Chapter Thirty-Four
Though I should probably run, I approach Nero. And though I’m probably risking its loss, I put a hand on his shoulder.
He doesn’t seem to feel my touch.
His powerful body is stiff, as if turned to stone. The blood dripping from his forearm paints the stone floor red, and the expression on his face is pure devastation.
“Why?” he whispers raggedly again. “Why did you do this?”
My chest feels like a herd of elephants is sitting on it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Woland is giving me another heart attack. Only it somehow feels worse this time, with the squeezing pressure echoed by the painful stinging behind my eyes.
I did this to Nero.
I killed the one person he seems to have still cared about.
“Nero,” I say achingly. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
He’s still obl
