The vengeance that dragged me into this life—the wars, the pride, the power—none of it means anything compared to the terror I felt today.
The terror of losing her.
Vivian Laurent Rusnak.
My wife.
My disaster.
My undoing.
I press my palms to my eyes, exhale, and let the admission settle in my chest like a brand.
I’m in too deep now.
And there’s no going back.
The door opens softly.
Vivian steps inside—barefoot, drowning in one of my shirts, eyes still bruised from everything the last twenty-four hours have stolen from her. She looks at me like she’s been searching for me all night.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
“How’s your mother doing?” I manage.
She smiles. “She’s recovering very well. Where were you? Sylvester said you had to go handle something urgently. I was worried.”
“I wanted to destroy you,” I say before I can stop myself. My voice comes out low, raw. “But I think I destroyed myself instead.”
She doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t run.
She just walks to me, slow and certain, like she’s approaching something dangerous she’s already accepted as hers.
Her palms slide up my jaw, warm and steady.
She tilts my face toward her and whispers, “Then maybe we build something new…from the ruins.”
The words hit something deep, something unguarded. I close my eyes for a second, steadying myself—because I feel too much.
When I look at her again, I force out the truth. “Vivian…there’s something you need to know.”
She freezes.
“It’s about your father.”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t pull away. I tell her everything. Her eyes water, but the tears don’t fall. She’s brave, my girl.
“So I found him.” I pause. “I didn’t kill him. I tried not to hurt him—because of you.”
Her fingers tighten around my jaw.
“He’s alive,” I add quietly. “Where he goes from here…what happens next…that choice isn’t mine. It’s yours.”
The room goes silent.
She stares at me like she’s seeing the monster and the man at the same time—and deciding which one she wants to touch.
