Page 112 of Brutal Knight

And, even though it would never make up for what I'd done to her, if it could give her a fragment of peace, then it would be worth it.

I'd hoped that together we could find our way back to the light again but nothing mattered more than her happiness.

When her posture steeled, I took in a deep breath, remembering the sound of the ocean, the feel of warmth of the sun on my face and the grit of sand on my feet. All things that I loved and were wrapped in memories of her.

Her laugh. Red ribbons fluttering in the wind.

Peace washed over me.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally understood, then the edges turned red, tears pooling in them.

She didn't move to wipe them away, and they trickled over the rim, then dripped down her cheek. I brushed at them with my fingers. "S'kay, m'polva. Do'th."

At this, she stilled, her eyes narrowing on the gun.

Her finger slid to the trigger, determination moving over her face.

I stared up at the woman who owned my heart, a smile trickling upwards, happy that I'd died by her hands and not anyone else’s.

There were a lot of things I regretted in my life, but one of them would never be coming into this building tonight. I only wished that I'd kissed her one last time before she killed me.

Just one last kiss.

There was a tap of her finger on the trigger and I held my breath, waiting for the end.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I’d always wonderedhow 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 tothatman, 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.

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