throw up. He was the strongest man I’d ever met, and still, I couldn’t stand the idea of hurting him. “T guess Khaos doesn’t have to go to the pound,” I finally said, my raspy tone hiding the heartache inside. My papa’s head shot up at my voice, relief filling his eyes. Ronan’s stoic expression didn’t falter. My stomach clenched when I realized he knew what I’d come to terms with at the same time I had. “How long was I out?” I asked. “Three days,” Ronan said emotionlessly. My papa got to his feet, came to my bedside, and grabbed my hand attached to an IV. “I am so sorry, angel. I am so—” His voice cracked. “I will never forgive myself for this.” I stared at his hand holding mine, unable to remember the last time he’d touched me intentionally. And all it took was being shot by his own gun to gain his affection. Numb, I pulled my hand away. “I forgive you, Papa.” His pained eyes found mine. “I always wondered how I made a girl as compassionate as you.” “I’m compassionate, Papa, but not forgetful. I don’t hate you—not for what you did to my mother, not for lying, being absent, or for putting me here.” My voice was unnaturally calm. “But I will not forget.” He soaked in my words silently. “You will always be my father . . . but I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.” It surprised me I could say those words without any emotion. Though I wasn’t the same girl who’d boarded a plane to Moscow with hope in her eyes. He looked a little stricken, but then sullenly nodded. “If that is what you wish.” “Tt is.” Without another word, my father walked to the door. “Why did you do it?” I blurted. He paused, his body tensing. He knew I wanted to know why he killed my mother. His hesitation created a heavy silence in the room, like he wasn’t sure if he should tell me the truth. In the end, I knew he did. “She was pregnant with another man’s child.” Then he walked out of the room and out of my life, leaving me numb at his response. “You look too much like my Tatianna . . .” His Tatianna. My