“Why,” she continued, eyes never leaving mine, “did you choose Seraphina over me?”
The question slid between my ribs with surgical precision.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing myself not to look away.
I didn’t deserve the comfort of escape.
“That night,” I said carefully, “someone let the enemy inside.”
Her brow flickered—just once—but she said nothing.
“I didn’t know it then,” I went on, “but I learned later. It was the Orlovs. They’d been watching us for months—mapping patrols, bribing secondary staff, studying routines. Waiting for a weakness.” I swallowed. “They used Seraphina as the key.”
Her lips tightened.
“She didn’t know,” I said quickly, because that mattered—to her, to the truth. “They approached her under the guise of diplomacy. A quiet discussion about a business alliance. Nothing urgent. Nothing threatening. They fed her false intelligence—told her there was a credible threat against my life that could only be delivered in person. While she was there, they slipped a tracker onto her coat. By the time she crossed the gates, the Orlovs already knew everything.”
My hands curled slowly at my sides as memory surged back, brutal and unrelenting.
“They moved with terrifying precision. No alarms. No chaos. Just shadows.” My jaw tightened. “They neutralized the outer guards first—suppressed shots, nerve agents, knives in the dark. Men I trusted were gone without a sound.”
I exhaled shakily.
“I woke to the bedroom door exploding inward.”
Her breath caught. I heard it.
“You were still on me,” I said, voice dropping despite myself. “Warm. Asleep. We’d just made love.” My throat burned. “The sheets were tangled around us. Your hair was across myshoulder. I remember the smell of your skin—jasmine, salt, the sea drifting in through the open doors.”
I closed my eyes for half a second, then forced them open again.
“I didn’t want them to see you like that. I didn’t want anyone to see you like that.” My voice fractured. “I yanked the sheet up, wrapped it around you, covered every inch of you with my body as I reached for the nightstand.”
I held my fingers apart, showing her the distance.
“I was that close to my Glock.”
My lips twisted. “I never even lifted it.”
The first blow came from behind—hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Then another. Then another.
I felt them again now, phantom pain crawling up my spine.
“They beat me down like I was nothing. Like a stray animal.” My voice roughened. “I screamed at them. Not threats—pleas. I begged.”
I looked at her fully then. “I begged them not to touch you.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“‘Take me,’I kept saying. ‘Take me. Kill me. Just don’t touch her.’”
My voice dropped to a whisper.“I don’t remember when I stopped screaming.”
I paused, swallowing humiliation that still burned years later.
“When I came to, I was blindfolded. My wrists were bound behind my back so tight my hands were numb. They dragged me across a concrete floor—cold, wet, reeking of blood and rot.”
Her fingers curled slowly into her palms.