I pull back just enough to look at her face, to make sure she’s not bleeding, to make sure her eyes are still hers.
“You did so well, baby,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I kiss her—hard and messy and desperate—because I need her to feel something alive in this moment, something that isn’t blood and fear and death.
She breaks against my mouth. Then she pulls back, eyes wide and glassy and haunted. “I-I killed my mom, Drago. And she said I will be the next Preacher for sacrificing her. Her men might come after me, and make me…”
The words hit her like they’re poisoning her from the inside. Like she thinks she’s crossed a line she can’t uncross.
I shake my head immediately, forcing myself to stay calm for her even though I can feel the monster in me circling behind my ribs, ready to rip the world apart.
I glance past her shoulder at Maria’s body sprawled in the dirt.
And I see it. The smallest rise of her chest. The tiniest movement.
“No, lastochka,” I murmur, my voice low and sure as I look back at Lily. “She’s still breathing. She doesn’t get to win. She doesn’t get to have any power over you ever again. The Preacher dies with her.”
Lily lets out a sob that sounds as if coming from the bottom of her soul, her face twisting in horror, in grief, in relief she doesn’t know she’s allowed to feel.
I tighten my arms around her again, turning her slightly so she can’t see Maria as clearly. So she doesn’t have to watch her mother exist in this half-life.
She doesn’t need that. Not right now. But I do.
Because this woman doesn’t need torturing. She doesn’t deserve redemption. She doesn’t deserve a dramatic speech, a confession, or a chance to explain herself.
She just needs to die.
And as I hold Lily against my chest, her tears soaking into me, I stare at Maria’s body, and I make myself a promise so cold it feels holy.
You touched my girl. You made her bleed inside. You made her pull a trigger with shaking hands. You hurt the man who saved my life. You don’t get to walk away from this.
Not breathing. Not even crawling.
I press my lips to Lily’s forehead, soft as a vow. “I’m here,” I whisper. “You’re safe. I swear to you, you’re safe.”
My eyes never leave Maria.
Because safe doesn’t mean calm. Safe means finished. And I’m about to end this forever.
“Put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, baby,” I tell her, cupping her cheeks.
She sucks in a breath.
“You didn’t kill her, Lily. I did,” I whisper, voice hard but gentle for her. “Let the blood be only on my hands. Let me do this. I make the sacrifice, not you.”
She nods slowly as I release her, her whole body still trembling.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you more.”
She gives me the smallest smile, doing exactly as I say.
I turn my back to her, blocking her view.
And then I spot Lev’s gun on the ground beside Maria’s dying body.
I bend, picking it up, my fingers tighten around the grip. “This one’s for you, old man,” I whisper.
