I meant it when I said that I don’t believe in justice, but I do believe in an eye for an eye.

Blood for fucking blood.

Besides, the sooner I’m done with this, the faster I can get back here and take care of her.

The moment I step out of her room, Yan, Kolya, and Boris stand erect, their expressions more closed off than usual. Kolya and Boris were with me all day, but Yan hasn’t left Lia’s side.

“Did you see it with your own eyes?” I ask Yan, not that I need a reason to get on with my plan.

“Yes, sir,” he snarls. “That motherfucker did it on purpose.”

I stare at Kolya. “Have you managed to get me footage?”

He nods, then shows me his phone. My three guards and I watch as the scene unfolds in front of our eyes. It’s not that I doubt Yan’s words, but I want to see it for myself—the exact moment when the fucker signed his death certificate.

The shocked expression on Lia’s features guts me. She must’ve known it was going to be the end as she was falling, and that pain, that desperation, makes me clench my fists on either side of me.

“Have you located him?” I ask Kolya with a calm I don’t feel.

“He’s at a club. One of our men, Fedor, is keeping an eye on him.”

“At a fucking club,” Yan snarls. “I’m going to torture the bastard to death.”

I shake my head once. “You stay here, Yan.”

“But, Boss—”

“Stay here and protect her until I get back.”

“Why can’t Boris do it? I want to kill the fucker.”

“Yan. It’s an order.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but Kolya shakes his head at him before he and Boris follow me out.

My knuckles hurt from the amount of clenching I do during the ride to confront Ryan. My guard, Fedor, calls us and says he left the club alone and he’s following him home, and since I’ve had my men watching him, we know the route he’ll take.

Kolya strategizes with him so we can intercept Ryan in the alley he always drives through. Fedor hits his car from behind and we’re already waiting for Ryan in the shadows.

Ryan gets out, cursing and checking his car. He doesn’t sway on his feet, so he must’ve not drunk a lot.

I step out of the vehicle at the same time as Fedor, who nods at me. Boris and Kolya stand on either side of Ryan so that the four of us are surrounding him.

The fucker turns around, his expression ashen as he meets my gaze. I see the exact moment when he knows he’s fucked.

People know when death is coming. Sometimes, they can feel it and hope leaves their greedy eyes. Some fight, some know it’s useless. Others fight even when they know it’s useless.

Like Ryan.

“What…what do you want from me?” He stares at me, then at my men, looking like he’s ready to piss his pants. “I didn’t do anything.”

I step in front of him, retrieving my gun with the silencer attached to it. “Yes, you did, Ryan. I should’ve killed you that night at the club. A mistake I will not repeat again.”

“No, please… I…I kept my distance… ”

“Then you decided not to catch her at the last second.”

His eyes widen.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know? I saw the sadism in your eyes when you decided you wouldn’t catch her.”

“No… Everyone witnessed it… She jumped a second too early.”

“You could’ve caught her. You just chose not to.” I point the gun at him. “That’s your final fucking strike.”

“No, please, please…”

“We’ll start with the legs, then I’ll make you beg to be killed. Only after you’ve paid for every tear she’s shed will you be allowed the mercy of death.”

I shoot him in the tibia, right where her leg broke.

Ryan shrieks like a toddler as blood explodes from his wound. As he falls to his knees, I shoot his thigh.

He wails, his ugly voice bouncing off the buildings and fueling my need to inflict more pain. Pain greater than what Lia will be going through.

This is going to be a long night.

When I’m done with this scum, he’ll disappear as if he never existed.

Just like her career.

This is my form of fucking justice.

24

Lia

I spend the next two weeks at home, recovering.

Or more accurately, trying to survive my mind.

Every day, I wake from a nightmare replaying the moment I fell, the exact moment the haunting sound of my leg breaking echoing in the air.

And every time, soothing hands wrap around me, pulling me close to a strong chest. A chest that I’ve grown so used to along with the compassion that comes with it.

A compassion I never believed Adrian to be capable of.

He didn’t leave my side during the first couple of days, but then he had to go back to his work. I don’t want to think about the fact that he’s going back to torture and kill people, that after caring for me, he went back to destruction.

But it’s not like I could stop him. Adrian made it clear that he enjoys what he does, and there’s nothing I can do or say that will change his mind.

Not having him around is hard. It’s even harder than I would like to admit.

Since I took Adrian’s hand and cried into his chest, something between us changed. The bridge I thought was ruined has been slowly building since that day. It might have something to do with his attentiveness or silent support, but he’s become a pillar in my life. He distracts me from my head and every vile emotion that comes with it.

But when he’s gone, all those emotions barge back in.

The walls close in on me as if intending to trap me in the confines of the dark box from my childhood. I keep stealing peeks at my ballet clothes, at the shoes and the leotards, and try not to break down all over again.

I deleted my Instagram account and all of my socials to get a reprieve from the outside world and the press.

Stephanie and Philippe have been calling and tried to visit, but I avoided their advances and changed my number. They’re associated with the world I can’t go back to. Seeing them and talking to them would only bring that fact to the forefront of my head.

Besides, after my injury, the entire crew had to start anew and delay the opening. I bet Hannah is ecstatic to play Giselle instead of me.