Page 119 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

I sit up. “You’re hurt right now.”

He reaches for his holster.

I reach for his hand. “You can’t make rash decisions while you’re hurt.”

“This is justice.”

He draws his gun. He stands up. He looks at Gennadiy.

And then he walks out of the den.

I launch from the couch to chase after him, running into Gennadiy’s arm on the way to the foyer. What else did I expect? Pavel won’t allow me into that room—or basement. Or office. Or wherever the hell he put Sharp.

He won’t allow me to do a damn thing other than exist right now.

Is this what it feels like to get pushed out?

“Pavel!” I shout. “Don’t do it!”

But it’s useless. I know it’s useless.

I know my husband is going to do whatever he wants. Hasn’t he always done that?

Gennadiy restrains me until a door shuts. Then he guides me into the foyer and up the spiral staircase. I don’t fight him this time. I just keep peering over my shoulder like I’m waiting for Pavel to reappear and say it’s all just some misunderstanding.

I want him to say I’m right. I want him to listen to me.

But I know he won’t.

Wishful thinking—I live in the future, just like he said. An idealistic future that has no right existing in the world I currently occupy. I dream of a life at peace, but I’m trapped in the nightmare of war.

As soon as Gennadiy deposits me in the main bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed and rest my hands on either side of me. Gennadiy stands in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. My bladder screams.

But I can’t seem to honor my body’s needs. How can I when a man is about to be executed downstairs?

He deserves it.A vindictive voice whispers in my ear.He deserves to die.

But this is not the correct decision to make. This could topple everything.

It could even topple Pavel.

My mind pictures the scene, sets the pace, and writes the dialogue. I can only imagine the rage Pavel is inflicting on the captain right now. I continue imagining what must be happening, painting vivid details of my mind—Pavel holding Sharp up by his collars, his knuckles stained red with blood.

The boom of a single gunshot snaps me back to reality.

It almost sounds like a door slamming shut. But I know better. I realize the heavy intent behind it, the weight of the sound clapping through the foyer.

The dreadful silence that follows.

And just like that, it’s done.

Gennadiy steps away from the door. Even he understands that it’s pointless for him to keep standing guard. I don’t move from the bed. I stare at the floor and try to think through the fog of grief in my brain.

Part of me feels satisfied. Justice is served for Viktoria. In many ways, her death will never be absolved in my brain. But for Pavel, it will be. Blood for blood, and Sharp has paid the price.

And that’s good enough.

My features twist with disgust at the thought.

---