Page 28 of Scarred Redemption

Forget morals. I had none.

Forget decency. No longer would the word be a part of my vocabulary.

And forget forgiveness.

No one would ever be afforded the generous luxury again.

At this point, I felt nothing inside.

“Are you certain you want to do that?” Roman finally asked, the other men fearful of doing so.

“I’m certain. We saved them millions of dollars. It’s time they repaid in kind. Set it up. The Italians will be next.”

“You’re trying to flush out the enemy.” Sergei was finally grinning, clueing into what I had in mind.

If there was one thing everyone knew about me, it was that I didn’t like being caged like a rat. “I’m trying to finish this bullshit so we can all move on with our lives and with business. Sergei, establish a meeting with the chief of police. I want to ensure he is reminded who he actually works for.”

Now my second in command pumped his fist. “Vlast' stirayet skorb'.”

He could tell by my expression I wasn’t pleased at his analogy. Power erases grief. Nothing would erase the dull ache or the rage simmering just below the surface, but I was no fool. I had no control over the dead.

But I could ensure that my enemies faced a similar final end of days.

“Now, I have something I need to do. Call me if there are any issues.”

I headed toward the door, Mario and another soldier following me. I stopped them from advancing. “This I do alone.”

There was nothing for them to question and yet Sergei acted as if he was going to do so. “I suggest you back down. As I just said. This is mine to do alone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sergei followed me to the door and outside. “There’s one more thing you need to remember.”

“And that is?”

“The project. The trust is growing concerned, especially since another architect was assigned and from what I understand, one they don’t like. There’s talk about replacing you as the lead.”

I wanted to say I just didn’t give a shit, but in truth, I did.

Now instead of the medical facility being for the living, it would be brought to life to honor the dead.

“I’ll handle it.”

* * *

There were no words to describe the feeling of being inside Isabel’s apartment. I’d ensured the rent and utilities had been paid and that no one entered without my permission. While Hope had been allowed in once, she’d yet to begin packing up Isabel’s things.

For me, being inside my guardian angel’s home would be my final goodbye. There was nothing left except a grave full of charred bones.

And memories, which continued to be bittersweet, most coming to me in the dead of night.

Sleeping had become a luxury I hadn’t wanted, but couldn’t avoid forever, yet in seeing images of her face, I was reminded very clearly of the position I held and the danger involved.

As well as the fact I was no one’s hero.

I stood in the living room, able to detect a whiff of her perfume. She was everywhere. In the decorative pillows on her couch and the soft throw tossed over the arm of a chair. Even in her choice of pictures on the walls, every one of them told a story about the woman who’d broken through a half dozen barriers.

As I moved to the kitchen, I allowed the emotions to flow one more time. After this, Hope could do what she wanted with the contents. The moment I flicked on the light, my eyes were drawn to the refrigerator. In the quiet moment of reflection, I was reminded of why I’d fallen hard for the beautiful blonde.