Genevie's lips were still on mine, but I couldn't smell her perfume anymore, couldn't feel her warmth. All my attention was on that damn phone. Irritation gnawed at my nerves.
What was I doing? Too much time had passed.
My wife—whatever she'd done, she was still my wife. Even if Harper had pushed Genevie. Even if she'd turned into some jealous monster. I was the one who'd made her that way.
I couldn't go back.
"Enough."
I shoved Genevie away. She stared at me in shock, lips parted, like she couldn't believe I'd pushed her off.
"Kirill?"
"No." I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage churning inside me. "Doctor said you need complete rest."
I hadn't forgiven Harper. Not yet. She needed to learn.
But I couldn't stay here. Every second suffocated me.
Genevie's face went white. She bit her lip. Tears welled up again.
"Get some rest." I avoided looking at those crying eyes. "I'll send the best nurse to take care of you. Boris will guard the door. No one's going to hurt you."
"Kirill! Where are you going?" Genevie scrambled to get out of bed and grab me.
"I've got something to handle." I didn't look back. I strode out of the room.
Instinctively, I reached for my pocket, wanting my phone. Empty.
Then I remembered—I'd left it on the nightstand.
Maybe that was for the best. It would keep me from doing something stupid and soft.
Chapter Nineteen
Harper
That basement was cold as a morgue.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been down there. Time meant nothing in that place. I was curled up in the corner, tears long since dried up, left with nothing but raw sockets scraping against themselves.
My lower back throbbed where Kirill had shoved me into the staircase railing, but that physical pain was nothing compared to what was tearing me apart inside.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Aiden dying alone in that hospital bed.
Kirill had promised me. He'd sworn he'd get Aiden the best surgeon for the operation. But now he was with that woman, and my brother—my only blood in this world, my entire reason for living—had died listening to those damn dial tones.
I hated myself. Why had I believed Kirill? Why had I waited for his phantom "best doctor"? If Aiden had gotten the surgery earlier, maybe he wouldn't have died. This was all on me.
Guilt and grief were drowning me when a commotion erupted outside. Someone was roaring in Russian, followed by the dull thud of something heavy hitting flesh.
A gunshot tore through the cellar's silence.
Were they coming to execute me? Had Kirill finally decided to make me disappear for hurting his precious woman?
Fine.
Let it end. I had nothing left to live for anyway.
