I begged for him.
I willingly let him inside me, over and over, with no protection.
And there's still his mother's threat. If I tell him aboutthatalong with the baby, then he'll do whatever it takes to keep me safe.
He'll rip his own family apart for me, and when the weight of his actions crushes him, I'll have to be the one to pick up the pieces.
Just like I did before.
I draw in a shaky breath and meet his gaze directly.
"Does it make you feel powerful?" I ask, my voice low but steady. "Killing the man who raped me? Does that cement your ownership over me?"
His eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard.
"Does murdering him somehow undo all the awful things that happened because of that one terrible moment?" I continue, gaining momentum. "Is that how you define who I am to you? A victim that needed your saving?"
"I was trying to?—"
"You don't get to make these decisions for me," I cut him off. "You've forced me to relive those awful moments all over again."
Anatoly's jaw clenches. "I gave you closure!"
"YOU TOOK MY CHOICES AWAY FROM ME!" I scream, my voice tearing from my throat. "YOU'RE NO DIFFERENT THAN HIM!"
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and poisonous. Something shifts in Anatoly's eyes, and darkness start gathering there like storm clouds.
"You don't mean that,printsessa," he says quietly, taking a step toward me.
I say nothing, my chest heaving.
"Do you really think I'm no different than Grant Bennet?" His voice is dangerously soft now as he takes another step closer.
I press my lips together, refusing to speak, refusing to take it back even though fear is creeping up my spine.
"Answer me," he demands, moving closer still.
I back away, matching each of his steps with one of my own. My heart hammers against my ribs as I retreat, knowing I have nowhere to go. His presence fills the room, threatening to suffocate me.
I keep backing up until my back hits the wall.
Anatoly plants his hands on either side of my head, caging me against the wall. His body is so close I can feel the heat radiating from him, smell the metallic tang of blood still clinging to him.
And I can feel my own desire for him slowly awakening.
He's the hottest fucking thing in the world right now.
"You think I'm taking your choices away?" he asks, his voice dangerously soft. "Tell me, Indigo. Did you never once think about taking vengeance on Grant Bennet yourself?"
I swallow hard, saying nothing.
"Is there not a part of you that was happy when you heard he was dead?" He leans closer, his breath fanning across my face. "Did this not feel like justice? Tell me the truth."
My lower lip trembles as I struggle to maintain my composure.
He's right.
Thisdidfeel like justice. Thiswassomething that I wanted for two years.