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)
“Don’t force it,” she says in a soft voice. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Kirill said you weren’t doing well and could use some breakfast.” She motions at the tray she bought, which is similar to one she’d make for Kirill.
Anna warmed up to me after she found out I saved him in Russia and again after that cartel shipment incident.
I think I got her seal of approval for having the ability to protect Kirill. And for what?
I dedicated my life to him, but he gave me the middle finger in return.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense. Look at your malnourished face.” She brings me a bowl of what looks like soup. “Here, have this. It’ll help with the hangover.”
I start to protest but stop when she raises a brow and hikes a hand on her hip, silently saying, ‘I dare you to try.’
Clearing my throat, I grab the bowl and drink it in one go.
Anna doesn’t leave until she gets me to eat a piece of toast with jam and butter and two boiled eggs.
After she’s gone, I take a shower and head to the closet. My heart shatters all over again, and I burst into tears as I put on my clothes.
This part of the closet will belong to his wife now. Everything will. His bed. His body. His last name.
I hit my chest over and over again.
Why the fuck does this hurt so much? No one told me about the pain of having a broken heart.
After the wave subsides, I lift my chin and stare at my face in the mirror. Even though it’s tear-streaked and my eyes are bloodshot. I make a vow to myself that I won’t ever be this weak again.
Never.
And in order to do that, I have to remove myself from Kirill’s immediate surroundings.
A sob fights to break through, but I swallow it down even as a tear clings to my lower lid and then streams down my face.
I can do this. I’ve survived worse.
My movements are mechanical as I pack what I can fit of my things into a duffel bag. I stop at the room's threshold and cast one last look behind me.
Every corner of this place is filled with memories of us. He fucked me in every nook and on every surface. He held me as I slept on that bed and sofa. He carried me in his arms to the bathroom and even offered me a shoulder to cry on after a hard experience.
He was there for me, until he wasn’t.
Until he ended us so cruelly that the wound is still gaping and bleeding all over the ground.
I wish him all the unhappiness in the world. I’m not much of a selfless person. I won’t wish him and his new fiancée well. I wish for them to suffer every day. I wish that he’ll see my shadow in every corner of this room and have nightmares about me.
“I hope you never forget about me and that the thought of me haunts you for eternity,” I whisper, then close the door and go down the hallway.
I don’t even know where I’ll go now. If I fly to Russia, will Babushka and Uncle accept me again? Will they make me kill Kirill now?
No. I can’t do that, no matter how much he hurt me.
But where else can I go if not Russia?
“Lipovsky.”
I stand tall and slowly turn around to be greeted with Viktor’s dispassionate gaze. He studies me from head to toe. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m quitting.” My lips curve in a bitter smile. “Good for you, huh? You can finally go back to being the only senior guard.”
“That won’t be happening.”
“What do you mean by that? I want to quit.”
“That’s not how it works. There’s no such thing as quitting the Bratva. This is for life.”
“Surely there are exceptions?”
“Only if Kirill allows it.”
Shit. He clearly said no to that last night.
“Well, you can convince him of that.” I start to turn around. “I’ll go say goodbye to Karina and the guys.”
Viktor strides ahead and steps in front of me, and I stop when he narrows his eyes on me.
“What?” I whisper, not sure what to make of his expression.
“Is this why you left your post and disappeared last night?”
I purse my lips.
“You’re not the type who leaves their post. Ever.”
Yeah, well. That was the last thing on my mind after I was metaphorically hit in the face by the news of Kirill’s engagement.
“Listen.” He grabs me by the shoulders. “I know you like Boss, but he can’t be with you in that sense. He’s expected to get married and have kids. Especially if he’s shooting for the Pakhan position. You understand that, right?”
My neck heats. Can the earth just swallow me now?
I forgot that Viktor thinks I’m gay and crushing on Kirill. But for some reason, the fact that he’s attempting to comfort me—or as much comforting as someone like Viktor can offer—makes me want to cry.