I dangled her in front of Ivan. Like a complete fool, I allowed myself to repeat my past mistake.
“Katarina,” it comes out harsh and jagged. She winces, pushing back in her chair and I know she misunderstands.
Her arms wrap around her torso, her whisper filling my ears. “You must have loved her very much.”
I can hear the raw pain and the way it clogs her throat. I force my fist to relax. “I swore I’d avenge Rebecca. It’s a promise I intend to keep.”
If I loved Rebecca once, it was a youthful infatuation, one that I was already beginning to grow out of as the world hardened me. I’d intended to marry her for her loyalty, and because it was a sensible choice. It wasn’t love. But she still deserves my commitment to the punishment of her murderers.
Katarina nods. “You said you don’t intend for me to die?”
“That’s right.”
“Your plan isn’t to kill me in front of him then?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine. By God, she’s glorious like this. No fear, no hiding, she’s just probing for the cold, hard truth.
“I would never do that.”
She gives a stiff nod. “I told you that he’s vain. I’m sure your dismissal of him pricked his need to be the most important person in any room.”
She’s right. “What else can you tell me?”
She shakes her head. “I’m tired, Win. I don’t want to talk any more tonight.”
“But I want to hear more about your father. About you.”
She shakes her head, her lips pursing closed. I could insist. Probe. But I’ve hurt her enough tonight. “Tomorrow then.”
She stands not saying a word and not meeting my gaze either. And that’s when I know. She has no intention of speaking to me tomorrow. And likely not any day after.
Katarina is going to leave.
And I am going to let her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Katarina
Win bringsme back to the main house where I change into serviceable clothes, pack my bag with a change of clothes and all my cash, and shimmy out the window.
I don’t even care if there are cameras.
Win’s going to have to lock me in the basement if he wants me to stay here. I’ve had enough.
I heard his story about Rebecca, I felt his anger and grief.
And part of me did sympathize. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to watch the person you love die.
But more than that, what I felt was a jealousy so intense, it stole my breath.
It’s not about Win precisely. I think I might despise him with a passion. But no one has ever cared about me enough…
If I die, will anyone even mourn me?
I drop to the ground and sprint across the lawn, hiding in the shadows between the landscape lights. I make it to the stone wall that surrounds the property and bite my lip. It’s eight feet and with the weight of the backpack…
Moving back a few feet, I take a running leap at it, but don’t even get close to making it to the top.
I do manage to scrape my body against the stone, tearing at my clothes.
