44. Arkadiy
44
ARKADIY
S he knows.
One glance into Mara’s pretty eyes exposes everything.
She knows what I did and how far I will go to protect her. She knows my deepest, darkest secret that has nothing to do with my childhood, and everything to do with ensuring her daughter wasn’t forced to walk down the same dark corridor we were dragged down when we were children.
She knows, and I am as relieved as I am scared.
I take a moment to try to determine the cause of the groove between Mara’s dark brows— is it fear or relief? —before I shut down the personal side of my head and rule with the power I once craved as much as I now do Mara’s touch.
With a click of my fingers, I demand security to my side. “Please escort Mrs. Babkin from the premises. If she attempts re-entry, contact Myasnikov PD to advise them a civilian is impersonating an officer of the law.”
Sanya’s lips twist wryly but she remains quiet, aware she has no ruling here. She doesn’t in the Trudny District anymore, either. She just fails to exert that she was let go from her position if it gets her foot in the door. I only found out when she pushed me so hard I had no choice but to shove back.
Charges are close to being filed.
It won’t be my name on the arrest warrant. Yet.
Once Sanya is walked through the side entrance of the lobby, I shift my focus back to Mara. My heart is pounding, and my palms are drenched with sweat. I want to rush to her, to wipe away the tears on her cheeks, but I can’t get my feet to move.
What if she pulls away?
What is she’s so frightened of the monster I’ve become that she stammers while speaking to me?
God, please don’t let her stutter.
It will kill me to know she fears me. That’s why I pulled back. Just the thought of her being scared of me had me willing to serve life behind bars… or worse, a life without her in it.
I won’t survive knowing she’s frightened of me.
The shutter of cameras clicking draws me out of my stupor. Almost robotically, I push the call button on the elevator and gesture for Mara and Tillie to enter when the doors ding open.
I hold my breath when their feet remain rooted on the glossy marble floor, praying Mara still feels safe enough in my presence to enter the small confines of an elevator with me.
She stares at me, unmoving and unspeaking. Then, just as my lungs are about to scream for air, she unsteadily steps forward.
I snap my eyes shut and suck in the scent of her shampoo before following her inside the elevator. It kills me, but I stand at the far right of the car, giving her the space I’m confident she needs to feel safe in my presence.
I am the monster my mother warned I would become. But only because it was the only way I could keep them safe.
When we reach my apartment, we move through the motions similar to the ones we undertook last week when she was attacked. But this time, with Tillie’s inclusion, we add additional steps I haven’t undertaken since Karolina’s suicide.
We make popcorn and start up the short-throw projector before selecting a channel I had installed when I had the deed of my apartment placed in Mara’s name.
Tillie can feel the tension—it is too blistering to ignore—but after a brief hug with her mother and a quick smirk of encouragement flashed my way, she settles onto the sofa to watch one of her favorite Australian television programs and nervously nibble on her fingernails.
I dip my chin in thanks to Riley when she slips into the living room as Mara and I exit it.
Our steps to my third-floor office are done in silence. I won’t lie. The quiet is killing me. It is so eerily similar to the lack of noise that projected from the bathroom Karolina had entered to wash off the tearstains our stepfather’s sentencing had caused her cheeks.
The slash marks on her wrists when I found her made it obvious that she had been crying.
The truth hangs heavily between Mara and me when we enter my office. I leave the doors wide open, uncaring that my confession may be overheard.
I have every intention of handing myself in. I just can’t do that until I’m confident Mara is safe—both physically and emotionally.
The wayward revenge plot concocted by Dr. Babkin’s wife, who was left with next to nothing when her husband’s victims sued his estate in a civil suit, is compromising her safety.
“Is she…” Mara tightens her arms over her chest, folding into herself. “Is she really Dr. Babkin’s wife?”
I nod, incapable of speaking. Although she more stumbled over her sentence than stuttered her words, I’m still fearful some of the alarm in her eyes centers around me and what I did to protect her.
“Why is she here? What does she want with me?”
When she sways, I gesture for her to sit before she falls.
She refuses.
Not because she is stubborn.
Because she is strong.
“I can do this, Ark. You can trust me to know how much I can and can’t handle.”
Confident I am seconds from losing my battle not to touch her, too enamored by the sturdiness of her backbone not to react, I stuff my hands into my pockets before telling her everything I know.
“My team is still working through some facts, but from what we have gathered, your father was blackmailing Dr. Babkin for years before his death.” She doesn’t speak, move, or blink. She remains perfectly still. “He paid him two million dollars over a three-year period while you were under his care and for several years after it ceased.” Her chest expands with a deep breath when I say, “Dr. Babkin was disinclined to pay once you… became of age .”
I wish I was better with my words, but it is a struggle to speak and not want to go on a rampage. Anger is burning through me, making it hard to do anything but flex and unflex my fists.
I am only achieving the impossible because I need Mara to know why I did what I did. I need her to know I didn’t have a choice. Protecting her and Tillie was my only priority—it still is.
“Your father wasn’t as willing to let things slide. He continued blackmailing Dr. Babkin until his death… and then he went after the money the courts set aside for his daughter.”
Mara’s hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “Dr. Babkin had a daughter?”
I nod. “Yes. She is around a year or two older than Tillie.”
Her eyes search for answers to the question she doesn’t want to ask.
When she fails to get any, she proves how strong she is. “Did he…?”
She exhales a sigh, and in an instant, I know why I reacted the way I did while standing across from the man who was meant to protect her and failed.
Tears flood Mara’s eyes when I confess, “Your father tried to blackmail me. He said he would release footage to the media that would hurt you if I didn’t pay him three million dollars, thus not only outing your abuse for the world to see but the method of Tillie’s conception as well.”
She swallows past the lump in her throat to ensure her words are clear while asking, “Did you pay him?”
She gasps in a sharp breath when I nod.
It is released in a hurry when I murmur, “Then he noticed Tillie in the image that brought him to my door, and everything changed.”
I move to my desk to gather the photograph that has given me more heartache than any of the scars I amassed in my childhood and hand it to Mara.
“I knew.” I force my words through clenched teeth. “I knew the instant he looked at that picture what he had done to you. I could see it in his eyes, smell it on his skin. I saw the monster hiding deep inside him, and I knew he would hurt Tillie the same way if ever given the opportunity. He…”
I stop when I choke on my words, and then shake my head in anger while recalling the gleam his eyes got when he taunted me about getting Tillie’s guardianship placed under his name.
“It wasn’t love in his eyes when he looked at her. It was lust. It was predatory. He wanted to hurt her.” I shift, needing to see her eyes when I confess to my greatest sin to date. “It happened so fast. I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. I killed him because I’d rather he be dead than contemplate what could have happened if he were ever near Tillie.” I fall to my knees, my breaths coming out in a quiver. “And I would do it again in an instant if it were the only way I could protect her. I couldn’t let him hurt her like he had hurt you. I just couldn’t.”
“Ark…” She stares at me like she is truly seeing me for the first time. I’d hang my head in shame if her look gave me any indication that she is ashamed or frightened of me.
Her watch isn’t pronged with fear.
It’s spiked with admiration.
After mirroring my pose, Mara lifts her shaky hands to my face. We share the same air when she brushes away a salty blob on my cheek I didn’t realize was there before she bands her arms around my back. After tucking her head into my neck, she whispers her thanks into my ear on repeat until I stop believing that I am the villain in her story and start seeing myself as the hero.