Page 93 of His Contract Queen

They give me space to make my choice.

Control against a person who never allowed me that kind of luxury.

Ramil’s eye widens. The confusion vanishes as panic floods in, fast and ugly. “No,” he chokes. “Katya—no. Please. I’ll disappear. I’ll leave the country. You’ll never hear from me again. I’ll live in obscurity. I swear it. Just—please. Mercy. For your mother. She wouldn’t want you to do this.”

The mention of Mama twists something vicious in my chest.

I snap, the words coming out low and lethal sounding. “Don’t you dare use her name.”

He swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs.

My hand squeezes the gun, flexing my fingers to comfort me. “Tell me this much. When did it start? When did you decide I was worth less than your debts? Was it the first time you sat at a table and lost more than you could afford but couldn’t find the right buyer? Or did it happen slower? Did you look at me every morning and think, ‘One day, she’ll be useful for something’?”

His mouth opens, closes. “It wasn’t like that. I was… protecting our family name. The debts—they were temporary. I would have fixed it. I always fix things. I would have gotten you out.”

“You sold me,” I say, raising the gun to point it at him. “You sold me to a manyoucalled a monster. You lied to my face. And when I did what you asked—when I spied and gave you the information you wanted and waited for your orders—you abandoned me. You left me there with nothing.”

His face crumples. “I had no choice. The truth getting out would have ruined me. Everything we’ve built?—”

“Everythingyoubuilt,” I repeat. “Not us. Not me.You.” I take one step closer. The gun stays steady in my hand. “Did you ever love me? Or was I just another asset? Another thing to trade when the cards were against you?”

He stares at me.

For the first time, I see something flicker behind the panic. Not remorse, not quite. But something close to sorrow. That the man who raised me is gone. Whatever fragment of him still existed died long before tonight. But that look in his eyes makes the hand around the gun hesitate to pull the trigger.

I hate myself for it.

“I loved you,” he says. The words are hoarse. “In my own way.”

“Liar,” I spit back.

Bitterness rises in his voice. “You think you’re so different? Standing there with a gun pointed at the man who raised you. Your own flesh and blood. You’re just like them now. You chose power over your own blood. Just like I did. We’re no different from each other, Katerina.”

The accusation should hurt, but strangely… it doesn’t.

Because he’s wrong.

I stand here not because I chose power, but because I chose love.

I raise the gun and level the barrel directly at his chest.

He flinches.

My voice is steady when I speak. “You are a disgrace. You shamed our name. You destroyed everything you ever claimed to stand for. And you did it without a second thought. I hope you rot in hell.”

His mouth opens one last time.

I pull the trigger.

The shot is deafening in the small room. The recoil jars up my arm, snapping my shoulder. Ramil jerks backward. His head snaps back, blood bursting from his chest and blooming dark across his shirt. Then he slumps forward, held upright only by the zip ties tethering him to the chair.

The silence that follows is absolute.

My knees buckle.

Aleksandr is there before I hit the floor. His arms wrap around me, strong and steady, catching my weight as the gun slips from my fingers and clatters to the concrete. He holds me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other locked around my waist.

I don’t cry. The tears are there burning behind my eyes, but they don’t fall while the finality settles around me like ash after a fire.