head at the same time as I crossed my ankles. “You’re not surprised I was hired to kill your brother?”

“No. I’ve been trying to kill that fucker for years. I’m not surprised to hear someone else wants to as well. Who hired you?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” I tutted. “Client confidentiality is a big thing in my profession.” It wasn’t like I could tell him anyway.Ididn’t even know. When I was contacted for a job, anonymity was something the client could choose if they so wished it. Instead of meeting up with me directly, this client chose to send one of his henchmen in his place. We met in an abandoned office building, where I was handed the file on Dominik, given my timeframe and half of the payment. The other half would be paid upon completion.

Which was never going to happen.Shit. If I ever did get out of there, I was going to have a serious problem on my hands that would need to be dealt with as soon as possible. Assassins were only as good as their reputations. If word got out that I failed to complete a job, my days as a hired killer would be well and truly over.

“What happened?” When I turned my head to look at him, a frown on my face at his question, he cocked his head. “All the assassinsIknow got into the business of killing people for a living because something happened in their life—something usually dark and twisted—that made them go down that path.” He held eye contact, never once looking away. “What happened to you?”

If he hadn’t just shared his own past, I might have told him to shove it up his ass and then rolled over and went to sleep. But, I was in a giving mood. So, why not?

Traumatic as the event was for me at the time, it was something I could now talk about freely. The scars from that day had healed, both mentally and physically, making it easier to open up.

“My parents and I went to Switzerland for a ’family holiday’,” I began, using air quotations because the entire thing was a fucking joke. “It was something suggested by my therapist to help bring us closer together. Help us bond, or whatever it isfamilies are meant to do. Things had always been fucked up in our family. My brother, Corey, was the apple of my parents’ eye. Their firstborn. Their miracle child, as they so often told him, because he was the first pregnancy to make it to term after a string of miscarriages.”

“You keep saying ’was’.” It almost sounded like there sympathy in his voice.

There shouldn’t have been. My brother didn’t deserve any sympathy.

---