Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
She looks nothing like my Annika.
There’s no trace of her cheerfulness, the constant mischievousness and innocence in her eyes, or the energy that bubbles from her pores.
She might have physically shot me, but I killed her.
And there’s only one way to bring her back to life.
Even if it means sacrificing my own in return.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Her brows crease. “Okay?”
“I’ll take you home.”
“You…you will?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
She shakes her head frantically, some of the light seeping back to her eyes. Slowly but steadily.
Fuck.
The knowledge that I nearly broke her spirit makes me want to shoot myself and, this time, never wake up.
That would be better than hearing the sound of my crumbling insides or witnessing her live without me.
It’d fucking rip me apart.
“Now, come down from the edge.” I offer her my hand, but she stares at it suspiciously.
We remain like that for a moment, her gaze sliding from my face to my hand and back again.
“Annika.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s raining.”
“I know.”
“Dance with me.”
Her eyes widen, the blue and gray clashing for dominance. Despite her constant nagging about her hair and clothes, Annika loves when we dance in the rain. It brings out memories of our first date and kiss. Of the time I decided she’d become mine for good.
Her chin trembles and so does her voice. “But you don’t dance.”
“I do with you.”
“I don’t like the rain.”
“You do for me.” This time when I nod at my extended hand, she takes it.
I tug her so forcibly that she lands against my chest and her small palms fall on my shoulders. My hand grabs onto her waist and we sway slowly to the sound of the rain.
We’re pressed against one another so closely that I want to stop time right at this moment. Lately, whenever we’re this close, she pushes back or tries to put as much distance between us as possible.
But right now, she stares up at me with expectant eyes, eyes so full of light, I want to kick myself and throw my body into a ditch for ever tainting her with my darkness.
These eyes are only meant for light.
We continue swaying slowly, gently, and she doesn’t stop staring at me. Whenever the rain gets in her eyes, she blinks it away to watch me closely, as if wanting to peel open my exterior and peek inside me.
“Does this mean you’ll forget about the past?” she murmurs hopefully, expectantly.
And I hate to crush that hope, or decimate it, but that’s exactly what I have to do to give her a new beginning.
One where I’m not tarnishing her life.
I was always meant to break Annika Volkov. I just didn’t know I’d be the one broken instead.
“I can’t erase my past.”
Her feet come to a halt as everything shakes—her chin, her body, her lips. “What about your present and future?”
“I’ve already lost those.”
“That’s not—”
Her words are cut off when a commotion erupts on other end of the beach.
I frown.
No one is supposed to be here. This island is owned by Grandpa Jonathan and only he and Dad use it whenever they need a holiday. But they wouldn’t come over, considering they both know I’m here.
Unless they decided to come uninvited. Maybe Mum and Nan pressured them into bringing them here to see me?
No.
Something is wrong about this.
“Stay here,” I tell Annika and start to take the road down.
When I turn around to make sure she didn’t go back to the rocky shore, I find her hot on my heels.
“What?” she asks. “I want to know what’s going on.”
It’s useless to try to stop her and we don’t have time anyway. The rain has stopped as abruptly as it started by the time we reach the beach.
Several men in black patrol the whole area like some special agent soldiers.
I don’t hear footsteps, but I hear Annika’s shriek as I’m hit from behind.
Pain explodes in the back of my neck and I fall to my knees. My wrists are wrung behind my back as a Russian-accented voice mutters, “Got him, Boss.”
When I lift my head, I find none other than the man who murdered my childhood and bathed in its blood.
The man who gave Annika life.
Adrian Volkov.
And he’s holding a gun to my temple.
39
ANNIKA
It’s strange how the world can flip upside down in a matter of minutes.
A few moments ago, I started hoping again, pining, dreaming of convincing Creighton to give up on his vendetta.
And that was after two days of nightmarish, bleak surrender. Due to his complete inflexibility, my heart broke to pieces. I lost all hope and became a shell of my former self.
The thought of him turning into this heartless person who only sees vengeance has been ripping me apart and I couldn’t withstand the torture. So imagine my surprise when he finally listened.
He stood there and heard me out.
He didn’t attempt to antagonize me. He was even…scared. It was the first time I’ve seen that fear in his eyes.