Page 118 of Beautiful Cruelty

Grief turns to rage as I think of how her body crumpled and collapsed under that single bullet. My fingers curl into fists.

"Your fight is over now, Irinochka. Be at peace, and give my best to your father when you arrive."

I straighten and step back, giving Lacey space.

I watch as Lacey's shoulders tremble. Her fingers trace the delicate lace patterns on Irina's dress.

"You showed me what real strength looks like," Lacey whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Not just in how you died protecting me, but in how you lived. The way you turned your pain into something beautiful, helping others escape..." She swallows hard. "Every stitch you made carried hope. Every pattern weaved a story of survival."

My chest tightens as Lacey adjusts Irina's collar with trembling hands. The same hands that tried desperately to stop the bleeding just hours ago.

"You didn't just measure fabric, you measured hearts." Lacey continues softly, her voice breaking. "And now I understand why Vadim trusted you so much. Why everyone who knew you loved and treasured you."

"I wish…" Lacey's tears fall freely now, dotting the silk of Irina's dress. "I wish I'd had more time to know you. To learn from you." She gently adjusts a strand of Irina's hair. "But I promise you this. I'll carry forward what you stood for. Your courage, your compassion." She draws a shaky breath. "The way you fought to give others a chance at freedom."

The raw honesty in Lacey's words makes my throat constrict. She sees Irina exactly as she was. Not just as a victim who survived, but as a warrior who never stopped fighting for others.

"Thank you," Lacey whispers, pressing a final kiss to Irina's forehead. "For everything."

The mortician wheels Irina's body toward the crematorium doors. Lacey's fingers interlace with mine, squeezing so tight that I can feel her entire body trembling. Her other hand presses against her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs I can feel building in her chest.

The doors open with a mechanical hiss. Heat radiates from within, and I'm transported back to the way Irina's body felt when I lifted her into the cargo hold—still warm, as if some a part of her spirit lingered, unwilling to leave this world where she'd fought so hard to make a difference.

Lacey's grip tightens as Irina disappears into the flames. A guttural cry rips from her throat—raw and primal, filled with all the anguish I've been struggling to contain.

She turns and buries her face against my chest, her body wracked with violent sobs.

I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer as my own tears finally break free. In this moment, holding Lacey as she grieves, all my carefully constructed walls crumble. Every emotion I've suppressed since watching Irina fall crashes through me like a tidal wave.

Rage, guilt, and devastating loss.

Irina was more than just an ally. She was living proof that someone could emerge from darkness and create light for others.

Now she's gone, and I've dragged another innocent soul into my blood-soaked world.

Lacey's fingers clutch my jacket as she weeps. Her pain mirrors my own, pure and tainted by the violence that's shaped my life.

I press my face into her hair, letting my tears fall freely. Together we stand, clinging to each other as the flames claim what remains of a woman who still dared to believe in beauty despite having seen the depths of human cruelty.

The city lightsblur past as we drive through Seattle's empty streets. Lacey's head rests against my shoulder, her breathing still uneven from crying. The scent of smoke clings to our clothes, a bitter reminder of what we've lost.

My phone vibrates. A message from Demyon: "First location secured. Twenty-three rescued."

I slip the phone back into my pocket. The car turns onto the winding road leading to Pankration, and my chest tightens as I think of the bloody trail that led us here.

Nathan. The bible. Irina.

Each death adds another layer of darkness around Lacey's light. How many more before that light is extinguished forever?

"Stop the car," I tell the driver. He pulls over, just outside of Pankration's gates.

The mansion's lights are visible through the trees ahead.

Lacey lifts her head, confusion crossing her tear-stained face. I take her hand, running my thumb across her knuckles where Irina's blood has left invisible stains.

"Your part in this is over," I say quietly. "If you want to leave, I won't stop you."

Lacey lifts her head, her amber-flecked eyes searching mine in the darkness. "What do you mean?"

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