Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Galina

A handful of days had passed since Arlo claimed me, since I gave myself to a man for the first time.

Since he ruined me for all others and had put an invisible brand on me that deemed me as only his.

Even now I was still thinking about that first time… and the days that followed, how he'd taken me every night in his bed, in the shower, from behind, as I rode him. Being with Arlo was untamed, like we were two animals rutting together, sweaty and desperate, both needing to get off because it would be the final completion of bringing us together.

It had been wild and dirty. It had been aggressive and violent.

It was perfect.

And although all I wanted to do was stay wrapped in that fairy tale where the villain had made me his and I never had to worry about the what-ifs, reality was crashing back into me.

I stared out at the sight of Vegas. It had the same feel for me as it always did. Desperation, longing… hunger. It was a thick, sticky feeling that coated a person from head to toe, trying to suck them in with the flashing lights, the promise of euphoria and pleasure, the lie that if you just stayed a little bit longer, you'd fall in love.

A beautiful lie. For me at least.

But I knew there were the stupid in the world who embraced it all, if only for a moment in time. They'd get lost in how pretty things were on the outside, not knowing that if they dug a little deeper, they'd come to the rotten center. But I'd never been fooled, not when I spent my whole life nestled away in the slums where the beauty of what could be never touched you.

We'd taken a private jet from Desolation to Vegas almost two nights after Arlo killed Leonid. I wanted to tell him it was too soon, to let me think about this, for us to try to figure something else out. It wasn't that I was averse to him taking out Henry. In fact, when I thought about it, this sense of all things right filled me. And that scared me, terrified me that I was comfortable with the grit and destruction that came with the man I loved.

Because the truth was, I was sick in the head because I wanted Henry gone. I wanted my father to see the repercussions of what would happen if he tried to hurt me. I wanted Arlo to show everyone what he was capable of.

I didn't want to seem weak, never had been in my entire life, but for the first time ever, I felt as if I was cocooned in this bubble, as if I lived this whole other life. Feminists around the world would probably skin me alive at how much I loved the lengths Arlo would go to, to ensure my safety.

"It's time," Arlo said in his signature deep and gravelly voice from behind me.

I turned around but didn't move closer, feet upon feet separating us as he stood shrouded in shadows on the other end of the hotel room. He was magnificent and beautiful as I took in the suit he wore, a dark and expensive visage of what he really was.

A professional killer. A violent murderer with no remorse. A sociopath perhaps.

The man I love.

I made my way toward him until mere inches were the only thing keeping us apart.

"I'll say it again… I think it's best if you don't come so that you don't see what's going to happen."

I licked my lips and shook my head. He'd tried to tell me I wasn't going with him tonight—demanded I stay safely in the hotel room, more accurately. But if this was really going down, I had to be there. For my peace of mind and to close this chapter in my life.

"I'm coming," I said firmly—finally—and kicked up my chin in defiance, which had the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement despite the seriousness of the situation. He lifted his hand and cupped the side of my face. His expression softened.

"Grown men don't even have the balls to defy me." He leaned in and kissed me slowly and thoroughly, and I melted into him like I always did. "Your strength is one of the reasons I love you so fiercely." His words were low and deep and murmured against my mouth, and my pulse did a flip in my chest.

My heart pounded in my chest at his words. "I love you," I said, the words sounding like they'd been torn from me and rend me in half.

He pulled back, and I immediately rested my forehead on the center of his chest, breathing in his scent. I loved this man so much it physically hurt, and although I knew nothing would happen to him because he was so strong and stubborn, so dangerous that even death feared him, my breath still hitched at the thought of losing him.

"There's no need for fear," he said softly and kissed the crown of my head. "Don't you know I'm the monster all other monsters fear?"

I smiled although I felt no humor in the way he teased, even if I knew he did it for my benefit.

"Come on. Let's get this over with."

I pulled back and looked up at him. I wanted the demons to stay firmly in the shadows. Yet I didn't want to ever look over my shoulder and worry someone would take me away from Arlo. And the only way to ensure our future was secure and our relationship stronger than ever was to have more bloodshed and bury the bodies of the past.

God, who was the woman I'd become, one who was okay with killing to ensure my life was safe?

A survivor. I'm a survivor, and I'll do anything to make sure I stay by Arlo's side.

After one more kiss, he led me out of the hotel room and down to the BMW that had been waiting for us at the airstrip once we landed. I didn't have to give Arlo any information about Henry or my father, and he'd never asked. Whatever connections he had, Arlo had obviously gotten the details he needed, and that was clear as we left the Strip and headed to Fremont Street.

The older part of Vegas came into view, a relic of the past yet still popular to tourists in the way they held on to a memento from a different time. But soon that facade started to wane the deeper we drove, the farther we went into the gritty part of what the city offered, where buildings were dilapidated, businesses run-down, broken windows and broken-down lives, with half-naked women standing on the corner of streets, smoking cigarettes and suggestively asking for "company tonight."

I felt myself get pulled back down to the only place I'd ever called "home," and I hated it. I felt nauseous in the way it was heavy inside me, like this other presence trying to take root in my soul.

I was staring out the passenger window when I felt Arlo's hand cover mine that rested on my thigh. I looked over at him, but he was firmly focused on the street ahead. I wasn't surprised he'd been able to sense my turbulent emotions. We were connected in a way I'd never understand but was forever grateful for.

He tightened his fingers on my hand, and I lifted my other to place my palm over his, the warmth and strength that poured from Arlo enough to have a semblance of calm washing over me. But even that soothing sensation couldn't fully extinguish my bone-deep fear of what was happening next.

The broken part of Vegas was like another world on its own with how things worked. It was like Desolation in that sense, with life lost in the deepest parts, swallowed whole and decaying in the underbelly of what used to be a thriving society.

I didn't know how long we drove, but it was done in silence. I looked over at Arlo again, seeing and sensing the change in him the closer we got to wherever our destination was. His body was tighter, his concentration sharper. He had retreated to some hidden part of himself where emotions couldn't touch, where he was a machine without feeling and only had cold, dead calculation as his compass. I focused out the windshield again, because if I thought about this too hard, I'd have to retreat into myself to get through this.

It was another five minutes before Arlo finally slowed and pulled the BMW into the cracked and uneven parking lot where an old casino sat. It didn't even look like it was still operating for business, but there was a flickering light above the scarred and faded front door, like a welcome mat for anyone brave—or stupid—enough to enter.

He maneuvered the car toward the back of the building where no light touched before turning around so he faced the street. He cut the engine, and we sat in silence for long seconds as he stared at the back of the casino, both of us plunged into darkness so shapes were distorted and reality didn't quite look how it should.

"Arlo?" I whispered his name but didn't know what I was asking him.

"You'll stay in the car, Galina." He looked at me then, the first time since we'd left the hotel. He reached over and opened the glove box, a dim light from the small interior breaking up the density of the blackness. He pulled out a gun and held it to me, the barrel facing the windshield. I glanced from the weapon back to him. His silence was loud, his message clear.

Use this if anyone fucks with you.

I reached out and took the gun, our fingers brushing together for a split second before the contact was broken. The weight of the weapon was substantial as I stared down at it, the metal cold but warming the longer I held it. I knew how to shoot, had to learn at a young age. But this weapon was heavy in my palm, bigger than the one I owned, and I felt a light sheen of perspiration cover my forehead.

"Arlo, let's just go," I suddenly said and snapped my focus to his face. "I just want you to be safe. Let's go and forget this." I was rambling, my fear so strong right now I couldn't control myself. And I felt ashamed over that. Right now I need to be strong . I'd never let fear control me, but at the thought of Arlo getting hurt—or worse—this cold terror encompassed me.

" Moy svet ," he murmured. "You have nothing to be afraid of. I won't let anyone hurt you." His jaw tightened. "I won't let anyone take you from me."

I shook my head because he'd misunderstood me. "I don't care about me. I can't lose you ," I said and was immediately embarrassed. I didn't want to cling to what we had, to let it be a weakness, but here I was, begging him to leave with me so there wasn't a threat that he'd be taken from me.

"My sweet Galina," he whispered and cupped my face as he leaned in and kissed my lips softly, then the tip of my nose, and finally settled on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let the feeling and smell of him surround me until that hard panic started to lessen.

"Not even death can take me from your side." He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "Not even death," he said again, and I nodded, although I wanted to tell him he couldn't guarantee that. No one was immortal or invincible. No one could predict when or how they died, or stop it. But when Arlo said it with such stony determination and finality in his voice, it was hard not to believe that if anyone could defy death itself, it was him.

"Tell me you understand." His voice was hard, as if he expected me to comply no matter what, to believe my words even if they were a lie.

It was hard to breathe, let alone speak, but I managed to say, "Okay. I understand that you're crazy." I was the one to lean in and kiss him this time and felt his lips tilt into a smile against mine.

"U nas yest' vsya nasha zhizn', chtoby byt' pravymi." He pulled back and smoothed a finger over my bottom lip. "We have our entire lives to be together." And then he was out of the car, the locks engaging, sealing me in, the gun in my hand a reminder that I had to use it. Because although I told him I'd stay in the car, there was no way I was letting him go into that situation alone. There was no way I'd let him get hurt because he was making things safe for me.

With steely reserve, I'd do what I had to, like I'd always done.

I'd fight for my life, and Arlo was now firmly embedded in it.

I'd fight to the death for both of us if need be.