Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Sometimes it was easy to forget we were cousins. Other times, like now, it was impossible not to see it. The same stubborn set to their jaws, the same cold fury in their eyes.
"What happened?" I demanded, my voice rough with sudden fear.
"Yelena?" Damien pushed past me, his composure shattering like glass.
His wife ran straight into his arms, her body shaking as she buried her face against his chest. "We don't know when she left," she choked out, her voice broken with sobs. "She said she wasn't feeling well and wanted to rest. I'm so sorry. I'm—" Her words dissolved into tears, wet against Damien's shirt.
"Calm down, angel. Tell me what happened," Damien murmured, brushing a lock of damp hair from her face, his voice a soothing contrast to the steel in his eyes. His hands were gentle on her, a startling tenderness from a man I'd just watched admire a bullet wound.
And then it hit me, a physical blow that drove the air from my lungs.
"She's gone."
Marina.
Moy zaichonok had run again.
The realization slammed into me. My pulse pounded in my ears, my muscles coiled with an instinct I couldn't suppress. The urge to hunt, to claim, to possess.
This wasn't just frustration.
This wasn't just another problem to be dealt with.
This was my wife. My woman. The only thing that mattered.
Nadia's voice cut through my fury like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "Yes. Marina left."
A muscle ticked in my jaw, the steady rhythm of rage building. "Let me guess. She was talking about choices?" The word tasted bitter on my tongue.
"She was talking about people making choices for her," Nadia corrected sharply, her glare slicing through me with all the arrogance of an Ivanov princess. Her chin lifted, daring me to challenge her. "She said before all this, she made a life for herself. And it didn't include this."
Rage seared through my veins, hot and vicious as a branding iron. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to destroy.
"I was taking her back to her life in Russia before she got tangled in all this shit!" I snarled, my voice a sharp, unrelenting crack in the tense air. I could feel the veins standing out in my neck, the blood rushing in my ears.
Mikhail's warning was instant, his hand moving subtly toward his weapon. "Watch it."
I exhaled, my hands flexing open and closed as I fought for control, my nails biting into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped wounds.
My gaze flicked to Nadia, who was still watching me, unimpressed by the display. I forced myself to level my tone. "Apologies for yelling, Nadia. Do you know where she went?" Each word cost me, dragged out against the tide of fury.
"No."
A single word, sharp and definitive, but it wasn't just that.
She hesitated. A fraction of a second, barely noticeable.
That hesitation told me everything. It was a tell I'd learned to read across poker tables and interrogation rooms.
"But," she continued, her gaze dropping for just an instant, "I don't think she wanted to go back to Russia. She seemed resentful. Like she was being dragged along without a say in it." The last words had an edge to them, an accusation.
The words stung, barbs sinking deep into flesh.
She was supposed to be safe with me. I was supposed to be the one she trusted. Instead, she ran. The betrayal burned like acid.
I'd let my guard down. Given her space when I should have made her understand—there was no running from me. No escaping what we were to each other. What she was to me.
Gregor sighed, already moving to toss me his keys, the metal flashing in the light. "Go. Get your wife before she gets too far. Trust me, these women are a pain in the ass to find if you let them get too much of a head start." His voice held the weariness of experience.
I caught the keys midair, the metal cold against my palm. Already planning, already hunting.
She could run. She could fight.
But she was mine. Branded on my soul with invisible ink.
And I was going to drag her back by her hair if I had to.
CHAPTER 42
MARINA
Two Months later
“Hey Marina, that hot guy is back in your section,” Anna said, giving me a knowing smirk as she strolled into the kitchen and stole another one of my fries.
“Really?” I asked, my heart stuttering in my chest, excitement bubbling up inside of me before I could tamp it down.
“Yep, and girl, I pulled out all the stops. I even wore my best push-up bra today. He didn’t even look at me. It was all in vain. That man clearly only has eyes for you.”
I wanted to say that good husbands could be like that, but the words felt dangerous on my tongue. I swallowed them down, forcing a laugh instead. He wasn’t my husband anymore. Not really. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?