Chapter 8 - THE SACRIFICE
Victor collapsed backward. Blood bloomed dark and fast across his shirt.
Julian stood over him, gun still smoking, chest heaving. Police skidded to a halt all around us. Officers poured out, weapons raised, shouting commands. Julian did not even look at them. He stared only at me.
“This is your fault,” he snarled. “All of it.”
Officers seized Julian. Wrenched the gun from his hand. Cuffed his arms behind his back. He did not resist. He continued to glare at me as they dragged him away toward a squad car.
I fell to my knees beside Victor. His face was pale, eyes glazing, blood seeping fast between his fingers where he pressed both hands to his chest.
“Victor!” I cried, tearing off my coat and pressing it hard against the wound. “Help! We need a doctor! Now!”
Victor tried to smile. Blood bubbled at his lips. “I… I did it, Elena. Told them. Where Julian would be. Which flight. Everything. I stalled him as long as I could.”
“I know,” I said, tears spilling hot and fast down my face. “You saved my life. You truly did.”
“To pay for everything else,” Victor whispered, voice growing weaker. “Julian told me… he would hurt the baby. Hurt you. And I realized… I could not let him. Whatever I did… whatever I became… none of it mattered if you were gone.” He lifted a trembling hand toward my face. “I loved you, Elena. Truly. Once I learned who you were… I was terrified I did not deserve you. And I was right. I never deserved you.”
“Save your strength,” I pleaded, holding his hand tight. “Paramedics are coming. You will be fine. We will get through this together.”
Victor shook his head slowly. He squeezed my fingers once, gently.
“Tell my mother… I am sorry. Tell her I tried to be better.” He paused, gaze drifting to my stomach. “And if it is a boy… tell him his father was not always a coward. Tell him he died trying to protect the family.”
“Victor, stop talking like this—”
“Promise me, Elena.”
“I promise,” I sobbed. “Anything. Just hold on.”
He took a long, shuddering breath. His eyes met mine one final time.
“Goodbye, my love.”
His hand loosened in mine. His head fell back. Paramedics pulled me gently aside and took over. They worked frantically. But long minutes later, one of them stood up slowly, pulled off his gloves, and looked at me with sad eyes.
“I am so sorry, Madam. We could not save him.”
I stood there in the floodlights, surrounded by police, sirens wailing in the distance, holding his cold hand in mine, and for a very long time I could not breathe. Julian had been arrested. The evidence was safe. I was safe. Our baby was safe. But Victor—my flawed, weak, ultimately brave husband—was gone.
Margaret arrived shortly afterward. She pushed through the crowd, saw Victor’s covered body, and gave one long, heartbroken cry before sinking to her knees beside him. I stood apart, holding my coat tight around me, shivering uncontrollably. Clara found me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, but I barely felt it.
Julian was led past me toward a squad car in handcuffs. He stopped and looked at me. No triumph. No remorse.
“Your father asked me to protect you,” he said quietly. “I failed. But remember this, Elena—he would have hated what you have become. A woman who destroys everything to have her way.”
“You murdered an innocent man,” I said hollowly. “And you nearly murdered his wife and unborn child. My father would have despised what you did in his name.”
Julian said nothing more. He climbed into the car and was driven away.
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The long night finally ended as dawn broke pale and grey over the airfield. I sat in the back of Clara’s car, staring out the window at nothing, Margaret sitting silent and grief‑stricken beside me. We had won. We had exposed the conspiracy. We had stopped Julian. But victory tasted like ash and blood.
Margaret finally spoke, her voice broken and small.
