“Do I want to die? Of course not. I have so much to live for. So many dreams . . .” She drifted off, knowing this was pointless and would only make him feel worse. She shook her head to rid herself of the direction her words had drifted.
“But I know that my death is a necessary thing. And if my death means that Maksimov can no longer cause so much hurt to so many others, then I can die in peace. I’ll know that my life did mean something. That my surviving the attack did in fact have a purpose. A much higher purpose. And that’s enough for me. I can face death and not be afraid because I’ll picture all those women, those young girls and know they are safe because you took Maksimov down.”
He made an inarticulate sound of rage but didn’t interrupt her.
“You showed me kindness and gentleness,” she said quietly. “You didn’t hurt me, and we both know someone else would have. They wouldn’t have cared what condition I was delivered to Maksimov in. But you protected me and we both know that. And for that I thank you. But what I thank you the most for is giving me the truth. So that I don’t go to my death terrified, alone. That I’ll know as I take my last breath that my death wasn’t senseless and without purpose.”
Tears glittered in Hancock’s eyes, shocking her with uncharacteristic emotion. He looked gutted. He had the look of a man tortured with demons that would haunt him for eternity. She wished with everything she had that she could take them for him. So that he could be free. Most of all she hated that her dying would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“I have two things to ask of you, Hancock. Just two. And they’re simple. I’ll never ask for another thing and I won’t fight you. I won’t try to escape. I do have some dignity and I’ve resigned myself to what must be. But I want you to promise me two things.”
“Anything,” he said hoarsely.
“Promise me that my death won’t be in vain. Swear to me that you’ll take Maksimov out.”
“He’s going down,” Hancock said, menace in his voice. “I swear it, Honor. I will not let your sacrifice be for nothing. Never.”
She briefly closed her eyes, steeling herself for the second request.
“Please spare my parents the details. You can tell them that my death brought an end to a maniac and his entire empire. But swear to me that you’ll tell them my death was quick and merciful. Promise me you won’t tell them how I died. They’d never survive it. I don’t want them to know that I prayed for death or that I died screaming and begging for death. I don’t want them to know all that was done to me. Please, Hancock. Please, I’m begging. Do this for me. For them.”
Hancock gathered her hand in his, squeezing so hard it took all her control not to wince because she knew he wasn’t trying to hurt her. It was the strength of his emotions, emotions he was trying not to allow to show but she did. She saw him. The heart of him. Past the outward facade he’d perfected over a lifetime.
“All your family will know is what a fierce, brave and loving woman you were. They will know of all the lives you saved and the courage you showed the entire time. When I said that you mattered, that you would never be forgotten, I never meant for you to think that what would be remembered is the way you . . . died.”
The last came out strangled, as if just saying the word wounded him deeply. He looked away from her, no longer able to keep their gazes locked and so she wouldn’t see what he so desperately tried to hide.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her own voice thick with tears.
“How can you thank me for being the instrument of your death?” he raged, anger and sorrow reflected in every word. “How can you offer forgiveness and understanding to your executioner? You should hate me, Honor. You should despise me. You should be plotting to kill me, to escape, to do whatever necessary to take me down, and all you ask is that I make sure Maksimov dies and that your family is shielded from the details of your torture and agony?”
Her face went soft, and she lifted her hand to gently stroke his cheek.