Page 114 of Beautiful Cruelty

Who else will bleed because of the choices we've made?

I stare at my blood-stained hands, unable to look away.

Olga was right. There's blood on my hands now. And I have a sickening feeling this is only the beginning.

"Zvyozdochka." Vadim's voice cuts through my daze. He extends his hand toward me, his expression gentle despite the steel in his eyes. "You need to change out of those clothes."

"I can't..." The words catch in my throat. "This was her last..."

"I know." Vadim's fingers brush against my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "But she wouldn't want you sitting here in blood-soaked clothes."

He's right, of course. The rational part of my brain knows this. But my body feels frozen, locked in place by the horror of what just happened. By the weight of Irina's final smile before she slipped away under my desperate hands.

Vadim's hand remains extended, patient and steady. A lifeline in this storm of chaos and death. My fingers tremble as I reach for him, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs feel weak, unsteady.

"Come." His voice is soft but firm as he guides me toward the back of the jet.

I let him lead me, grateful for his solid presence. My mind keeps replaying those final moments like an endless repeating nightmare. The gunshot, Irina's body falling, my hands pressing uselessly against her wound.

My hand tightens against Vadim's, anchoring myself to the present through his grip, keeping me from drowning.

The door clicks shut behind us as Vadim guides me into the private cabin. My hands won't stop shaking. The blood has started drying, turning brown and flaky on my skin.

"Arms up," Vadim murmurs. His touch is achingly gentle as he helps me out of the dress. The fabric clings to my skin where theblood has soaked through, making a horrible peeling sound as he lifts it away.

"She made this for me." My voice cracks as I keep repeating myself as if it'll change reality. "I can't…"

"You have to,zvyozdochka." His fingers trace down my spine, leaving trails of warmth against my cold skin.

The dress pools at my feet in a ruined heap of crimson-stained white. I can't look at it. Can't bear to see Irina's work destroyed like this. Vadim's hands cup my shoulders, steadying me as I step free of the fabric.

"The water's warm." He guides me toward the small bathroom. Steam curls from the faucet he must have turned on while I was lost in my thoughts. "Let me help you."

I should feel exposed standing in my bra and panties. Should feel something beyond this hollow numbness. But all I can focus on is the dried blood coating my hands and arms. Even my hair is matted with it.

Vadim's fingers work at the clasp of my bra, and then slips my panties off my hips. His movements are clinical and careful. There's nothing sexual in his touch, just a steadying tenderness that makes my throat tight. He helps me into the shower, holding my elbow as my legs threaten to give out.

"You're in shock," he says softly, reaching for a washcloth. "Breathe. It'll pass."

Warm water cascades over my skin, but I barely feel it. My eyes stay fixed on the pink-tinged rivulets swirling down the drain. Irina's blood mixing with water, washing away like she never existed.

Vadim's hands are gentle as he runs the washcloth over my shoulders, down my arms. His touch anchors me to the present even as my mind threatens to spiral. The washcloth moves in steady circles, methodically cleaning away the evidence of what happened.

"Look at me,zvyozdochka," he murmurs when my gaze refuses to tear itself away from the drain and the pink ribbons swirling around it.

I try to meet his eyes but my legs suddenly feel weak, unable to hold me up anymore. I start to sink down and his arms catch me immediately, pulling me against his chest. The expensive fabric of his shirt soaks through as he holds me under the spray.

My eyes drift closed, seeking escape from reality. But the moment darkness falls, I see it again—Irina's body arching backward, that final serene smile, the blood seeping between my desperate fingers.

My eyes snap open with a gasp. "I can't! I keep seeing!"

"Don't dwell on it." His voice rumbles through his chest against my cheek. "Focus on me. Just me."

Something breaks inside me then. The sob tears from my throat before I can stop it, raw and primal. My fingers clutch at his ruined shirt as the tears come faster, harder. Each gasp feels like it's being ripped from deep within my soul.

Vadim just holds me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other supports my weight. He murmurs soft words I can't hear or understand, but the gentle cadence of his voice wraps around me like a blanket.

I cry until I can barely breathe, my whole body shaking with the force of my sobs. Through it all, Vadim's arms stay steady around me, letting me fall apart while he holds the pieces together.

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