“You stood there,” I screamed. “You watched him violate me. You let it happen.”
The trauma surged like a tidal wave—no warning, no mercy. I folded forward, forehead pressing into the mud, rocking back and forth. My nails dug into my scalp, pulling, grounding me in pain because the memories were worse.
“I trusted you,” I sobbed. “I trusted you.”
Marcus staggered backward, horror and shame battling across his face.
Then Ruslan moved.
He crossed the distance in two strides.
One moment Marcus was standing—next he was airborne. Ruslan grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the ground with bone-jarring force.
Mud splashed.
Marcus gasped, the breath punched from his lungs.
“What did you do to my wife?”
Ruslan’s voice was low. Deadly. Each word precise.
Marcus choked, rain streaming down his face as he clawed at Ruslan’s wrist.
I lifted my head, mud streaking my cheeks, and screamed through the storm:
“He betrayed me! He let my aunt’s husband violate me!”
Ruslan froze.
His head snapped toward me.
Then back to Marcus.
The grip tightened. Marcus whimpered, terror finally naked.
Ruslan looked at me again—really looked.
For the first time since the altar, something shifted.
Not pity.
Not mercy.
Recognition.
A man recognizing the shape of truth because it matched too closely with his own scars.
Then he kicked him into one of the open graves.
The body hit the earth with a dull, final thud.
And without hesitation, he followed—dropping down after him, landing in the pit like a predator closing the distance at last.
Not rushed. Not wild.
Like a monster who had hunted this prey for years... and was finally ready to finish it.
The water surged around them, icy and black, sloshing up to their waists. Mud sucked at their legs, dragging them down.
