One of Aleksei’s men steps forward and hands him something. At first, I can’t tell what it is. But when Aleksei seizesthe man’s trembling hand and the metal catches the light, I see it. Garden shears.
My stomach turns. I shake my head, begging him silently, praying he won’t.
He smiles, vicious and cold. And when the man tries to fight, Aleksei slams an elbow into his face. Cartilage cracks. More blood spills. Then, without pause, he clamps the pruners down and snaps.
A finger drops. A scream tears through the air.
I slap a hand over my mouth, gagging. I want to look away, but I won’t appear weak.
I’ve seen horrors in my line of work. Bodies torn apart by violence. The aftermath of human cruelty. But never like this. Not this close, not when I can taste the blood at the back of my throat.
He can’t kill this man in front of me. I’d be a witness.
Unless…
Unless that’s the point. Once we’re married, I can’t be forced to testify.
This performance isn’t just retribution. It’s strategy. A message. A warning. A vow.
And he’s making sure I don’t miss a second of it.
Aleksei doesn’t stop. He takes another finger. Then another.
The man’s screams crumble fast, turning into torn gasps and wet, stuttering sobs. The words he tries to choke out twist into nothing, falling away until only a rough whimper remains.
He’s losing too much blood. He won’t survive much longer.
“Are you still with me?” Aleksei slaps the man’s cheek, and his head lolls like a puppet cut from its strings. “Let’s wake you up.”
He chuckles. And that calm, amused sound turns my stomach more than the violence ever could.
One of his men steps forward, holding…a blowtorch.
Oh God…
My world tilts, nausea rises too fast to fight, and I barely make it to the grass before everything comes up.
“You don’t touch her!” Aleksei’s command tears through the air, thunderous and absolute.
Suddenly he’s beside me, his hand on my back. He crouches low, wiping my mouth with a cloth when I’m done, then tilts my face up to meet his.
“I will take you back. I think I proved my point.” His thumb glides over my cheek, a whisper of warmth that lingers longer than it should.
When his lips touch my forehead, I can’t bring myself to pull away, helpless to the strange comfort of it all.
He rises, and I force myself to look. Just in time to see the glint of his gun.
A single shot cracks through the air. Right into the man’s chest. The red in the grass spreads like ink on water.
But Aleksei doesn’t look down. He simply stands there, gaze fixed on me. And right now, I don’t know how to truly feel.
Because beneath the nausea, beneath the scream clawing at the inside of my throat…there is something else. Something worse.
Satisfaction? Some twisted form of relief?
He did this for me. He killed someone who hurt me.
And the craziest part? It doesn’t scare me.
