Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
His eyes taper to a frightening blue—a color that I’ve never seen in them before. For a moment, I think he’ll shoot me with the gun in his hand, after all.
Maybe he’s figured out that keeping me alive has no meaning and it’d be better if he finishes me off.
But instead of doing that, he speaks with deceptive calm. “What’s the name of the man who was beside you? I’m not interested in the mercenaries. I want the identity of the man who shot me.”
My lips part, and I stand there unblinking. How did he figure out the men were mercenaries when everyone’s face was covered? But then again, Uncle Albert was the only one who shot at him with the sole purpose of killing him. So he must know that he’s the one with a vendetta against him.
Sometimes, Kirill’s intuition really frightens the hell out of me. I often wonder just how much he knows and how much he doesn’t.
He steps forward, filling my space with his addictive cedar scent. It’s a welcome change after the stench of death that he picked up from the hospital. “You said you’re willing to do anything.”
“Disclosing his identity is the only thing I can’t do,” I whisper.
Uncle Albert is still my family, and even though I protected Kirill from him, I have to do the opposite as well, because I have no doubt that Kirill will kill him if he finds him.
One moment I’m standing there, then the next, Kirill wraps his fingers around my throat and slams me against the wall. Air is knocked out of my lungs as he towers over me, his breathing harsh and his eyes blazing. “Is this some sort of an elaborate plan between the two of you? Did he put you up to spying on me and then, when the time was right, ask you to lure me to his den?”
Shit, shit.
How does he know that? Did he already figure out my family ties?
Even though Uncle Albert was initially against me coming to New York, he was practically using me as a spy after I told him I was getting close to Kirill.
“So it is true,” he says in a frighteningly low voice. “Let me ask you something, Aleksandra.”
I hate my full name. I never did before, but now that Kirill only uses it when he’s mad at me, I loathe it from the bottom of my heart.
He advances further into my space until his chest almost touches mine. “Was seduction part of the plan, or did it only happen because I was convenient?”
“No, no…that’s not—”
My words are cut off when he squeezes his fingers, effectively cutting off my air supply.
“Shhh.” His voice comes near my ear like a whip. “Shut the fuck up. I could and should kill you right now.”
Oh, God.
Is this how I will die? Staring at these cruel eyes that I once dreamed would soften?
“I should choke the living fuck out of you and watch as your eyes turn blank, just as you stood there and watched while he shot me.” His fingers sink into my skin as he tightens his grip. “But I won’t. You know why?”
I shake my head, my eyes nearly bulging out.
“Because you’ll eventually lead me to that motherfucker. Mark my words, I will kill him in front of your fucking eyes even if it’s the last thing I do.” He releases me with a shove, and I fall to my knees on the floor, coughing and splattering on my choked breaths.
When I stare up at him, it’s like I’m looking at a raging monster.
I’ve always thought of him as one, but this is the first time I’ve actually been afraid of him and what he might do to reach his goal.
“You should’ve let me die while you had the chance.” He leans down and squeezes my chin between his harsh fingers. “I’ll make you regret playing with me when I turn your life into a living fucking hell.”
7
KIRILL
I’ve always been proud of my ability to remain calm. It took me some time for that side of me to grow, but as soon as I was out of my teenage phase, no one could get into my head.
Not my parents, not my siblings.
No fucking one.
I’ve always been self-sufficient and entirely self-reliant. As a result, it’s impossible for anyone to provoke me.
That steel-like will is being tested to its limits right now. Or more like, since that fucking Russia episode.
Every night, when I’m all alone, I stare at the two ugly stitched holes in my chest and replay the scene on that hill. The images of the man who opened fire and of Aleksandra standing right beside him plague me.
The complex feelings I had at that moment refuse to be erased. It’s been three and a half weeks since the incident. A week and a half since she snuck into my room, apologizing and promising to do anything so I would forgive her.