I don’t mean for it to, but my whole body goes into a state of shock.
I know because breathing becomes a chore that I have to remind myself to do, and even then, it’s chopped off and choked up.
I know because goosebumps erupt on my skin that ignites at the proximity of his warmth. It doesn’t matter that it’s been over two months since I last saw him.
One encounter.
A few words.
His presence.
And it’s like we haven’t spent a day apart.
My stupid dead heart pulses as if it’s attempting to resurrect itself from the ashes.
I’ve dreaded this moment for weeks, the moment where I have to clash with the only man I’ve ever loved. The man I gave my heart to on a silver platter, only for him to crush it in the palm of his hand.
But I never thought I’d be shaking with emotions like I am right now.
Rage.
Betrayal.
Hate.
But more than anything—fucking disappointment clogs my throat.
I think there’s something wrong with me lately, because I have all these strong feelings that don’t allow me the peace of sleep anymore.
And it’s all because of him.
The man who’s casually standing behind me and has the fucking audacity to call me his wife.
His damn wife is Kristina, not me.
I swing around and simultaneously jump back while lifting my rifle and pointing it at him.
I expect him to point his gun back. After all, even if this is an ambush, Maksim already told him that I’m coming for his life.
Someone like Kirill doesn’t think death applies to him. He’s lived his entire life cheating it and manipulating it to his own advantage.
By feeding the Grim Reaper multiple lives, he’s managed to escape his clutches over and over again.
So when I see him just stand there, one nonchalant hand in his pocket and the other hanging at his side, I’m taken aback.
There’s no weapon or the hint that he’ll use one.
Just like his voice invaded my ear just now, his presence does something a lot worse.
Now, it does feel like I haven’t seen him in ages.
In the semi-darkness, his face looks harsher, and his jaw is more angular. A subtle gleam covers his usually emotionless eyes, shining from beneath the glasses, but his mouth is set in a neutral line.
Stubble covers his cheeks, and it adds a layer of mysterious danger to his already terrifying existence. The jacket stretches against his shoulders, but it looks like he lost some weight, and I hate that I notice that.
His gaze measures me from my feet up to my face, not bothering to pause at the weapon I’m pointing at him. I keep my glare even as a smile breaks on his lips.
Kirill isn’t the type who smiles—at least, not genuinely—so to be a witness to this version of him makes bile rise to my throat.
“It’s really you.” His voice drips with what can only be described as…awe. Disbelief, maybe.
No. Relief.
“You thought you got rid of me?” I snap, unable to control the overwhelming rage flooding my veins.
How dare he look okay after he blew my world to smithereens?
How dare he look at me like when I married him after he stood at the altar with someone else?
I didn’t expect him to be an emotional mess like I was every fucking night, but I’d at least hoped he’d be rattled a little.
Brought down a peg or two.
Something.
Anything.
I’m getting absolutely nothing.
“Too bad for you I didn’t die that day you sent people to blow up the cottage.”
His brow furrows. “What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I send someone to kill my wife?”
“So you could have a second wife.”
He laughs, the sound vaguely amused at best. “Sasha…Sasha…your problem is that you always take things too seriously and at face value.” He pulls his hand from his pocket and I tense, thinking it’s a weapon, but he lifts it up so I can see.
Something glints in the air and my lips part when I make out the ring I put on his finger during our sham wedding.
Why does he have it?
No. This is another tactic of his to destabilize me. Drive me more insane than I thought would be possible.
“You are my wife.”
I snort, feeling my expression close off until it’s too tight to even speak, but I force the words out. “If you think I’ll fall for that, then you’ve really overestimated your abilities, Kirill. What a shame. Seems your new position and life have taken away your critical thinking.”
“Something did, all right, but it’s neither my new position nor my new life.” He pauses and glares at me as if he is the wronged one. “It was your fake death. You got me there, but it won’t happen again.”
“Nothing will happen again. As I said, I’m going to kill you today. For everything you’ve done not only to me, but also to my family, I’m taking revenge.”
“Are you now?” His tone sounds light, amused, as he takes a step forward.
I lift my rifle, my hands steady. “Not another move or I’ll shoot you.”
“Do it.” He taps his chest. “Right here so it’s fatal this time.”
My chin trembles. What the hell is he doing?
Is this another tactic? Will I be ambushed by Viktor or someone else who’s hiding in the bushes?
Will he try to disarm me or shoot me with some gun he’s hidden?
I tighten my hold on the rifle, finger hovering over the trigger. “I’m not falling for that.”
“Falling for what? You said you’ll shoot me and I’m telling you to do it.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
“I didn’t realize there was an open submission box for excuses.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Kirill!” I inhale and exhale heavily in a hopeless attempt to bring my breathing back to normal. “What do you have to say for your actions? I won’t believe you, but let’s hear it. Let’s hear the reasons you thought it was fun to play with me all this time.”
“You already said you won’t believe anything I say, so why should I bother? Since you obviously came here with a sole mission in mind—killing me. Why don’t you get on with it?”
“You asshole…” My voice breaks before I recover it. “You won’t even try?”
“You’re my only wife. I only wanted to reach an agreement with your family due to that fact. I went behind your back because I knew you’d never allow such a meeting to happen. I didn’t try to kill you and never will. I’ve been going fucking crazy for the past couple of months until the moment Maksim said you were alive. I only half believed him until I saw you just now. There. I tried. Do you believe me?”
He says the words with an ease that’s hard to take seriously, let alone believe.
He’s telling me what I want to hear just so he can play with me again.
Fool me again.
This time, kill me for real.
He takes another step forward.
“I told you to stop!” I yell, my voice raw, as if I’ve been screaming for days.
“I won’t. Not now, not ever. You’re my wife and you belong by my side.”
“Fuck you, Kirill. If you think I’ll ever go back to you, or that I feel the slightest affection toward you, then you must’ve really lost your touch.”
“If you don’t feel any affection toward me, then shoot me. That’s the only way to stop me from having you.” He takes another step, slowly, intentionally, as if he doesn’t see the rifle in my hand or my shaking finger on the trigger.
“Stop!”
“Make me stop.”
“You were behind my family’s death. I will kill you!”
“The real person behind your family’s death could be a traitor, but you’re not ready for that conversation.”
“If you take one more step, I’m going to kill you. I swear I will.”
“Why? Because you’re scared that if we touch, you’ll remember that you only ever belonged to me? Not your family, not your duty, fucking me.”
“This is my last warning…” Sweat dampens my temples and upper lip. I’m tasting bile on my tongue as my finger trembles.
“You’re giving an awful lot of chances to someone you claim you hold no affection toward.” He reaches a hand to my face, ignoring the rifle that’s now pressing against his chest.
Where his heart is.
The heart I never had a place in, no matter how much I tried.
The heart that never accepted me, even though mine is full of him.
Before that stupid organ softens, before he can touch me, I lift the rifle higher and pull the trigger.
My chest falls as he flies sideways and blood explodes on his right arm from the gash in his skin. It trickles down to his limp hand—the hand he tried to touch me with.
My heart that I thought was long dead bleeds at the view.
Fuck.
Shit.
Goddammit!
How am I supposed to kill him if I feel like I just shot myself by merely hurting his arm?
Kirill groans, his face contorting, but he doesn’t attempt to stop the bleeding. I made sure not to hit a major artery, but I must’ve shot a minor one because blood is still flowing from the wound.
Instead of getting help or even shooting me back, he gains back the few steps he lost and reaches his left hand toward my face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I point my rifle at his left shoulder keeping him an arm’s length away.
“You.”
“Stay away from me!”
“I can’t. You’re my wife. Till death do us part, remember?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Probably.”
“Kirill, stay away, I mean it.”
“I won’t. I mean it. You can shoot my other arm and I will walk to you. If you take my legs, I’ll crawl to you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“When it comes to you? Possibly.” He pushes against the rifle with impossible strength, considering his right arm is fucked. “So unless you kill me, you won’t be able to stop me.”
I see it then.
In the depths of his arctic eyes that could freeze someone to death.
He means every word. If I don’t put a bullet in his heart or head, he’ll chase me relentlessly.
Until either I kill him or he possesses me.
And that’s terrifying because at this point, I don’t know which one is more likely to come true.
I’d hate myself in both cases.
I lift my rifle and shoot the sky, and just like that, a long, raw scream rips out of my lungs.
Until I nearly lose my voice.
Until my heart metaphorically spills out on the ground.
When I look back at Kirill, he’s watching me with keen interest. His right arm is limp, dripping blood on the ground, but his complete, unwavering attention never leaves me.
I drop the rifle, letting it hang at my chest and glare at him.
“You can’t kill me,” he says it like a declaration.
No. An affirmation.
“You better think carefully about your next words, because they might be the last you say, asshole.”
He offers me his left palm. “Let’s go home and talk about it.”
The audacity of this motherfucker.
Why can’t I shoot him again?
“That’s not thinking carefully, Kirill. Do you have a death wish?”
“Not particularly, but the only option on the table right now is for you to come with me.”
“You’re demented if you think I’ll go anywhere with you.”
“How else will you allow me to change your mind?”
“Nothing you do will make me change my mind.”
“We’ll agree to disagree.”
“Can you stop being so calm about this? Why…just why are you like this when I’m going crazy?”
“If I don’t force myself to be calm, I’m going to fuck you like a savage in the middle of the forest and punish you for all the time I’ve spent without you. But since I assume that’s highly unlikely to happen, I have to be civil.”
My teeth grind together. “You call this civil?”
“You know how I act when I don’t get what I want, so yes, this is fucking civil. For now.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Come home with me, Solnyshko.”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I snap.
“Fine, are you coming?”
“No.”
“You’re my wife, Sasha. You belong with me.”
“I belong anywhere but with you.” Even if I don’t know where the hell that is.
My family’s patience has limits. If I go back after being unable to kill Kirill, Anton will do it and they’ll kick me out.
I’ll have nothing.
“Last attempt at being civil.” He motions at his palm. “Take it.”
“I said no.”
“Very well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He slides his hand in his pocket, brings out his phone, and awkwardly types with one hand, then he shows me a picture of Anton, bound and gagged, blood trickling down his temple.
“No…” I point my rifle at him. “I’ll kill you right now if you don’t release him.”
“Kill me and he’s dead.”
“You fucking monster!”
“I’m fine with being that.” He pockets his phone. “I brought an army here, Sasha. Neither you nor your brother could’ve left.”
“It was supposed to be only me and you.”
“It is only me and you. Always was and always will be. I just made sure there would be no complications, for lack of a better term.”
“As in, you trapped us.”
“I prefer, I took you back. The only way to keep your brother alive is being with me.”
“How dare you—”
“How fucking dare you?” His voice lowers to a frightening edge. “How dare you fake your death on me, leave me, plot against me, and show up to announce you’ll kill me? Did you think I’d let that slide?”
“Don’t talk like a victim when you stabbed me in the back!”
“I never did. You made up your own dramas based on your motherfucking insecurities.” He releases a breath. “But that doesn’t matter now. We’re going home.”
“Let Anton go.”
“Not unless you come with me and stay with me.”
“For how long?”
“There’s no deadline for a marriage, Sasha.”
“Yes, there is. It’s called a divorce and I want one.”
His jaw clenches and his eyes darken to a monstrous color. “No.”
“Then I’m not going with you.”
“I’ll kill your brother.”
“Then I will kill you and hate you forever.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Sasha.”
“Three months.”
“What?”
“In three months, you’ll give me a divorce and we’ll be out of each other’s lives.”
He starts to give his irritating knee-jerk response of ‘No,’ but I lift a hand. “It’s either that or you give me a divorce right now. Your choice.”
“Very well played.” He says it with tension, even as he smiles and offers his hand again. “Take it, wife.”
I slap it out of the way and say as I brush past him, “I’m not your wife, Kirill. I’m your future ex-wife.”
