Page 86 of Savage Reins
Her gaze returns to my face, studying my features as if seeing me clearly for the first time since we met. She should be running from me now, should pack her belongings and disappear before the next wave of violence finds her doorstep, because any sensible woman would flee from a man capable of this level of brutality.
"You did this for me," she whispers.
"I did this because they threatened you with torture and death. Because they came to my woman's home with guns and threats and the arrogance to think they could take what belongs to me without paying a price measured in blood."
"And if more come seeking revenge?"
I meet her eyes, letting her see the absolute truth written there in expressions that cannot lie about matters of life and death. "Then more will die until the lesson becomes clear to anyone fool enough to threaten what I have claimed as mine."
She should recoil from those words, should understand that loving me means accepting a future filled with violence and death and the constant threat of retaliation from enemies who multiply with each body I create. Instead, Mira steps forward,her hand finding my face with fingers gentle against skin still warm with blood and smoke. "Thank you."
The words carry understanding instead of horror, acceptance instead of rejection. She's not thanking me for the killing itself but for the protection it represents, for the love that drove every trigger pull and blade thrust this morning.
"Mira—"
"I know what you are," she says, her thumb tracing across my cheekbone. "I know what you have done and what you will do again if circumstances require it. But I also know you did all of this to keep me safe from men who would have hurt me in ways too terrible to imagine."
"Does it change anything between us?" I ask the question that matters most.
She considers the words seriously, her eyes studying my face as if weighing the man she loves against the killer she's seen in action. The silence stretches long enough for doubt to creep into my chest, long enough for me to prepare for the rejection that common sense demands she deliver.
"No," she says finally. "It changes nothing that matters."
Relief floods through me with warmth more precious than I deserve, more healing than any medicine could provide. She has seen the worst of what I am and chosen to stay anyway, chosen to love the killer who protects her instead of fearing the man who destroys anyone who threatens what we have built together.
"The ranch is safe now," I tell her. "No one else will come here with violence on their minds."
"How can you be certain of that?"
"Because the message is clear to anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. Vetrov land is closed to enemies. Anyone who sets foot here without permission will not leave breathing, and their deaths will serve as lessons to others who might harbor similar intentions."
She nods slowly, understanding the brutal logic of the world I come from where violence answers violence and threats are met with absolute destruction. It's the only language certain men understand, the only currency that purchases safety in a realm where weakness invites predation and strength demands respect.
"What happens now that the killing is finished?"
I pull her closer, feeling the solid warmth of her body against mine, alive and unharmed and protected by the blood I have spilled in her name. "Now we rebuild what they tried to destroy. We start over with clean ground and clear boundaries. We make this place into something worth the price we've paid to keep it safe."
"Together?"
"Together for as long as you can bear the weight of loving a man who solves problems with bullets and blades."
I've made my choice and accepted its consequences. I chose love over loyalty to men who would murder women. I chose protection over profit, a future with Mira over the obligations of a past that demanded I remain a weapon in service to other men's ambitions. The cost was measured in blood and bullets, but some things are worth any price that violence can extract.
Some things are worth killing for, and some things are worth dying for, but mostly, they are worth living for when the smoke clears and the dead are buried and the morning brings new possibilities instead of fresh threats.
32
EPILOGUE
MIRA
Iwalk the fence line before sunrise, checking the new posts and gates we installed after the Karpins tried to burn us out. Six months have passed since that morning when Renat killed eight men in our driveway. The ranch looks different now, transformed in ways I never imagined possible when we were scraping together feed money and praying the power company wouldn't cut us off.
New barns stand where the old ones burned, their timber still pale. We have thirty horses instead of twelve, and they're good stock with clean bloodlines and strong legs. Three trainers work full time now, along with four jockeys who know how to win races without getting themselves killed or their horses injured in the process. The money flows in instead of bleeding out, and for the first time in years, I can pay bills without calculating which ones to skip. Yesterday, I wrote checks for feed suppliers without checking the bank balance first. That small freedom still amazes me.
The security measures blend into the landscape, but they're there. Cameras hidden among the trees, motion sensors disguised on fence posts, and every worker carries concealedweapons along with their grooming brushes. Former soldiers who understand that protecting valuable horses sometimes requires protecting the people who train them. It's a different world from whenBatyaand I struggled alone, but it's our world now.
Renat stands at the pasture gate, shirtless and sweating from his morning run. His routine hasn't changed much, but everything else has. He grins when he sees me walking toward him, the expression transforming his face from the hard mask I first met into the warmth I wake up to every morning. The scars across his ribs have faded but the tattoos remain dark against his skin. His hands are clean, but I know what they've done and what they'll do again if anyone threatens what we've built here.
