Page 110 of Brutal Knight

When I opened my eyes,pain pounded through my head like a pulsing, beating heart. I groaned, blinking.

The room was too bright and I squinted, trying to gain my bearings.

I was in a very familiar looking room, one I hadn't seen for years. With mint green walls, white flowing curtains, clashing navy blue and green tiled flooring, and rickety furniture.

Things suddenly clicked into place, an unused room in the building, paid several years in advance, suddenly becoming active again. I hadn’t paid attention, these things happened, but I should’ve known.

I was thrown back in time, when things in my life were much more simple –– with the exception of a small fridge in the corner, the room was an exact replica of hers in Cuba.

“Looks like you took a sentimental page from Rook's book." My words were still slurred from the drugs and it came out as an unintelligible garble, but she understood me anyways. She always could.

“It seemed fitting." Tatiana didn't smile. She was sitting on top of me, legs straddling my hips, her knees digging into the lumpy mattress. She was still wearing the black corset, her breasts tight and spilling from the top. The bullet wound in her shoulder only added to her alluring sexuality –– a dangerous siren, able to wrench my heart from my chest with a soft look.

"For what?" I asked.

"To bring you back to the beginning."

"Of what?” I shuffled to stop a spring from the mattress digging into my back. The sound of the safety clicking off made me still. I'd been ignoring the gun, once again, in her hands. Rope and scissors next to her thigh.

She hadn't decided what she would do with me by the time I'd woken, but it looked like she'd suddenly made up her mind.

"The beginning of your ending." She leaned over, shoving it in my mouth, and I could only stare up at her.

With her stark black hair and midnight blue eyes, she looked like a raven queen, a goddess.

Not because she literally held my life in her hands, but because she did, and always would, own my heart.

Suddenly, everything in my life zeroed in to focus on her.

All the troubles with the cartel, the deaths that had happened in my life, Coulter and Bourbon and their territory. Even Rook, who Iknewwas intimately involved in all this, was nothing when facing down my own death by the woman I loved. And yet, I didn't regret it.

Yes, I regretted all the terrible things I'd done to her:

Not saving her from her parents, or acting on my hatred for them, despite what she'd asked of me.

Not holding her hand, accepting her comfort when she approached me at the funeral.

Not taking her away from Cuba the day I left.

Not coming back for her, even though I’d thought of her every damn day since then.

Not keeping my word and marrying her as soon as possible.

Not claiming her the moment she arrived in Las Vegas. For letting Rook get in between us; for playing their games.

But, those were old regrets, ones I felt every day of my life.

Butthis, here, now, I didn't regret it one bit.

Giving her this power over me.

Killing Carlos in retribution for what they'd done to her.

Betraying my mafia family by showing up, concocting this plan.

Allowing her to, somehow, get a gun in here.

Being distracted by her touch only moments earlier.

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