Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Ariana
Henry’s fingers worked through my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp, his touch soothing and comforting as we soaked in his oversized tub. His thighs bracketed me on either side, his chest a solid wall at my back, the scent of eucalyptus filling the room.
I didn’t speak. Not because I was too numb or raw or vulnerable.
But because, for the first time in years, I felt strangely at peace.
I had no idea how Henry did it. How he always seemed to know exactly what I needed and selflessly gave it to me. Or forced it out of me.
Like earlier, when I’d begged him to take away my pain. When I’d begged him to make me feel something else.
He did…in a way. But he wouldn’t let me stop feeling. Instead, he made me feel. Made me come to terms with everything I’d kept bottled up for ages.
I thought I’d already made my peace with everything Victor had done to me.
I hadn’t.
It took Henry forcing me to release all those emotions I’d locked up tight. To grieve for everything I’d lost because of Victor. To mourn the woman I once was.
Only then could I finally become the woman I was meant to be.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Henry murmured, pulling me back to the present.
“We have taken a bath together before,” I reminded him.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
His thumbs pressed into the base of my skull in slow circles that made me relax into his touch even more.
This was always one of my favorite parts of going to the salon.
Victor had insisted I look the part of his perfect wife, my appearance always curated to suit his demands, which required regular salon visits.
He probably would have changed his mind if he knew how much I looked forward to them just to have three hours to myself. To have three hours where someone pampered me. To have three hours where I could escape the horrors of my reality.
And during those few minutes when my stylist massaged my scalp, it made me forget my troubles.
But having Henry do the same thing felt even better.
Even more personal.
Even more relaxing.
“I’ve always wanted to wash your hair.” He pressed a tender kiss to my shoulder blade. “I like taking care of you.”
I sighed, relishing in the feel of his hands working my scalp. This man had seen me at my lowest of lows. He knew my body in a way I didn’t think any man ever would. Yet having him wash my hair felt much more intimate than anything we’d ever done.
“I like it, too,” I murmured.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his stormy gaze. “I should be the one thanking you.”
He pinched my chin, bringing my lips toward his. “For trusting me to take care of you, Ariana. You have my word I always will.”
There was so much sincerity in his voice it nearly undid me, my throat tightening again. I didn’t know how I could have had any tears left. But these were different tears than before. Tears of admiration. Devotion. Love.
This man had taken me. Pulled me into his world for revenge. And yet his arms had become the safest place I’d ever known.
I touched my lips to his. It wasn’t heated or desperate like earlier. The contact was light, barely there. But I felt so much in that gentle kiss, and I knew his words were true. That he’d always be here for me. He’d always give me what I needed, even if I didn’t realize it.
Just like he did tonight.
A peaceful silence filled the bathroom as he rinsed the shampoo from my hair, warm water cascading over my scalp and down my back. After he finished conditioning my hair, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him.
“Feel better?” he asked, leaving a soft kiss on the top of my head.
“Much.”
“Good.”
I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes as I ran my hand up and down his leg, savoring the silence. In how safe I felt. I’d never experienced this kind of peace before.
“I was confused,” I said, cutting through the quiet.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.
“When you found me in the shower. A part of me thought you’d think I was crazy for feeling confused about what I did to Victor, all things considered.”
He touched my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, averting my gaze. “I guess…” I drew in a deep breath, attempting to find the right words without making him sound callous. “You just seemed so…nonchalant about the people you’ve killed. The Bratva soldiers. Dr. Schaffer.”
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t interrupt, allowing me to say what I needed to.
“I wasn’t prepared to feel the way I did.
I thought I’d feel vindicated or relieved.
And I did.” I leaned my head back against his chest, staring at the wall in front of me.
“The rational part of me knew I did what I had to do. That if I hadn’t, I’d be the one lying in a pool of blood on your living room floor. ”
He tightened his arms around me, as if needing the reminder it wasn’t. That I was alive.
“But another part of me felt this overwhelming sense of shame. I guess I was worried you’d see me as weak.” I drew circles on his leg. “Not the warrior you called me.”
“Listen to me, Ariana,” he began, the determination in his voice forcing my gaze to his. “You will always be a warrior in my eyes. Nothing you do or say or feel will ever change that. Okay?”
He held my stare, forcing me to see the truth in his words. The conviction in his voice left no room for doubt.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” He pulled me against him, a comfortable silence wrapping around us.
The water had begun to cool, but I didn’t make any move to get out. I wanted to stay here. In his arms. In this moment, especially as his thumb lazily drifted over the scars on my stomach.
Even with my eyes closed, I knew what he was writing. Not the word Victor carved into me. Instead, he used this to remind me how he saw me.
As a warrior.
“I threw up,” he murmured.
“When?” I snapped my head back to Henry. “Are you okay?”
His lips curved into a small smile that managed to make my heart race. God, I loved his smile. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, it lit up everything inside me.
“Not today.” He pulled me back against him. “My first time.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard, knowing what he was referring to.
And it wasn’t his first time having sex.
This shouldn’t have been a normal conversation. Most people didn’t swap stories about the first time they took a life.
I was beginning to realize we weren’t a normal couple.
I was surprisingly okay with that. I wouldn’t want him any other way. I probably wouldn’t love him as fiercely as I did if he weren’t exactly the way he was. My very own King of Shadows.
“It confused the hell out of me. I knew if I hadn’t killed my father, I’d either die or end up like him. Neither of those were appealing to me.”
I linked my fingers through his, bringing his arms around my body and squeezing him tight, attempting to offer him the same comfort he provided me.
Comfort I doubted he’d experienced in his formative years.
“I was so fucking nervous,” he admitted with a pained laugh. “I knew I had one shot. If I missed, he’d kill me. But not right away. He’d make me go through one of his twisted games or tests. Force me to survive in the cold and elements with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, hating what he’d endured as a child. Sure, Victor put me through hell, but for your own father to care about your well-being so little as to put you in harm’s way? It was unconscionable.
“It’s been thirty years, but I still remember how damn hard my hands were shaking when I pointed that rifle at him. It felt so heavy, like my arms were ready to give out. I could barely get my finger to stay steady on the trigger.”
The room seemed to grow quieter and quieter as he spoke, his story echoing in the stillness.
“But then Spencer’s frozen body flashed before my eyes.
My mother’s face that was unrecognizable with the bullet wound through her skull.
And I knew I had no choice. Knew if I didn’t pull that trigger, I’d be next.
So I took a deep breath and fired. The world went still.
Including him. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Nothing. I thought I’d missed. It was probably only a matter of seconds, but it felt like a fucking eternity.
Then he finally collapsed to the ground. ”
I exhaled a long breath, physically feeling the relief Henry must have all those years ago. It was akin to the momentary relief I’d felt when I drove that knife into Victor’s chest and watched the life drain from his eyes.
“But because I was nervous, I’d missed my mark,” Henry continued.
“Hit him in the stomach. Not an immediate kill shot. He’d die eventually without treatment.
But it wasn’t an instant death. I could have done the humane thing, like he taught me to do whenever I shot game.
But then I thought of Spencer. Thought of how much he must have suffered out in the cold.
So I made him suffer. Refused to show him the mercy he never gave any of us. ”
There was no pride in his tone. Or triumph.
Just the unvarnished truth of what he’d been forced to do.
“I sat beside him and watched him die. Even when he begged me to put him out of his misery, I refused. I didn’t make him die alone like Spencer did.
Like my mom did. But throughout each excruciating minute as he pleaded for death, I did what he’d trained me to do. I showed him absolutely no emotion.”
I squeezed his hands, tugging his arms even tighter around me, unsure if it was to comfort him or myself.
“When it was over and I’d taken care of the body, I went back to the main house and threw up until there was nothing left. I must have showered at some point, too. I can’t be sure of much. I was in a bit of a fog. Like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life. Not my own.”
I nodded, knowing all too well what that was like. That was what it felt like when I carved into Victor’s skin before driving the knife through his heart. Like I wasn’t myself. Like I was watching someone else kill him.
“I don’t know when I finally snapped out of it,” he added. “Weeks probably.”
“Weeks?” I craned my head back to look at him.
“Maybe more. I don’t know. That time in my life is such a blur. But I do remember one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Something my social worker told me. That if I stayed locked up inside, he’d win.
And I refused to let that bastard continue to control me even from his grave.
” He lowered his lips to mine. “Just like I refuse to let Victor win. Refuse to let him control you from his grave. That’s why I need you to talk to me.
Don’t shut me out. No matter what. Promise me. ”
I turned fully in his arms and straddled him, the water shifting around us. I cupped his cheeks and searched his face, admiring the man who’d been forged in brutality and still somehow learned tenderness.
“I promise you. I won’t let him win. Won’t let him break me. Not anymore.”
He leaned his forehead against mine as he drew my body closer, exhaling a breath of relief.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I finally belonged to myself again.
My mind was quiet.
The ghosts were gone.
And I could finally move on with my life.