Deadly Oath

34. Kian

34

KIAN

I don’t sleep well that night. I don’t want to admit that it’s because Sabrina isn’t next to me, because, in the space of only a week, I’ve gotten used to the feeling of her in bed with me. Nor do I want to admit that it’s because my thoughts are filled with her—with what I’ve done to her, the mistakes I’ve made, and how thoroughly I let revenge consume me. Shame fills me every time I go through it, over and over, realizing how blindly I charged forward until I finally acted—and it struck me what I had actually done.

My sister would be ashamed of me. I know that, and I know I would deserve it. The thought of Sabrina leaving me tomorrow, of her walking away and never seeing her again, feels as if my heart is being sliced to ribbons every time. But I can’t see how this ends any other way.

I can’t force her to stay. I can’t keep hurting her. And I can’t imagine a world in which she forgives me.

In the morning, I’m exhausted and groggy. I shower and dress in a clean suit, grateful that my fight the night before didn’t leave much in the way of marks on me. When I walk downstairs, Sabrina is already waiting for me, wearing a striped sweater dress and a pair of tall boots, her hair down and curled, her arms wrapped around her chest. She isn’t looking in my direction, and for a moment, the sight of her takes my breath away.

It’s the first and the last time, I know, I’ll ever see her in my home like this—waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Waiting for me at all.

This could have been different, I think, looking at her. If I had done things differently. But I only ever went to Rivershade in search of revenge. Otherwise, I would never have met Sabrina Petrova.

Sabrina McNeill. Except she isn’t, not really, and after today, I’m sure that will quickly change.

She looks up, and for the briefest of moments, I think I see a flicker of regret in her eyes, too. And then she steps back, looking at me expectantly, and picks up her bag. The bag that has, I expect, the file and recorder in it.

Sabrina says nothing on the ride to the FBI offices. I wait in the lobby as she goes back with two agents, a woman and a man, disappearing down a long hall. I sit, and I pace, before realizing that the FBI office is likely the last place a man like me should appear nervous, and then I sit again. Finally, after what seems like forever, Sabrina reappears.

I stand up, and she crosses the room to me. I can see that she’s been crying; her eyes are reddened at the edges, her mascara smeared. She looks drawn and pale, exceedingly tired, and she swallows hard as she looks up at me. Standing several feet behind her, I see, hovering at the entrance to the hall, is a uniformed male agent.

“It’s done,” she says softly. “You have your revenge, Kian. They’ll move on my father this evening. And I’ll stay here,” she adds, with a touch of firmness in her tone that dares me to go back on our agreement. “Until it’s done. Then, this man—” she nods to the waiting agent, “is going to help me figure out where to relocate.”

A sharp jolt of alarm runs through me. “Are you going back into witness protection?”

Sabrina shakes her head quickly. Her voice is flat, tired, as if she’s worn herself out, and I can imagine that’s the case. “No. With Kariyev in prison and my father headed there, I don’t imagine there’s any reason for it. I don’t think the mafia in Kentucky will chase me down here. Especially with no ransom to seek.” She laughs, but there’s very little humor in it.

I’d pay any price it took to get you back. The thought almost makes it to my lips, but I hold it back. Because the price, I think, is letting her go. If there is a chance I’ll ever see her again, it’s an infinitesimal one. But if I don’t let her leave, there won’t be a chance for us at all.

“I think I might stay in New York,” she says finally. “For a while. After I go home and get my things. But I’ll decide all of that here. When the business with my father is finished.”

I nod, unable to think of what to say. I feel stunned, and Sabrina hesitates, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“Goodbye, Kian,” she says finally, taking a step back. And then, almost as if it’s an afterthought, she reaches down, pulling off her engagement ring and wedding band, and pushing them into my hand. I nearly drop them with the shock of it as she turns to go, and it’s that shock that drives the words out of my mouth.

“I love you, Sabrina.”

She freezes, going absolutely still for a moment. She turns slowly, her eyes glittering—with tears or anger, I can’t be sure. She faces me, and she looks me full in the face.

“What?” she asks softly, and the word, said with such utter confusion, feels like a knife to my heart.

“I love you,” I repeat, speaking quietly so that—I hope—the agent in the hall won’t be able to hear me. “I know I have no right to your forgiveness. I lied to you, and I tricked you, and what I did to you was terrible. I don’t know how you could ever forgive me. But I fell in love with you, too.” My hand closes around the rings, the diamond scrollwork biting into my palm. “And I think—I think despite all of it, some part of you loves me, too.”

Sabrina is staring at me, her mouth open, as if this is the last thing she expected me to say. “Kian?—”

“What if we tried to start over?” The question comes out as desperately as I feel it, and I see her flinch. It’s at that moment that I know what the answer will be. “For?— ”

“Don’t say for the baby .” Sabrina takes another step back. “I need to think, Kian. About all of this. About how I feel. About how much of it was ever, really, real. And I need to decide, for the first time in my life, what my future will be. Alone .”

Without another word, she pivots on her heel, walking to where the agent is waiting. Leaving me there, standing in the lobby, my heart bleeding out of my chest. Watching her walk away.

I want to go after her. I want to tell her that she’s mine, that I once promised her there was no going back in our marriage. That I told her I would never let her go.

But as I watch her leave, turning a corner and disappearing from my sight, I know I can’t follow her. I have to let her walk away.

I have to give up what I wanted more than I’ve ever wanted anything else—first for one reason, and then for another. For revenge…and now for love.

It’s the price I’ll have to pay if I ever want to see her come back to me.