“No.” She steps away from me, escaping my touch. “I was many things, Dante, but lucky wasn’t one of them. I was scared, terrified, and weak.”
“You’re right. Luck had nothing to do with it. You had a plan because you were clever and brilliant and you left nothing to chance. But you’re wrong if you think you were weak. You were strong, Tatiana. You survived. You fought. You fought for Noah. A weak person wouldn’t have done what you did.”
That’s when I know.
This strong, intelligent, industrious woman is perfect for me.
No, I always knew that. Right from the start. If anyone could survive me, it was Tatiana. And she didn’t only survive. She flourished. But at what price?
“The men who did that to you…” I start, my tone dark. “They can be glad they’re dead. I would’ve done to them what they’d done to you and much worse. The same goes for the woman.”
“Oxo?” Her eyes flare. “She’s dead?”
“Yes,” I bite out. “Kent took her out when she tried to talk to me.”
“That’s why you killed him.”
My reply is clipped. “Correct.”
“That’s sad.” She gets a far-off look in her eyes. “I felt kind of sorry for Oxo. The man who mostly interacted with me was mean to her. I don’t think she was all bad.”
“Tatiana,” I say with warning, loathing her pity for the motherfuckers who tortured her.
“She looked vulnerable.”
“The only person who was vulnerable in that situation was you.”
“No.” A small smile curves her lips. “I don’t think so.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I splay and flex my fingers, imagining what I’m going to do to the bastards who orchestrated her kidnapping when I catch them. “I will find every person who had a hand in your abduction, and when I do, they’ll wish they’d never heard your name. They’ll die in the most painful manner my sick, creative mind can think up, all of them. I swear that to you.”
She gives me that same pitying look. “You do realize there will always be someone else who’ll come after the necklace, don’t you?”
No, there won’t be, not with the plans I have for it.
Gripping her nape, I pull her against me and give her a twisted smile. “If you think they’re going to die for the necklace, darling, think again. They’re going to die for you.”
She yanks away as if I’ve burned her with my touch, her expression fiery and offended. As if I’ll ever let anyone live who dared to threaten her or harm a hair on her head.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she says, visibly shaking. “I’d like to get out of here.”
I’m not sure if she means the church or our marriage, but I get the feeling it’s the latter.
Not giving me a chance to argue, she kneels on the floor and hooks her fingers into the joint between two concrete tiles where a corner is chipped. I crouch down and join her, pulling away the heavy tile. It falls over with a thud that echoes through the space. A small cloud of dust puffs up in the moonlight, making her cough.
She reaches up and takes a candle from the altar that she puts on the floor. The flame throws a reddish glimmer over a hole in the ground. The hollowed-out square is just big enough to hold a metal box with onyx inlays on the lid.
Tatiana removes the box carefully and puts it down on the floor. It’s a decorative box meant for treasures such as jewelry or love letters. Reverently, she brushes the dust off the lid. Then she wiggles it loose and lifts it. Just like that. No key. No electronic lock. No safety mechanism. Just a pretty box with a detachable lid.
Adrenaline floods my veins as I stare at the black fabric that covers the content. Dust is sprinkled over the cloth, appearing grainy in the flickering candlelight. The flame jumps high, illuminating Tatiana’s face with an otherworldly golden glow.
She falls back onto her ass. Trapped in fear, her green eyes appear even brighter.
“Hey.” I offer her a hand. “What’s the matter?”
Ignoring my proffered hand, she leans back on her arms and looks at the candle with round eyes. “The flame.”
“What about it?”
