My breath snags. He touches my chin gently and lifts my gaze to his.
“Does it make it better if I tell you I killed them before they could kill me, Zayka?”
His eyes bore into mine.
I don’t answer. Because I know it doesn’t mean they had a gun to his head. Maybe they were just thinking about it. But that would be enough.
“The guy. From the wedding…” I can't keep my composure. “Is he… is he dead?”
I don’t ask if Alek did it. Even now, I’m protecting him. Just in case someone’s listening.
“Yes,” he says, unbothered. “He’s dead. And he wasn’t the first. He won’t be the last.”
Silence stretches. I feel the breath leaving me slowly, like grief.
“Claire,” he murmurs, pulling me into his chest. His chin brushes the top of my head. “I’ve never killed anyone who was innocent. Only men in my
