Page 41 of Her Darkest Possession
Sweat beads on what's left of Grisha's forehead. "I'm sorry," he stammers. "I'm sorry."
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to breathe.
"What are you sorry for?" Indigo asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Grisha tries to answer, but nothing comes out except a gurgling sound.
"What are you sorry for?" she repeats, her voice hardening. "For touching me? For threatening to rape me? For kidnapping my sister? For putting her on a fucking leash?" Her voice rises with each question until she's shouting. "Answer me, Grisha!"
I watch, utterly fascinated. This dark harshness is new. Indigo is transforming into something primal and fierce. It's like watchingthe full fury of a mama bear come to life, and all of it directed at Grisha.
I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
"All of it," Grisha finally manages to choke out. "I'm sorry for all of it."
Indigo's lips purses into a line. "Are you aware of what happens to people who touch me without my husband's permission?"
Grisha nods frantically, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
Indigo takes a step back and turns to me. Our eyes meet and she gives me a nod to proceed.
I step forward. "Which hand did he use to touch you?"
Without hesitation, Indigo points to Grisha's right hand.
"What would you like me to do?" I ask her.
Her eyes never leave mine as she answers. "Make him hurt."
"Vasya," I call out without looking back. "Bring me the cleaver."
Grisha's panic explodes. He howls like a wounded animal, thrashing wildly against his restraints. "NO! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"
His howling shrieks echo off the concrete walls as Vassily places the cleaver in my hand. The weight feels right.
I raise it above my head, my eyes locked with Indigo's the entire time.
The cleaver descends.
And amidst the sound of Grisha's screams, I hear the sound of his hand falling to the floor.
I stare at Grisha's severed hand on the floor, blood pooling beneath it like spilled wine. His screams have turned to whimpers now, a pathetic sound that fills the basement. But that's not what I'm focused on.
"What else would you have me do to him?" I ask Indigo, my voice steady.
She studies Grisha with cold detachment. Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers show nothing but disgust as she watches him rock back and forth, sobbing over his missing hand.
"There's nothing else to do," she says finally. "He can die now."
I turn to her, giving her one last chance to walk away from this darkness. "You don't have to watch this,printsessa."
"I do," she insists, her voice harder than I've ever heard it. "I want to see the life go out of his eyes. I want to know for certain that he won't ever be able to hurt me or my family again."
I nod and turn back to Grisha. His eyes widen as he sees me approach with the cleaver still in hand. Blood drips from the blade, marking my path across the concrete floor.
"Please," he begs, his voice a broken whisper. "Please don't do this. I'm sorry. I'll do anything?—"
