Page 110 of Wicked Sinner
"I was trying to—" he starts.
"I don't care what you were trying to do." The blade bites into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood. "You failed."
Tristan appears in the doorway, breathing hard and covered in blood that doesn't look like his own. "Building's clear. We got them all."
I don't take my eyes off Slakov. "How many?"
"Twenty total. Two on our side."
Slakov's face goes pale as he realizes his entire crew is dead. "You can't kill me," he whispers. "I'm the only one who knows about all my father's old contacts. His suppliers, his routes, his?—"
"Konstantin already absorbed whatever there was to take. And if there’s anything left, I don't want any of it." I meet hiseyes, letting him see his end reflected there. "I just want you gone."
The knife slides between his ribs, smoother than I could have hoped. His eyes go wide with shock, his mouth opening on a gurgle of pain as I twist it, dragging upward as the life bleeds out of him. He slumps to the floor, and I wipe the blade clean on his shirt before sheathing it.
"Jesus Christ," Tristan mutters. "Remind me never to piss you off."
I ignore him and grab the keys out of his pocket before I move to Bridget, unlocking the handcuffs that bind her to the chair. She falls into my arms, and for a moment I just hold her, breathing in the scent of her hair and feeling her heart beat against my chest.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, pulling back to examine her face. There’s nothing visible, but that doesn’t mean she’s entirely okay. "Did they?—"
"I'm fine," she says quickly. "They didn't do anything except tie me up and threaten me. And Matvey talked my fucking ear off. The baby's fine too."
Relief floods through me so intensely that my knees almost buckle. I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs tracing over her cheekbones. She's alive. She's safe. She's still mine.
"We need to go," Tristan says from the doorway. "Better we get out of here in case anyone heard and made calls, or if Slakov might have some backup coming. He’s dead, but he might have loyal men somewhere."
I help Bridget to her feet, keeping one arm around her waist to support her. As we head toward the stairs, she looks back at Slakov's body.
"Is it over?" she asks quietly.
I follow her gaze to the man who tried to destroy everything I care about. "Yes,” I tell her firmly, turning slightly to look into her eyes. "It's over."
27
BRIDGET
It’s over.Those two words, said with such assurance, send a flood of relief through me. I look at Caesar, and I realize that I believe him. Just because he said it, I believe it.
I trust him with my safety. With my life. I know he’ll do anything in his power to keep me and our child safe—I just saw it. I believe he wants me safe and protected—that he wants the best for me, for us, always.
So why can’t I tell him how I feel? Why can’t I open my mouth and sayyes, Caesar, let’s do this?
Maybe because his willingness to keep me safe at all costs is a reminder of how much danger there is to keep me safe from.
And I think, too, that I’m scared of what I feel. Of what it would mean to let a man like this have all of me, to trust him with not only my life, but my heart as well.
I bite my lip, wanting to give him something. Some reassurance that I believed in him. "I knew you'd come,” I say softly as we start to move toward the door. “I knew you'd find me.”
He goes still, his blue eyes searching mine. "You knew?”
"Of course I knew." That I can tell him with absolute certainty, at least. And I can see, from the look that crosses his face, that it means something to him.
"Why?" The question comes out raw, vulnerable in a way I've rarely heard from him. "After everything I've done, everything I've put you through—why would you trust me to save you?"
I can't help but smile, even in this blood-stained warehouse room with a corpse cooling on the floor. "Because you're too arrogant to ever let anyone else take what's yours."
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then his mouth quirks up at the corner—not quite a smile, but close. "Is that what you think this is about? Arrogance?"
