Chapter 54
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
SLOANE
My hands won’t stop shaking. I sit beside Kirill and stare out the window, my mind running in circles around everything Eli said until it all starts to meld together.
Every memory I have of that night keeps flipping the closer we get to my sister’s house. Old pieces line up in ways they never have before, turning into something uglier every time I look at them.
Kirill doesn’t say much. He just drives, his hand covering mine on the center console, his thumb moving slowly over my knuckles like he knows I’m barely holding myself together. It helps, but not enough. Nothing is going to take this betrayal away.
When the car finally idles outside my sister’s house, I just sit there staring at the front door while my pulse pounds so hard it’s stuck in my throat.
“You don’t have to do this right now,” Kirill says. “Not if you’re not ready.”
I shake my head. “No. I do. This can’t wait.”
We stride up the path together, and Kirill knocks once before the door opens. My sister freezes the second she sees me standing there.
“Uh…hi.” Her eyes bounce between us. “Is Milo okay?”
Something about the question is off. Why would she ask about him like that for no reason?
A cold knot forms in my gut as I step past her without waiting to be invited in. “Why are you asking about Milo?”
She hesitates, closing the door behind us while forcing out a nervous laugh.
“I was just asking because of Eli,” she says quickly. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t try anything.”
“And you know what Eli is capable of, huh?” I take a step toward her.
She starts backing away automatically.
“Because you know him so well…right?”
Her smile falters. “What’s going on, Sloane?”
I keep moving toward her until the backs of her legs hit the sofa and she drops onto it with a startled gasp, while Kirill stays beside me, silent and terrifying.
“What happened to our mother the night she died?”
“Um…you know what happened.”
Kirill reaches down and removes his gun from its holster. “Tell her again.”
The metal catches in the light as he lifts it casually in his hand, and my sister’s eyes go wide, all the color draining out of her face.
“Well…uh, y-you were fighting with Mom about your drinking like always,” she stammers. “Sh-she shoved you and you almost fell in the pool, remember?”
I shake my head. “No.” My voice drops, and real fear flickers across her features. “I don’t. So tell me.”
She clears her throat and keeps going. “You got mad and threw her into the water. Y-you held her face down until she stopped breathing, and by the time I realized she was dead, it was too late.” She tugs on the hem of her shirt, clearing her throat.
“I tried to pull her out while you just stood there, and then we told the cops it was an accident. That we didn’t know she fell since we were inside the house.
Her blood sugar was high that day. They believed she slipped and drowned. ”
Her hands tremble in her lap, and when I catch it, she clasps them. “Why are you asking this?”
“Because…” Kirill steps forward and presses the cold barrel of the gun right between her eyes. “We don’t believe you.”
She inhales a long drag of air.
“So how about you tell that story again?” he continues. “But this time, you tell us the truth.”
“I don’t know what crazy shit you two have heard,” she snaps, trying to recover some of her confidence. “That’s exactly what happened. Since I was the only sober one alive, I’d remember.”
A hot surge flares up in me. “So Eli wasn’t the one who killed our mother with your help?” A humorless laugh slips free. “While you made me believe it was me?”
The reaction is instant. Every drop of color drains from her face. And that’s when I know.
She did it all.
As Camille opens her mouth to speak, Kirill inches the barrel into her throat.
“You will pay for what you did to our boys. To my wife.” His tone grows thick with barely contained wrath.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammers. “I’m calling the cops.”
She tries to stand.
Kirill fires. “I hate liars.”
The bullet tears through her foot, and she collapses back onto the couch with a scream so loud it rattles through me. Before she can make another sound, he shoves a pillow over her face.
“Scream again and I will remove your tongue.”
I have not an ounce of sympathy. She doesn’t deserve it.
“How could you do that to your own nephew?” I ask, my body quivering with so much anger, I can’t contain it. “I could’ve maybe forgiven you for making me believe I killed Mom, but this? This is unforgivable.”
“I don’t know what—”
“If you continue to lie…” I yank the front of her shirt as my face nears her. “I will lose it.”
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind.” She sneers.
“You bitch.” I slap her hard across the face. “Don’t bother pretending anymore. Eli told us everything. About your plan to steal from Kirill, about taking the boys…everything.”
For a second, she just stares at me, looking dumbstruck.
Then her face changes. And she laughs.
“You deserved it,” she spits through clenched teeth. “You always thought you were better than me. Always playing the good daughter while I had to live in that rat-infested shithole, stuck with that pathetic excuse for a family I was unlucky enough to be born into, knowing I deserved more.”
I shake my head. “All Mom ever did was care about you. You’re so sick, it’s actually sad.”
“Go fuck yourself, Eden.” Her foot continues bleeding heavily as she glances down at it, breathing harder now.
“I can’t do that.” I shrug. “You hurt my family.”
My fingers move toward Kirill. Not for his hand. For his gun.
Our eyes meet, and something silent passes between us before he places the weapon in my palm. When my sister sees it, her eyes grow.
“What the hell are you going to do with that?” She snorts. “Kill me? Please. You’re not capable of that. You’re—”
The shot echoes through the room before she can finish.
The bullet tears into her thigh, and the shock on her face twists into another scream before Kirill shoves the pillow against her mouth again.
“Move it,” I tell him. “I want to see her face.”
He drops it with a small smirk.
“You’ve done enough to me and Milo.” I raise the gun until it points at her chest. “You once told me I was a killer.” My finger tightens on the trigger. “I guess you were right.”
The gun fires, and I jolt back.
She stares wide-eyed, disbelief flickering across her face. Then blood spills through her fingers as she clutches her chest, her body shaking while she tries desperately to push the life back inside herself. But it keeps slipping away.
And as I watch my sister die, I don’t feel anything at all. Not anger or relief. Not even sadness.
That comes later. Much later. When we’re already back in the car and the enormity of what I’ve done finally crashes over me.
Because the truth hits all at once. I’m a murderer. And this time…
I remember everything.
KIRILL
When we get home, I guide her into the bathroom, and she doesn’t argue.
She’s barely said a word since we left her sister’s house after my men arrived to clean up and dispose of that woman. I’m sure a betrayal like that will take time to deal with, but I will be here. I will always be here.
I turn the water on and test it with my hand, adjusting it until it’s warm enough before stepping back to her.
“Everything will be okay, solnishko.”
I kiss her shoulder, sliding her shirt off before removing the rest of her clothes, careful not to let this become anything but what it is: me taking care of her.
She sniffles as she steps under the water, and I move in behind her, my arms wrapping around her
“I love you. I’m here.”
She faces me, brows drawn, so much sadness in her eyes that makes me want to destroy everything that hurt her. “I know you are. You’re the only person I have now.”
“You will always have me, moya lyubov.” My love.
With all the gentleness I can muster, I work shampoo into her hair, my fingers moving slowly over her scalp and she closes her eyes and groans.
Turning her again, I let her lean into me while I rinse it out, then work conditioner through the ends, taking my time with it, not rushing anything.
Massaging her shoulders, I kiss her neck.
“This isn’t on you,” I tell her. “You did the right thing. What she did was a death sentence.”
“I know that. I don’t regret it. It’s just…” She pauses, like she’s trying to find the right words.
“What is it?”
“I killed someone. I did that.”
My palms rub up and down her arms. “I could tell you it’s okay. That in time, it will get better. And it will. But only you can come to accept it. You are a good mother. Too good. Not everyone can say that.”
“I love you so much.” She weaves back around, curling her arms around me, her cheek pressed to my chest.
“I’ve got you, malyshka.”
I pull her in, saying nothing else as her cries slam into me. Keeping her under the water, I let it run until her breathing evens out, until the shaking finally eases.
And even then, I don’t let her go.