“What? Why? Why did you say that? To me?”
Raze’s eyes narrowed and he jerked back his head, my hands slipping from his face like leaves drifting from the trees in the fall. That same cold demeanor once again commandeered his face, the chill he always wore, any trace of vulnerability snubbed out. Raze began to pace the holding room floor like a wild animal locked in a cage, like a wild cat in captivity. His frame seemed to occupy the entire space of the room and I could feel his confusion, his agitation crackling the air around us.
His eyes repeatedly squeezed shut and his head twitched like he was fighting something in his head. His neck muscles corded with the strain, or was it pain?
Lord! He looked like he was in pain.
“I’m not here for you, for memories I don’t want. I’m here for revenge!” he growled, his softer side gone, the frightening icy killer back in place. “I’m 818 and I’m here for my revenge. On the man who lied. On the man who made me into this.”
The heels of his hands pushed into his eyes and he shook his head. His hands dropped only to make fists at his sides. Then he blasted out a frustrated bellow.
My head was spinning.
Why did he think of the beach? Why were his eyes exactly the same as his? Why did he smell sand, sun and sea when he was around me?
Without thinking it through, I leapt forward and held Raze’s rough face in my hands. I searched his sharp features for any sign of recognition, but under the thick dark stubble of his cheeks and his scarred and weathered face, I could find none.
“How old are you?” I asked, holding my breath.
Raze stilled, eyebrows furrowed, like his mind was shrouded in a thick fog. “I… I don’t know.” My heart cried out at the lost look on his face. His gaze looked panicked, even afraid?
He reminded me of a little boy in that brief moment. Right then, my heart cracked, and I wanted to give him comfort. Me, a woman, wanting to give comfort to this hulking brute of a killer. But what if he was Luka? What if the impossible became possible? Luka’s body was never returned to his family, to be identified, to be buried …
My heart started to race faster as all kinds of possibilities circled around in my head. And when Raze’s head tilted to the side in confusion and he pursed his full lips, my frantic heart nearly exploded…
“Luka, leave me alone!” I said, folding my arms across my chest, and Luka laughed behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders from behind.
“Don’t be like that, Kisa. Me and Rodion were just joking around.”
“You and my brother were picking on me! When you two are together, you’re a nightmare!”
Luka spun me around in his arms, his stunning, beautiful eyes concentrating on mine. His smile faded, his head tilted to the side in that adorable way, and his full lips pursed. “Forgive me, solnyshko?”
I loved it when his head tilted to the side and his full lips pursed. He only ever did it when he was sorry or immensely confused. It made him look so beautiful. My heart melted when he looked at me that way.
Sighing in defeat, I rose on tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his. “I forgive you, Luka. I’ll always forgive you…”
The door flew open, ripping me from my childhood reminiscence. I instantly dropped my hands like Raze’s skin had become a naked flame. Viktor’s shocked gaze met mine as he witnessed our intimate encounter. I immediately leapt back and quickly righted my hair.
“Miss Volkova?” Viktor asked. Rushing past our resident Georgian trainer, I burst into the hallway, just as Alik’s door flew open and my furious fiancé stepped through.
My body stiffened with fear. Alik’s possessive eyes quickly sought mine. I was irrationally worried what he would see in my expression, the realization that Raze could be my Luka. Alik hated Luka. It suddenly occurred to me that he showed no emotion when Rodion or Luka died. I knew it was because he was pleased that he now had me to himself, that Luka no longer stood in the way of getting what he wanted to possess.
Alik’s lips tightened and the bone of his jaw clicked with anger as he walked to where I stood, his heavy hands grabbing my biceps. He pulled me to his damp chest.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he snarled, the hand on my left bicep inevitably moving upward to clutch the back of my neck.
“I… I was working,” I said quickly. To evade his suspicion, I flattened my uneasy palm on his cheek. “But I’m here now, baby,” I soothed as I felt his grip slacken and his deep exhale of relief. “I’m here to help you win this fight.”