CHAPTER 23
Saint
She's in the shower.
Has been for forty minutes.
I can hear the water running. Constant. Unending.
I sit on the bed in the safe house, staring at the bathroom door.
My wife just killed the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva.
Stabbed him to death. Brutally. In his own office.
The thought keeps circling, and I can barely focus on them. It's one thing for me to brutally murder someone, but Gemma…
Gemma. My Gemma, just committed one of the most brutal murders I've ever seen.
And I've seen a lot.
It takes a lot of energy to stab someone, a lot of strength, and even more anger.
Overkill doesn't even begin to cover what Gemma did to him.
She went feral on him.
I should be horrified.
I should be worried about what this means. About what she's become.
Instead, I feel excited. Proud. A lot of emotions that I can't quite put my finger on.
Alexei tried to play her, wanting to use her to get to me and likely Adrian. She completely turned the tables on him. And he didn't see it coming. That's the most satisfying part. She killed a man who was bigger and more powerful than her, and all because he never saw her as a threat.
The water finally shuts off, and I wait. We have a lot to discuss.
She's wearing my t-shirt. It hangs to her thighs. Her hair is wet, dripping onto the floor, and I notice that her skin is red, scrubbed raw and heated, but there's no more blood. She did what I told her to do.
She looks at me. Those silver eyes that were dead for weeks are alive now.
Different. Harder. But alive, and I'd willingly sacrifice a hundred men to make sure they don't die again.
"I can still smell it," she says, bringing a shaky hand to her hair. "The blood. Even though it's gone, I can still smell it."
"That'll fade," I tell her. "It's in your head. You smell like soap to me."
She sits beside me on the bed and makes sure to scoot far enough away that we are barely touching.
"I killed him." Her voice is calm. I can't tell if she is shocked still, or if she is processing.
"Yes."
"I didn't plan it. I took the letter opener from his desk, but I didn't—" She stops. She told me this before. "I don't know why I grabbed it."
I turn to face her, not saying anything. I just let her talk.
"I thought he might kill me."
