Sara’s eyes widen as I speak, and before I’m done, she begins shaking her head. “What are you talking about?” she exclaims when I fall silent. “That’s not what I’m— You think I’m blaming you for my parents’ deaths?”
I frown in confusion. “Aren’t you?”
“Of course not! If anything, it’s me who—” It’s her turn to break off, her eyes glittering with painful brightness. Before I can say anything, she continues. “The point is, Henderson is to blame for what happened, not you. He set the explosive, killing all those innocent people so he could frame you for their deaths. He sent the SWAT team to my parents’ house.”
“I know. But he was my enemy.”
“Yes, and you are my husband.” Tears are now swimming in her eyes. “I fell in love with you. I brought you into their lives. I pushed for the so-called normal life in the suburbs. If I’d just accepted my feelings for you earlier, we could’ve lived happily in Japan. And then none of this would’ve happened, and my parents would still be—”
“Are you seriously trying to say that you’re to blame for any of this?” I interrupt incredulously. Capturing her hands in mine, I squeeze them softly. “Sara, ptichka… are you under the impression that you’re somehow responsible for what happened?”
Does she not remember how she ended up in Japan in the first place? How I forced myself into her life and stole her?
The tears in her eyes shimmer brighter, and she tries to look away again, but I don’t let her. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. Now. Today. No matter how hard this is.
Because finally, my ptichka is opening up, talking about what happened.
“Sara…” Releasing her hands, I caress her delicate jaw. “My love, you are not in any way to blame. It’s all on me—all of it. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you, and I let nothing stand in my way… not even your feelings. I was a bastard—and I still am, because even after everything that’s happened, I can’t bring myself to do the right thing.”
Her graceful throat works. “The right thing?”
“Walking away. Letting you go.” My mouth twists as I lower my hand. “That’s what a good man would do. A man who wanted to repent for his sins. But that’s not me. I can’t do that. The nine months we were apart nearly destroyed me—and I’d sooner burn in hell for all eternity than spend a lifetime without you.”
She flinches, and I again glimpse torment in her gaze before she turns it carefully blank. “You don’t have to do that,” she says raggedly. “I’m not asking you to leave me. I don’t want you to leave me. That’s the last thing I want—and I definitely don’t blame you for what happened with my parents.”
“Then what did you mean when you said that you should hate me? That a normal person would hate me?”
Her breathing picks up again, and she steps back, shaking her head as more moisture pools in her eyes. “Forget it.” Her voice shakes. “Just forget it.”
I stare at her, a new suspicion occurring to me. “When did you wake up?” I ask, going on a hunch.
A visible shudder ripples over her skin, and I know I guessed right.
She did overhear us.
I try to remember what we said, exactly—and wince internally.
The nineteen dead bodies were definitely mentioned.
Stepping closer, I clasp her slender shoulders. “I’m sorry you heard that,” I say gently. “For what it’s worth, I was counting on Henderson trading himself for at least some of those people.”
She swallows. “Yeah, sure.”
“Would you rather I did nothing? Do you want him to walk free after what he’s done?”
Her chest heaves. “I should.” Her voice is strained as she stares up at me. “Not walk free, but be arrested. Pay for his crimes in the normal way.”
“And do you want that?” I ask softly. “If you could wave a magic wand and have him go to jail for his crimes, would that satisfy you? Would it be enough considering what he’s done? To us, to Tamila and Pasha… to your parents?”
Her breathing quickens more with every word I speak, and I can see her start to tremble. Twisting out of my hold, she moves to walk away, but I catch her wrist and turn her to face me.
“Tell me, Sara.” Ruthlessly, I pull her closer. I want to get it all out in the open, to get to the core of what’s bothering her. “Is that what you’d want for him? Your normal civilian justice? Or would you want him to suffer? To know true pain and loss?”
The tears spill over, covering her cheeks with wetness. “Stop it,” she chokes out, tugging on her wrist. “I don’t… I’m not…”
“Not like that?” I refuse to let go. “Are you sure about that, my love? There isn’t a part of you that’s just a tiny bit glad that your patient’s stepfather got his just desserts? That you got to pull the trigger on the agent who killed your mother? That though Henderson is still out there, he’s already paying for his crimes in flesh and blood?”