Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
I’d always wondered how I would feel when death came for Knight: the grim reaper, by my own hand.
Would I be as brutal and uncaring as I hoped? Or would the ground jolt, my world shifting until I was tilted, tilting, being canted over and shaken out into the galaxy, then free falling into an abyss of nothingness?
I’d thought about it, dreamed about it, planned for it. It became the reason I woke in the morning, as habitual to me as the intake of breath. And now, the answer, on the tip of my tongue: the erratic, trapped bird caged between my ribs fought to escape. My breathing, a tornado of emotion and drowning.
And yet, my hand—sure and steady.
I stared at the man standing over me, his gaze never leaving my face. Soft, sweet, intense, like a lightning strike to my soul.
I'd imagined this moment for so long. Gun to his head, him begging me not to kill him, apologizing for everything he'd ever done to me.
For killing my bastard parents, then abandoning me when I had nothing and no one else.
For leaving me vulnerable to that man, the one who tortured and controlled me. Even though I’d tried my best to be independent, I’d yet to accomplish it.
And yet, I would never be the woman I was today without Knight’s betrayal.
As I stared into creek-brown eyes, I wanted to laugh. Should I thank him for it? Murmur my gratitude before blasting his brains all over yellow bed sheets?
I could practically hear Rook in my ear, his lips pressed to the flesh of my skin, whispering with all the ferocity and confidence that he always possessed, "Kill the bastard. He deserves it."
That was one thing that Rook and I had in common: we were both obsessed with Knight. How many late nights had we stayed up, me, with a glass of wine in one hand, discussing how to take him down?
Both conflicted, our love for him twisted and mingled with our hate.
It transcended the distance between us: we would never feel for each other as much as we felt for Knight.
It was that wedge that would always keep us eternally apart.
It was one reason I had to do this: we would never rest until he was dead.
But as I pointed the gun at him, smuggled in only because it was plastic, 3D printed, with a ceramic bullet, all I could now was, how dare he?
How could he stare up at me like that?
I could sense it, see it, feel it.
There was no denying the love pouring through his eyes, the acceptance in his gaze, the motherfucking gratitude in them. Towards me.
He was grateful to me.
And for what? For killing him? For cutting his blessed light short?
Was he even real?
Knight had never been the kind of man to take things lying down.
He took what he wanted.
He gave what he wanted.
He left when he wanted.
And it never seemed to matter to him how his actions affected anyone else. Rook and I were both a testament to those facts.
And yet, he dared stare at me with so much passion and love and motherfucking forgiveness that it made my heart stop in my chest. Tears sparked my eyes and overflowed down my face.
Had he felt this way all along? This... love?
Had he been hiding it the whole time? He’d never shown this kind of open emotion to me before.
I shifted, my finger still on the trigger.
It shouldn't matter how he felt.
I was doing this for me. For Rook.
Knight's feelings on his death shouldn't matter.
And yet, I was frozen, my whole body strung tight. My back, legs, hands, and fingers ached.
I'd imagined this so many times, and every time it had gone so simply.
I would stare into his eyes, the goodbye on my lips as I snuffed out the light in his eyes. No hesitation. No regret.
But, my finger wouldn't move.
My arm was beginning to get shaky for holding my position so long.
My mouth was dry, my lips like the desert.
I licked them, tasting the salt from a tear, and could still feel the warm buzzing sensation where he'd brushed them away.
It had felt like he'd been brushing his fingers over my heart, my very soul, when he'd touched me.
I hated it.
Hated him.
Hated how he could still touch me with a gun shoved in his mouth.
I couldn't stand the look of love shining through his eyes.
Rook was right.
We should've killed him under different circumstances. But I'd been so angry when I'd seen that text on his phone, his heart , that I'd wanted to look into his eyes when I did it and watch as I obliterated him into nothingness.
I. Couldn’t. Move.
Maybe I needed him to suffer, to cut all ties with him first.
And so, I lowered the gun.
“No, Tatiana. Don't." For the first time tonight, Knight looked remorseful.
I’d replaced my gun with the pair of scissors.
A petty gratification filled me as I snipped through the ribbon on his wrist, cutting it from his wrist.
Despite the pain filling his gaze, he didn’t stop me as I held it between us.
I wanted to destroy it, and along with it, all of our memories.
I wanted to wipe the very history of our existence together.
Feeling the depth of his love, then the profound silence of his absence, was worse than if I’d never had his love to begin with. It had hollowed me out inside like a never-ending hole, until I was as lifeless as his black heart. More lifeless then when I was on heroin.
There was no stopping me now; I started at the bottom, snipping, snipping, oh so very petty of me , snipping the ribbon into pieces, imagining it was his very heart. And, by the anguished expression on his face, it might as well be.
Bit by bit, piece by piece, I cut him out of my very soul, wrenching every bit of him from me with the snip of the scissors. It was exhilarating, freeing. Loosening his hold over me. I was floating on air.
Horror-struck, his eyes were glued to my hand, the tendrils of red falling between us.
Of all the terrible things I'd done in my life, I'd never felt as powerful in my life as I did right now.
So. Knight could bleed.
I could hurt him, after all.
The ribbon fell to pieces at each snip of the cold metal in my fingers.
So simple.
So powerful.
I was cutting away the very evidence of our connection, and I reveled in it. I was destroying it and him and our history and…
…everything .
Suddenly, as I stared at the tiny pieces of red destruction on his chest, I wasn't so proud of myself.
When had I ever been so petty?
So heartless? So cruel?
So careless with Knight’s heart?
Never.
Despite everything he’d done to me, that would never erase all the good he’d been in my life.
He got me food when I was hungry, bought me clothes when mine were too small.
He kept me company when I was lonely.
He'd held me at night, when I was so high I could barely remember to breathe. He’d been there for me.
He came to see me when everyone else in the city and on the island wanted his attention. Yet, he gave it to a short, skinny, underdeveloped girl who meant nothing to anyone else.
I was nothing, and even though it hadn't lasted, Knight had given me attention, love. Kisses that made my heart ache. Protection that emboldened me, when all the other kids at school would've picked on me, but he'd spread word that if they did, they would answer to him.
He cared for me when no one else did.
Although he'd lost his love for me, it had still been there once, …and now, I'd just erased the evidence of it.
More tears came, sliding down my cheeks, burning my eyes, my ears, my heart. More and more of them, flooding and strangling myself with their intensity.
I wasn't even sure what I was crying about anymore. All I knew is that I just hurt and there was nothing that was going to take this pain from my soul.
I knew it then. I would never escape this. There was no happy ever after for me.
Not even by killing the man whom I loved and hated equally.
A low noise pulled from my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain came dripping, pouring, wresting from my soul.
I was swallowed up like a star, tore apart by the black hole, and there was nothing left of me inside it.
I couldn’t go through with it.
"Shh," fingers on my side pulled me closer, "it's okay." Knight tugged me down onto his chest, wrapping warm, strong arms around me. Holding me close and pressing soft kisses on the top of my head. His thumb stroking down my back.
It felt so familiar, him comforting me, and the fact that I'd just held a gun to him made it so much worse.
He was still taking care of me, after all these years.
I cried harder, pressing my face into his warm body to hide my pain from him.
Tangling his fingers into my hair, his thumb brushing softly over my cheekbone, his fingers trembling as they raked up and down my arm. He made soothing sounds deep in his throat, sounds that trickled over my skin, warm and comforting.
Anywhere he could, he poured his love into me.
And I ate it all up.
I cried and cried, letting out all the pain and anguish, simultaneously wishing I was anywhere but here. Wishing I was floating in a sea of stars among the celestial beings, instead of here in his arms, a gun by my side, his warmth washing over me.
After a long while, I glanced up at him tentatively. He met my gaze, and instead of anger or hatred or even sadness like I expected, it was filled with an unconditional love that rocked me to the core.
How was it possible?
My mind stuttered, useless with this information.
“Tati,” his voice, soft as he bent his face forward.
Our breaths mingled, his like whiskey and mint, our hearts pounding against each other, the feel against my skin vibrant and electric. He brushed his nose across mine in a soft caress. I held my breath, waiting for what I thought might happen, trying to squash the hope rising in me.
“You, polva ,” Still grasping the back of my head, he pulled me to him, kissing me.
Once again, I was falling.
Falling into a dark abyss where I no longer knew what I wanted.
My soul left my body, expanding and dissipating into little tiny molecules where I only existed as a part of the universe.
All thoughts, gone. All memory, mere wisps of what once was and would never be again.
I only existed , left to all time and space to determine my future as he kissed me.
And yet, I clung. Clung to him, my thighs tight against his waist, my fingers threading through the strands of his hair like soft strands of silk, hoping that through my touch, I could trap him there and he would never leave me again.
His tongue in my mouth was probing, as if getting to know me for the very first time, even though his fingers knew every single inch of my skin.
His fist in my hair tightened and then our mouths clashed, teeth thrashing, low groans sounding in our ears as we devoured .
Desperation that I hadn't felt in a long time climbed up my throat, choking off all breath.
I wanted Knight in my life, not these tiny slivers of space and time.
I wanted to wake up in the morning with him by my side, to see his sparkling smile, his beautiful, god-like face turning towards me in the morning light. To feel his body pressed up against mine, his thick cock betraying his need.
And we would lie there for a moment, not doing anything about our lust for each other, but simply being there, in the moment.
Then we would fuck. In the bed, or the shower, or on every surface of the room; against the wall or the door, letting our passion run its course.
We would clean up, laugh over coffee and toast and fresh picked strawberries.
Our phones would beep and we would have to part, each to our own mysterious tasks, maybe still keeping our secrets but still sharing our lives all the same.
Him with his work with the Kings, and me with my girls and reporting to Rook.
And sometimes I would surprise him for lunch or he would whisk me off to a night of dancing and drinking and fucking in one of the private rooms of the clubs because we couldn't keep our hands off each other.
And then we would fall into bed together at night, only to explore secret places once again. To discover the thoughts we kept inside as we lay next to each other, hands pressed together, noses almost touching as the moon moved over the sky until it bled into the orange rays of the day.
I'd loved Knight ever since I could remember, and I would never be able to let go of that.
As we kissed, heartbeats pounding and mingling and melding for the first time in forever, I no longer wanted to escape my life here in Vegas, unless it was with him by my side.
The thought was frightening and electric and exhilarating and hollowed out a hole so big in my chest that the fear bubbled up and I wanted to burst with it.
Because he'd left me, he'd left me, he'd left me , even after his promise to make me the only woman he'd ever wanted to bind himself to. And then he'd fallen in love with another woman and had a child with her, even though his stare burned into me every time we were in the same room together.
I wanted to rip my lips from his and run from this room and never look back.
Panic crawling, fear bubbling, alarm exploding through me.
And yet, his hand fisted in my hair; his lips finally, finally, on mine; his tongue exploring; deep, halting breaths in between kisses, it all kept me in place. Grounded. To him.
I couldn't run, even if I wanted to.
I was trapped in between his chest and his strong arms, holding me in place.
And I knew in that devastating moment that I couldn’t kill him.
Even if Rook put a gun to my head and tried to force me, I couldn't pull the trigger. I loved Knight too much, and would never be strong enough.
"I've wanted to do this," he rasped against my mouth, "for so long."
"Why didn't you?" I was falling, falling.
"Good question," A dark voice broke through the haze of lust between Knight and me. There was a click of a safety going off, and Knight and I froze. "Why didn't you?"
Fuck . I forgot about this part.