Page 110 of Her Darkest Possession
"It's my fault. What happened to Vassily and what happened to your home." My voice cracks. "If I'd just been ruthless with Valentina instead of showing her mercy, she wouldn't have gone to Lola."
I force myself to pull back to meet Anatoly's gaze.
The confession doesn't come easy, but it's been on my mind ever since we left from the burning wreckage of the mansion.
"And Vassily might still be alive."
Anatoly's expression is unreadable as he studies my face.
For a heartbeat that stretches into eternity, I'm afraid he might agree with me. That he might look at me and finally see what everyone has accused me of all along: that I'm not cut out for this world.
That I reallyamthe reason for everything that has gone wrong in his life.
But then he shakes his head.
"No." He takes my face between his palms. "This isn't your fault."
"But—"
"But nothing." He interrupts me. "What my mother chose to do with that mercy was her decision alone. It's not your fault that you showed her mercy and she chose to throw it back in our faces."
"But I should've guessed that she might do something like this."
"So should have I," he replies. "But you're not the only one who chose mercy for her. I did too. I had her put a gun to her head only to let her live at the end of it. Both of us showed her mercy when she deserved none, and now both of us are paying the same price for it. I won't let you blame only yourself."
I nod slowly, accepting his words that absolve me of my guilt, even if I'm not fully ready to do so to myself just yet.
The weight of the day still presses down on me, but at least I can breathe a little easier knowing Anatoly doesn't blame me.
"What happens now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "What's our next move?"
Anatoly's eyes glances over to my parents' old bedroom, where Roma is still murmuring into his phone.
"Roma's making calls," Anatoly says. "Checking on the overall status of our operations after what just happened. Our firstpriority is to make sure that the bratva can still function for one final strike."
A shiver rushes down my spine at the certainty in his voice. I recognize that tone. It's the same one that he used when he once looked up at me from between my legs and promised me the hands of the man who left the scars on my thighs.
"You intend to end this war," I say. It's not a question. "Once and for all."
"Once and for all."
The pieces click together in my mind.
"You're going to kill Valentina and Taras Volkov."
"Yes." His voice is ice. "Both of them at the same time."
"How?" I ask, not because I disapprove, but because I want to understand just what his plans are. "It's not like you can just walk into Volkov territory and expect to walk out easily."
"That's true, it won't be easy. Taras will likely be holed up with as many guards as he can surround himself with, especially once he learns what happened to his precious daughter."
"But the Bratva has taken losses. Where will you get the people that you need to pull this off?"
Anatoly ponders my question, his eyes growing distant. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and deliberate.
"Killian O'Shea."
"The same Killian that Grisha wanted to sell Amara to?"
