Page 267 of The Devil's Thorn
And I let that feeling replace everything I ever knew about caution. I forgot what it meant to protect myself.
I dropped every suspicion I ever had about him. Let him crawl under my skin, into my head, mybed—until he became the one thing I clung to in a world that had taken everything else. And now?
Now I didn’t even know if he was the reason they died. The man I’d let own every inch of me might’ve been the one who pulled the trigger. Or stood behind the man who did.
My grip on the gun tightened. I stared ahead, wind biting into my skin like it wanted to peel me open.
And then—I heard it. Tires on gravel. Crunching. Slow. Deliberate. Headlights bathed me in harsh white. I didn’t move.
The engine cut. Silence followed. Heavy. Thick. Like even the night was holding its breath.
I didn’t turn around. I stood at the edge, gun still clutched to my chest, my spine burning with tension. My throat ached from holding back everything I wanted to scream.
I knew it was him. Of course it was him. I could feel him before he even stepped out. Like his presence warped the air. Like the earth shifted beneath him.
And then— The door opened. Footsteps. Measured. Controlled. Then a voice. Low. Familiar. That voice I knew in the dark, in the quiet, in the heat of a breathless night.
“Isabella.”
His voice hit me like a wave I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t move. Not at first. I kept my eyes forward, watching the horizon bleed into nothing, my chest rising and falling too fast. My throat burned. My hands trembled around the gun pressed to my ribs.
But then I felt it—him—moving closer. His footsteps were quiet. Careful. Measured like he thought I’d shatter if he made the wrong sound.
He didn’t get to do that. He didn’t get to approach me like I was some fragile thing he’d just discovered. Not after everything.
I turned. Fast. Fury burning through my skin, my eyes locking on his, and the second I saw that face—calm, unreadable,his—the scream ripped from my throat.
“You should’ve told me!”
My voice cracked.
He stilled.
“I heard the tape,” I snapped. “Iheardit, Rafael. Your name.Romanov approves.You—your people—your family—they killed my parents!”
He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished. I took a step closer, the wind whipping between us, tears blurring my vision even as I glared at him.
“And even after that… even aftereverything… I didn’t find out from you that you were engaged.” The words sliced out of me, sharp as the wind. “I had to find the contract in your office like some dirty little secret—like I was just something to fuck while you planned a life with someone else.”
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak. Not yet.
“Say something,” I hissed. “Lie to me. Deny it. Tell me you didn’t know who I was, tell me you weren’t behind it, tell me I wasn’t just part of some deal or war orwhatever the fuck this has been to you.”
He finally stepped forward. I raised the gun. Right between us.
My arm didn’t shake, but my heart did. My fingers curled tighter around the grip, the safety still off. The metal felt hot in my hand, even against the cold.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t flinch. He kept walking. Until the barrel pressedagainst his chest.
He reached up… and slowly wrapped his hand around mine. Around the gun. And without a word, he pressed itharderinto his heart.
“Then pull the trigger,” he said quietly. “If you think I’m the reason you lost them—if you really believe that—then end it right now, Isa. I won’t stop you.”
The sound of my breath caught. He looked at me. Not with cold detachment, not with fury. But with something heavier. Something cracked andopen.
“But know this—if I’d wanted you gone, you wouldn’t be standing here. You would’ve never made it to New York. You would’ve never stepped foot in my house. And I would’ve never looked at you the way I do now, with every goddamn breath in my body fighting the instinct to burn the world for you.”
Tears slid down my face without permission. I hated them. I hated that his words hit me where it still hurt. Where it always would.
