Ethan’s jaw tightened as he relayed it aloud. “She says he’s evil.
No one contradicted me.
Because they couldn’t.
I scanned the dim lot, shadows stretching long across cracked asphalt. My eyes searched instinctively for Ruslan’s towering figure.
During the fight, I had caught glimpses of him—cutting through men like a storm given flesh. There had been blood on him, but not enough to know if it was his.
A dark thought flickered.
Had he been hit?
Had a bullet found him?
Had the masked man gotten lucky?
Part of me hated myself for the way that thought didn’t horrify me.
Part of me wondered if the universe would balance itself that way.
But even if he were dead—
Forgiveness wouldn’t come.
My child would still be gone.
My voice would still be missing.
“Ruslan?” Dario asked quietly, following my gaze.
I looked at him sharply.
“He went after the one who escaped,” Dario explained. “The masked bastard. Took three men and chased him personally.”
My stomach twisted.
Of course he did.
Ruslan didn’t delegate revenge.
He owned it.
A swirl of emotions tangled in my chest—dread, fury, something darker.
Let him find him.
Let him tear that monster apart.
Let him make him beg.
Let him make him bleed for every second I had endured.
If Ruslan did that—if he dismantled the man who had drugged himself in front of me and laughed while I lay bound—
Would that redeem him?
No.
