Chapter 81 THE BLADE IN THE HEART
Ginnie
Kenna had given me twenty-four hours, but it felt more like twenty-four seconds. I tucked the wolfsbane-coated dagger into the waistband at the small of my back, feeling the cold steel against my skin as it digs into my palms.
I halt when I reach the outside of Varko's bedroom door, trying to take a moment. I press my forehead to the wood. The tears begin to burn behind my eyes but I refuse to let them fall yet, until I’m inside, staring at his face.
The warmth of the key still clung in my pocket from when I stole it. Kenna has now taken the seal and still has Lily.
Her orders flowed smoothly through each syllable as she spoke.
Twenty-four hours.
To kill him.
Confess.
Or lose Lily forever.
A chill rattles me, and I begin to feel my hand shake so badly I can barely turn the handle. The door opens with a soft click, like a gunshot in the silence.
Varkos is already awake.
He’s now sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, with his head bowed. The sheets were still tangled around his hips revealing the perfectly carved ridge of muscles of his chest.
The moment the door creaks open he snaps his head up, and his eyes find mine instantly. He slowly lifts off the bed, naked and unashamed, with concern etching deep furrows between his brows.
“Ginnie?” His voice is still rough from sleep and sex and screaming earlier. “Where did you go? I woke up and you were gone. I thought—”
He takes one step toward me.
I take one step back.
His expression shifts in confusion, instantly bleeding into hurt.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly. “Talk to me.”
I remain mute.
The tears I’ve been holding break free, now spilling like hot, silent rivers down my cheeks. With two fast motions, he is already across the room, his hands reaching for me.
“Baby…” The word rips out of him. “Did I hurt you in any way? Earlier…when we were…did I go too rough? I swear I didn’t mean—”
“No, Varkos.” My voice drops low into a whisper. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Then why does the look on your face tell me something else,” His eyes scan my entire face, desperate to find an answer. “Tell me what I did…I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
The sincerity in his voice pierces like a knife twisting deeper than the one hidden against my back, I shake my head, the tears spilling faster now.
“You don’t understand,” I choke out. “You can’t fix this…You can’t fix everything, Varkos!”
He drops to one knee in front of me—Alpha of Bleeding Rose, on his knees before a human slave, and takes my trembling hands in his.
“I’m sorry,” he says, with a low and raw voice. “I don’t know how to do this right…How to treat a human, to be gentle…. Harshness is all I’ve ever known, all I was ever taught. My father raised me with fists and commands. My mother with duty and disdain. Even among Lycans I was always the weapon, never the man. But with you…”
He swallows hard. “With you, I want to be better, I want to be soft when you need me to be soft. Just…please…tell me how...Tell me what I did wrong so I can stop doing it.”
Every word slams like a hammer blow to my chest.
Because I can feel he means it… He’s trying.
Because he loves me.
And I am just a few seconds away from killing him.
The sob rips out of me before I can stop it, the tone ugly and broken, tearing from somewhere deep in my soul.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
“What?”
“I hate you!” The scream explodes out of me with wild, anguished. “I hate you for making me love you! For making me need you! For making me choose!”
I shove him away…hard.
He stumbles back a step, shock flashing across his face. My hand flies behind me, fingers closing around the dagger hilt as I yank it free in one fluid motion.
Varkos’s eyes widen—not with fear, with confusion colliding with pain.
“Ginnie…?”
Without waiting I lunge.
The knife arcs toward his chest.
He accepted it without dodging.
He doesn’t raise a hand to stop me.
He just stares me in the eyes, then at the blade, then darts back to the tears streaming down my face like he can’t decode what’s happening.
I stop the blade an inch from his heart.
My arm is shaking violently.
“I have to save my daughter,” I sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words hang between us—shattered, final, Varkos doesn’t move, nor breathe.
His gaze drops to the knife very slowly, then lifts back to my eyes.
“Which daughter?” he asks.
The question is quiet.
Almost gentle.
But it lands like thunder.
It feels like my entire world has stopped.
The dagger still trembles in my grip.
He reaches up slowly, and cups my tear-streaked cheek with his massive hand. “Ginnie,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Which…Daughter?”
My knees buckle.
In a flash, the knife slips from my fingers.
Clattering to the marble floor with a sound like breaking glass.
I collapse forward against his chest, and he catches me instantly with his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me up when my legs refuse to.
He doesn’t speak anymore, he just holds me. With one hand stroking down my spine in slow, soothing circles. While the other cradles the back of my head as his fingers fist through my hair.
Eventually the sobs quiet to shuddering breaths, then he lifts my chin gently.
“Tell me,” he says softly. “Please, I have no idea what you’re saying.”
I swallow hard, the words forced out of my lips despite every effort to force them back.
“Lily,” I whisper. “Lily is your daughter!”