Page 48 of Brutal Truths

“Rape me?” Lowering her cup, she cradles it with both hands. “No. He tried. The one I killed. But I fought with everything I had in me. Got lucky. Grabbed a shard from the broken vase before he tossed me on the bed.” Her grip tightens, slightly. “If I hadn’t… you would have witnessed it firsthand when you barged into the room. That would’ve fucked both of us up.”

Her eyes find mine, steady despite everything. “How do you do it? Kill a man without feeling guilty?”

I take the mug from her, setting it aside before turning toward her fully. When she lifts troubled eyes to meet mine, I gently cup her neck, my thumb caressing along her throat, doing my best not to glare at the healing fingerprints left behind by that sick bastard.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m a doctor. My job is to save lives, not end them.” Her eyes take on a new, unwelcome iciness. “I aimed for his jugular because I knew that would be fatal. I stayed there, pinned beneath him while he bled out on top of me. When his body became heavier, relief washed over me. The stench of death filled my lungs, and this time, I didn’t fight it. I welcomed it. Found comfort in its familiarity.”

Her tears fall, each one heavy, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

“Come here.” Gently pulling her onto my lap, I hold her close, tracing my fingers down her spine before intertwining our hands. “Listen to me. You only did what you had to do. You survived. He doesn’t get your guilt.”

My jaw tightens as I force the rest out, quieter now. “If it had been me, he wouldn’t have died so quickly. He should’ve suffered. Begged for death. Known what was coming before it ended.”

I lean in and press my lips to the side of her head. “Don’t waste a single tear on him.”

She sniffles against my chest. “The blood… I can still smell it on me. Will it ever go away?”

I wish I could tell her yes, but the truth is, I don’t think it does. I’ve killed more than my share of men, and the stains of their blood haunt me most nights.

“It fades,” I say instead. “You learn to come to terms with it. Death can be a blessing and a curse. When it creeps in, focus on what you stopped. Think about the ones you saved. You weren’t his first, and you wouldn’t have been his last.”

When she shifts in my arms, I glance down and wipe away her last tear. “We need to talk about why they took you. Do you know why?”

“Do you?” Her brows draw together. “How long have you known?”

“Known what exactly?”

She leans forward, changing her posture so she can look me directly in the eyes. “Don’t be coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. How long?”

“Easy.” My hands settle at her waist, steadying her. “Tell me what you know, and I promise to fill in the rest.”

I pause, then add, “And for the record, I haven’t known long. I stumbled upon some papers in your grandfather’s office. I’ve learned more since then. But I’m not guessing blind anymore. I need to know what you know.”

“I don’t even know if it’s real. It could be a setup to get me to turn on my family. I only saw one document, but it could’ve been a forgery.”

She’s watching me. Testing. Waiting for me to slip.

“What did you see? Who showed it to you?”

Exasperated, she pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Rurik slipped a folder under my door after we had words. Told me he was my father. Said it had all the answers.”

A bitter edge slips into her tone. “At first, I didn’t open it. Threw it across the room. But curiosity got the better of me. When I studied the pile, one page caught my eye.”

She bites down on her lower lip, drawing a deep, shaky breath that catches in her throat. “Adoption papers. Mine.”

I don’t react. Not outwardly.

“And that’s all you saw?”

Her nod reveals the pain and confusion she’s been burdened with ever since.

“I’ve seen them,” I say quietly. “Same papers.”

Her eyes snap to mine.

“Are they authentic? I don’t know yet,” I continue. “But I know who can verify them.”