I search her face for reaction. Shock. Grief. Anger.
Nothing.
Just careful stillness while she processes.
"I know it was fatal," I continue, "because I was there when it happened."
I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth. Letting her understand exactly what I'm saying without spelling it out in words that can't be taken back.
Her eyes widen slightly. Understanding dawning.
One heartbeat of stillness.
Just one.
But in that heartbeat, I see her entire childhood. Every moment of neglect. Every time Arthur chose his reputation over her safety. The night he dismissed her trauma as dramatics. The deal he made with Ramiz, bargaining his daughter like currency.
And his last revelation. The worst one. The one she doesn’t need to know.
The deal he made with Ivan Valkov.
My hands tighten on Victoria's hips, remembering. Arthur's arrogant face when he explained it. How he'd lost Valkov's money in a bad investment. How Valkov demanded payment in blood or alternative compensation.
How Arthur offered his twelve-year-old daughter instead.
"The deal was no penetration," Arthur had said, like that made it acceptable. "I'm not a monster. I protected her from the worst of it."
Those words sealed it.
Those words put the gun in my hand and my finger on the trigger.
Because Arthur Ainsley genuinely believed he deserved credit for negotiating terms on his daughter's assault.
Victoria's chin trembles. Her lips press together, fighting emotion I can't read.
Terror slides through me, cold and absolute.
I've gone too far.
She's going to hate me.
She's going to look at me and see her father's blood on my hands and realize she can't love someone capable of that.
Then she whispers, "Thank you."
Two words.
Barely audible.
But they shatter me completely.
"Thank you for taking care of yet another monster."
Her voice breaks on the last word. Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks. But she's smiling. Actually smiling through the tears like I just gave her a gift instead of a confession.
Relief crashes through me so hard I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything except hold her while she cries and thank whatever god is listening that she's mine and I'm hers and we're somehow going to be okay.
She kisses me.
