Page 104 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

He did this for me. Because of me. The realization settles in my stomach like a stone. This is exactly what I told Emil I didn't want!

"Let him go," I say, my voice shaking. "Right now. Untie him and let him go."

"No."

"Emil, I'm serious. Let him go."

"Not happening." Emil moves to stand beside me, his presence solid and immovable. "For all we know, he could be behind the shootings."

"That's ridiculous." I gesture at Arnie. "He was there both times someone shot at us. He couldn't have anything to do with it."

"He could have hired someone," Emil counters. "Paid a professional to take you out. He was conveniently present at both scenes, which means he knew where you'd be."

"Or it's a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences." Emil's jaw tightens. "We're not letting him go until we know for sure he's not involved."

I stare at him, at this man I've been sleeping with, this man I agreed to marry. The man who just made me come twice in his private pool. And I see a stranger.

"He doesn't deserve to walk this Earth anyway," Emil says quietly. "Not after what he did to you. But out of respect for you, we've kept him alive."

Kept him alive. Out of respect for me. As if that's some kind of gift. As if I should be grateful that Emil hasn't murdered my ex-boyfriend.

As if keeping someone alive is a favor he's doing for me.

I look at Arnie again. He's still squirming, still making those muffled sounds behind the gag. His one good eye is fixed on me, pleading. Begging.

He hurt me. He did terrible things to me. But this? This is something else entirely. This is kidnapping and torture. Bile rushes up to my throat and it's all I can do not to vomit right there.

"Did you think this would make me happy?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you think I'd be grateful?"

He doesn't answer and doesn't see anything wrong with this. He doesn't understand why I'm upset. To him, this is justice and protection. This is what you do for someone you care about.

The nausea rises in my throat, sharp and acidic.

"I can't do this," I whisper.

"Kiera—"

"No." I back away from both of them, from Emil and Luca and the broken man tied to the chair. "I can't. This is too much. This is…"

I can't even find the words. How do I explain that seeing Arnie like this makes me feel complicit? That knowing Emil did this because of what happened to me makes me feel responsible?

And if I stay here, if I marry Emil, that voice will get louder. It will grow until I can't hear anything else. Until I become someone who thinks torture is acceptable. Someone who thinks violence is justice.

"The wedding is off," I say, my voice stronger now. "I'm not marrying you."

40

EMIL

My expression turns grim as her words hang in the air between us.

"No," I say, my voice flat and final. "There's no way I'm letting you out of this wedding."

Kiera's eyes widen. "You can't just⁠—"

"I can. And I am." I nod to Luca, who moves immediately toward her.