Page 66 of Carved in Ruin

I can’t stop the tears from spilling. Her cold, skeletal face stares back at me, and I press my forehead against it, my sobs choking me.

Arkadi stays silent, the fire still crackling beside us. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t say a word. But he stays. And somehow, that’s enough.

Everything I touch turns to ash. I ruin everything. Every breath I take feels like it pulls the light from the world, leaving only darkness in my wake. I am destruction wrapped in human skin, a demon wearing a human mask. The people I care about—I bring them nothing but pain, nothing but agony. My mother’s life was stolen because of me. Layla never had a normal childhood because of me. And Rafael… God, Rafael. I even hurt him.

I feel the weight of Arkadi’s jacket settle over my trembling shoulders. The warmth of it is jarring against my skin. It’s an act of kindness I don’t deserve.

My eyes fall to the gun holstered at his side. Without thinking, my hand reaches out, my fingers brushing against the cold metal.

His hand snaps to mine, firm but not harsh, stopping me before I can grab it.

“Arkadi, I need your gun.”

He doesn’t release me.

“Arkadi,” I hiss. “That’s an order.”

Still, he doesn’t budge.

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” I bite out in desperation. “I swear to God, it’s not for me.”

His grip tightens for a moment, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. I want to scream at him, but I don’t. Instead, I plead.

“Let Pakhan do it for you,” he says softly, almost like he’s begging me. “Please. He would be pissed if I let you do this. At least let me do it for you.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I need to do it myself.”

His shoulders sag slightly, as if he understands. He releases my hands slowly, then pulls the gun from its holster. Hismovements are hesitant, almost reluctant, as he presses it into my shaking hands.

“Pakhan’s going to kill me,” he mutters.

I stand, my legs unsteady beneath me, the weight of the gun unfamiliar but grounding in my palm. My knees buckle, and I drop back down into the dirt. The humiliation burns, but I push through it. I force myself to rise again, my body swaying as I take one step forward. Then another.

The mansion looms ahead of me, every step drawing me closer to the man who deserves this more than anyone. My own father. The sad excuse of a man who created this hell.

I storm into the office, my body covered in dirt, mud, grime, and my own fucking tears. He’s sitting behind his desk, and the moment he sees me, he bursts into manic laughter, like some deranged animal.

“You’ve finally found your mother,” he sneers. His amputated hand points at me, bloodstained and still disgusting, even in its mutilated state. “Congrats. How was the reunion?”

I don’t answer. The words die in my throat as I take a step forward. Arkadi moves past me, grabbing my father and pinning him to the chair. Ivan follows quickly, both of them holding him down. Ivan looks confused, but he helps Arkadi and me despite that. I don’t want their help, not really, but I know they won’t let him get away.

I pull the safety off the gun, the metallic click loud in the silence that follows. My breath is coming too fast, too ragged, but I keep my eyes on him.

“You made me a murderer at nine years old,” I confront him. “You took my soul and twisted it until I couldn’t recognize it. And now… now you’re going to make me one again.”

He grins. That sick, twisted grin. “You’re just like me, you know? I’ve always known it. You’re a demon too. It runs in the blood.”

“You preyed on me,” I shout. “You killed my mother. You’re everything that’s wrong with this world. How could you do this to me?”

“Because I knew you were just like me, little girl,” he spits with venom. “You were always my greatest achievement. You’re not a victim—you’re just a reflection of me, a fucking monster in disguise.”

I don’t back down.

His head tilts as if he’s about to reveal some great truth. “Can I tell you my biggest regret?” His voice is low, almost tender, like he’s confessing some great sin. “I didn’t fuck you before I die.”

I want to wither away, but my body reacts before my mind can catch up. Without thinking, without hesitation, I pull the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot is deafening. The bullet rips through his skull, and I watch as his head explodes in a spray of blood, brain matter, and bone fragments.

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