"He was a good dad," Tahey whispered. "I know I keep saying that, and I know saying that probably makes things worse for...for those he...for those he k-killed, but I can't make myself lie. He was a good dad to me. A g-great dad. He could've gone to pieces when my mom died of cancer, but he made himself strong for me. He worked hard for me, and I just wished I had known...if I had known the truth a little earlier, I might have made him stop."
"How did you find out?"
"I found his journals," Tahey answered painfully. "He was fanatical in keeping records, and one day I found his journals, and when I realized what I was reading, what he had willingly done...I wanted to die. I think a part of me did die that time because I already knew..." Childhood memories started coming back, and her voice faltered.
Oh God, no.
Please.
No.
But it was too late, and she remembered.
Thomas reading her bedtime stories, Thomas working hard at his desk but never too busy to answer her timid knocks on his study door, Thomas sweating blood and tears in the kitchen because he always wanted to be the one to bake her birthday cake...
"He was a good dad," she choked out. "I can't pretend he isn't, Dmitry. I just can't, even though I know he w-wasn't a g-good man."
A good man would not have periodically flown to an ISIS state to deal with human traffickers.
A good man would not have paid thousands of dollars just so he could have warm bodies to experiment on.
A good man would've known - there was just no way that a good man would not have known the most noble of pursuits had its limits.
But because Thomas had not been a good man...
He hadn't cared about the consequences, hadn't cared about the lives he would damn with death if it meant he would be a step closer to finding the cure to the disease that killed the woman he loved.
And yet...
"He called to tell me that he'll soon be free," Tahey whispered. "Some kind of technicality, and it's going to let him walk away a free man." She saw Dmitry take a step back at her words but didn't have the energy to comprehend why this was. Pain was still tearing her apart, and it made her blind to everything but her own conflicting emotions about Thomas.
"He told me that even though I b-betrayed him, t-turned him in when I gave the police his journals, he said he s-still l-loves me. That I'd a-always be his most p-precious girl..."
And God help her, even knowing what Thomas had done...
"A part of me still loves him back," Tahey said brokenly. "I tried everything to stop myself from loving him, but I just can't. I just can't." And even though she knew it was her problem - her problem alone, and one nobody else would be able to solve but her, Tahey couldn't help wanting...
Couldn't help waiting...
Just couldn't help hoping that Dmitry would tell her everything would be alright.
Because Dmitry never lied, and so if he told her that, surely it would be so.
And so she waited.
And waited.
But when no words came, she slowly lifted her head, and it was only then Tahey realized...
He was gone.
He had left her.
Again.
She jerked to her feet, confusion and hurt warring inside of her. Where had he gone? Why had he left? Didn't he know - how could he possibly not know...
Tahey heard footsteps, and she swung around, hope flaring inside of her heart. Maybe it was just like before, she thought feverishly, and she was overreacting.
But it wasn't like before.
And she was not overreacting.
Because the man in front of her was not Dmitry.
It was security, and he had been asked by Mr. Adrianov to inform Tahey that her services were no longer required. She was terminated from her job, effective immediately, and she was to clear the premises within an hour.
Chapter Fourteen
He left me. The words seemed to take a life of its own, traitorously slipping under the cracks until they were able to imprint themselves on my mind. And after that, there was no escaping them.
He left me.
My hands shook. I didn't have much on my desk, just my phone, a couple of pens and notebooks, but God, my hands were shaking so bad that it seemed to take forever to get everything in my bag.
He left me.
The words nearly had me gasping out loud, and I quickly dragged deep gulps of oxygen back into my lungs. I can't cry. I glared down at my empty desk. One. Two. Three. I kept counting.
Just kept counting until I realized it was pointless.
Because it was over.
He left me.
I was already crying.
Tears so big and ugly that they made such embarrassing noise as they splashed against the blank surface of my desk. So much noise that in the corner of my eye, I saw the security guy awkwardly avert his gaze from me, as if finding the sight of me too miserable to bear.
Can't say I blame him.
I was pathetic.
Should've known better than to trust someone who had hurt me over and over again without explaining why.
Should've known better than to love a man like Dmitry Adrianov.
But because I didn't know better—-
He left me.
I clumsily brushed the tears away with the back of my hand and turned to the security guy. "My things..." God. Just thinking about what I had to say already made me feel so damn small. "I have t-things in the apartment..." The security guy didn't seem to have a clue, and so I was forced to spell it out. "Mr. Adrianov..."
I saw him wince the moment he realized who I was talking about, and the poor
