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“Ya yeshche nikogo tak ne khotel, kak tebya,”
“You’re not a pawn,” he tells me, his voice lowered. “You never have been. You’re a fucking queen. You’re the only person in this whole goddamned world who could bring me to my knees. The only person who’s ever crawled inside my soul.”
“Don’t go out there, Solnyshka,” he rasps. “Please. Don’t go with him.”
“Because I already have enough blood on my hands, and if he touches you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Ya zhe govoril, chto ne otpushchu tebya,” he murmurs in Russian. “Ya ne mogu. Nikogda ne smogu.”
