[REBECCA]
The truth of my deeds weighed heavily upon me, a burden I could no longer deny. The agony of Raffaele’s suffering, the starkness of my own actions, engulfed me in a tempest of emotions that seemed unending.
“I understand. Your courage within those walls was truly remarkable, almost ethereal, like a vengeful angel,” he whispered. “My admiration and pride for you know no bounds.”
A sense of dizziness washed over me, causing me to lean into Artemy for support as my energy waned.
“I never wished for you to witness his state like this. I comprehend your desire to bring him to his end, Angel. Yet, the aftermath of such an act is something you might find difficult to bear,” Artemy spoke, his voice a gentle murmur infused with deep comprehension.
“Taking a life is an enduring struggle, an indelible scar on your conscience. Despite his deserving fate, the weight of snuffing out another’s existence will forever linger on your hands,” he continued with a soothing tone.
I stifled a sob, clutching Artemy more tightly, finding solace in his understanding. He saw through me, an open book read effortlessly by his perceptive eyes.
There were instances when I believed he knew me better than I knew myself.
“While I draw breath, I don’t wish for you to sully your hands. Allow me to shoulder this burden,” Artemy paused, cradling my cheeks in his palms. Gently, he tilted my face upwards, locking his gaze with mine.
“Permit me to be the harbinger of your vengeance. Let me be the one who delivers death in your name, Angel.”
A nod passed between us, unspoken words laden with consent. Our lips met in a kiss, tender and delicate, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding us.
As we parted, my hand found its place over his racing heart, its rhythm synchronizing with mine. We breathed together, locked in an unbroken gaze.
“Make him pay, Artemy. I want him to suffer… to endure the agony he inflicted upon me,” my voice quivered. “Does that darken my soul? Wishing for another’s demise?”
Artemy shook his head, conviction lighting his eyes. “Never. His just deserts are warranted, and he shall receive them. Once I’m through, he won’t even have the chance to plead for his own death.”
I brushed away tears, gathering my resolve. “All I yearn for is to be free from his grasp. To ensure our safety, especially our princess’.”
“He will never harm you again,” Artemy vowed. Our lips met once more, tongues entwining, the passion in our kiss mirroring the turmoil within. Artemy deepened the kiss, and I held him closer.
A fierce kick from within my belly drew our attention. Artemy stepped back, concern etching his features. “Goodness, that was quite the kick. Is she practicing her moves?”
“You felt it?” I queried.
He nodded, gently rubbing my swollen belly. “Head upstairs, take a soothing shower. I’ll come to you tonight. Wait for me in the piano room,” Artemy commanded, a touch of tenderness flickering in his eyes.
His countenance had shifted, the gentleness fading. My tender lover had receded, replaced by a man consumed by retribution and the thirst for blood.
I had grown to cherish this facet of Artemy too.
Now, I would bide my time for the return of my gentle lover.
In the interim, I would allow him to unleash havoc.
I placed a lingering kiss upon his lips. “Do what you must, Artemy.”
***
As I ascended the staircase, a persistent ache gnawed at my back, extending its grip even to the soles of my feet. Oddly, the discomfort was puzzling, given my rather uneventful day. I had been confined, restricted from engaging in any activity of consequence. The bed and the couch had become my enforced domain, an irksome limitation that left me exasperated.
A sigh escaped my lips, accompanied by a weary droop of my shoulders. Monotony had settled in, further exacerbated by the absence of Artemy. The passage of eighteen hours without him felt like an eternity. The previous night held our last encounter, marked by my serenade on the piano, a cherished memory. Subsequently, slumber claimed us both.
But the current morning greeted me with a chill where Artemy’s warmth had been. The void beside me hinted that he had left during my slumber, his departure a stealthy maneuver. There was no trace of his presence, an emptiness that crept into the night. His entire day had been swallowed by the basement, a reality I struggled to disregard.
I feigned indifference, painting a facade that portrayed him preoccupied with other matters, any matters besides the specific affair I knew consumed him. The shivers still skittered across my skin when I contemplated my involvement with Raffaele. Though just one bullet, the echoes of his agonized cries reverberated within me. Artemy’s methods had plunged him into torment, a reality beyond imagining.
Nausea should have accompanied these reflections, but curiously, remorse failed to find a home within me. Fear certainly had its grip, yet guilt remained elusive. Raffaele’s actions warranted retribution, and the climax of that reckoning was nigh.
Upon arriving at the landing, I paused, inhaling deeply to quell the discomfort that clung to me. My aching back pleaded for respite, and I embarked towards the piano room, a sanctuary of sorts.
“Leon, you can depart now. Artemy will return shortly,” I announced upon reaching the room’s threshold. A challenge emerged in the form of his response.
“Boss’s directive-” I preemptively cut off his words with a steadfast shake of my head.
“I am fully aware of his orders, but my request is for just a brief interlude. Rest beckons for you, wearied sentinel,” I interjected with a conciliatory smile.
Leon’s refusal was adamant. “I regretfully cannot comply. You mustn’t be left unattended. Boss’s instructions are clear, and I am your appointed guardian for now.”
Frustration ignited within me, the product of enduring this watchful shadow since Raffaele’s captivity. Every step shadowed, my actions trailed by Leon, Brayden, or Avim.
They were a constant, vigilant presence, like a trio of sentinels eternally stationed at my periphery.
“Artemy will be here imminently,” I pleaded, my voice a note of reason. Yet a disquiet festered, a discomfort woven from this perpetual scrutiny.
“I shall withdraw once he stands guard over you,” Leon’s stance hardened, adopting a protective posture with hands clasped behind him. The rigidity of his countenance reminded me of Avim-a stark resemblance, bound by their familial connection. Particularly, Leon’s somber expression mirrored his cousin’s when faced with gravity.
“Stubborn men,” I muttered in an undertone, a concession to the challenging predicament.
“Your safety brings him solace. Consider granting him this assurance, Rebecca.”
With a defeated posture, I let out a sigh that carried the weight of understanding, even if it didn’t signify agreement. Inside me, an unusual sensation brewed-a tightness in my chest-as I contemplated the idea of these men being my protectors. It was as if their own lives held little value compared to the safeguarding of mine.
Their devotion seemed to orbit solely around me-my safety, my needs-a realization that cast a shadow of melancholy, suggesting that they might prioritize me over their own well-being.
Leon, sensing the shift in my emotions, responded with a kind smile. “Rebecca, you bear our future. This baby isn’t just an individual; it carries on the legacy of the Loskutov family. Your security and that of our child take precedence. We’re not guarding you out of obligation to the Boss; we do it because we genuinely want to.”
Every word he spoke resonated with logic. “I comprehend,” I whispered, my gaze wandering to the staircase.
Before I saw him, I sensed his presence-an anticipatory rush, a flutter in my stomach, a rush of giddiness. Was this the sensation people referred to as butterflies? It accompanied thoughts of Artemy or glimpses of him, even just hearing his name.
When our eyes met, my lips instinctively curved into a smile, and as if in a trance, I moved towards him. His arms opened, and I nestled into his embrace; he had this effect on me, an irresistible pull that defied resistance.
The attraction I felt was undeniable, a force that transcended any inhibitions, one that I had no intention of opposing. Instead, I embraced it, wanting to revel in his presence, to exist within him.
“You can leave,” Artemy’s voice sliced through the air, its sternness grating on my ears. My eyes snapped open, my grip on him tightening.
“Boss.” Leon acknowledged the command with a nod and retreated, though not without a slight bow in our direction.
My gaze remained fixed on Artemy, who appeared devoid of emotion. It was then that I sensed the shadowy aura encasing us, the atmosphere growing cold. His countenance had hardened, his eyes emanating a dangerous gleam, a hint of malevolence enveloping him.
As his gaze met mine, his expression remained unchanged. He lowered his head, our lips nearly touching, before melding in a breathy kiss. The connection began gently and then intensified as his lips pressed more firmly, demanding entrance.
My lips yielded, allowing his tongue to explore before meeting my own. A moan escaped into our kiss, and I found myself on my toes, drawn into him.
When he finally pulled away, I was left breathless, a craving for more pulsating within me. I gazed up at him, feeling flushed.
But his eyes were devoid of emotion.
My tender lover was still lost. The realization pierced me.
I yearned for him, for his return.
Yet, I understood he wouldn’t resurface until Raffaele was eliminated. This facet of him was something I had to become accustomed to-a killer, the Pakhan, ruthless and unfeeling.
With a sigh, I entwined my fingers with his, his focus steadfastly on my face. Some things would never change.
His attention-whenever he was with me, it was solely on me. In the same room, his gaze remained locked on me. Always.
“Let’s go. I want to play something for you,” I suggested, tugging him towards the piano room.
Artemy settled on the couch as I positioned myself at the piano.
Princess moved about, displaying an almost eager anticipation, as I rested my fingers on the piano keys. As the melody flowed, it cocooned us in a gentle wave. The little one settled, seemingly soothed by the music.
My gaze fixated on Artemy, and I observed him reclining comfortably in his seat. His unwavering gaze remained locked onto mine, and I basked in the knowledge that his undivided attention was mine and mine alone.
He belonged to me, just as I belonged to him. We melded together seamlessly.
As the first song concluded, I took a pause. A gentle kick from the baby inside me elicited a soft chuckle from my lips. With a tender touch, I caressed my hand over my swollen abdomen. “Do you enjoy listening to me play?” I murmured, my fingers tracing the curve.
Another vigorous kick, a tangible response.
Resuming my melody, the baby’s movements stilled once again, mirroring its father’s tranquil disposition. This observation flitted through my mind as I began another tune.
In the midst of my music, I entertained the thought that the baby inherited its father’s disposition. These musings lingered as I progressed to a third song.
Concluding my performance, I gracefully approached Artemy. In his embrace, he pulled me onto his lap, enfolding me with his arms.