Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Something snaps inside me at the question. My hand whips out before I can stop it, my forefinger pointed directly in her face. "Don't you ever question my love for that man. He's the only thing I've ever loved in this whole blood-fucked world."
The words tear from my throat, raw and honest. In this moment of pure emotion, I'm not calculating or manipulating---I'm just feeling the burning truth of it. Domhnall is everything to me. He's why I'm doing this, why I'm here with Moira in this shitty bar, why I left him even though it felt like cutting out my own heart.
I push back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. "Now come on. Time to go break up with your boy toy."
She stays frozen, seemingly overwhelmed by everything I've dumped on her. I don't have time for her to process---Pavel's men could be watching us right now. I grab her arm and haul her up, ignoring her resistance.
"Fuck," she hisses. "Why do you have to be so rough?"
I keep dragging her toward the front of the bar, my grip tight. "Sorry, kid. Not all of us were raised to live in cotton candy houses with peppermint dreams."
Once we hit the sidewalk, she yanks out of my grasp. "Wow, you really are a bitch. And there's just one little problem with your brilliant plan."
I cross my arms, irritation flaring. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
She smirks, and I notice her wiping sweat from her palms onto her jeans---a nervous tell. "We got married. The priest and me."
For once, I'm genuinely caught off guard. My mind reels, calculations and contingencies crumbling. "Well, shit."
Married? This complicates everything. Breaking up a relationship is one thing; ending a marriage is a whole different game. Pavel won't be satisfied with anything less than a complete separation. How the hell am I going to make this work?
But I don't have time to process this bomb she's dropped because a white van suddenly screeches to a stop right next to the curb. The doors fly open, and six men in black gear and face masks spill out like cockroaches.
My stomach drops as they grab us. I recognize Pavel's men immediately, the way they move, the efficient brutality of their grips.
I kick, instinct taking over. Moira screams beside me. We both fight like hell, but we're outnumbered and outmatched.
It doesn't matter.
We're dragged into the van, kicking and cursing, and the doors slam shut behind us.
I barely have time to breathe before the van takes off.
Fuck.
Pavel must have been watching the whole time and knew I was failing. Knew I couldn't convince her that easily.
And now we're both paying the price for my failure.
THIRTY-FOUR
DOMHNALL
I walk through Carnal’s doors for Kira’s baby shower, trying to leave behind the hollow feeling that’s been chasing me since Anna—no, Mads—walked out. The club’s transformed for today, fairy lights twinkling above the normally shadowy furniture. Bright, colorful balloons are tied to chairs. There’s a spread of food that would make any caterer proud. It’s all so goddamn cheerful I want to tear it down with my bare hands.
I force my shoulders to relax and plaster on what I hope passes for a neutral expression. I’m here for Kira. For Isaak. Not to broadcast that my entire world is crumbling beneath my feet.
“Don’t look so thrilled,” Quinn deadpans as I approach, handing me a plastic cup of what’s clearly not alcohol. “You’re bringing down the whole vibe.”
I accept the cup, forcing the corners of my lips upward. “I’m a bloody delight.”
She snorts but mercifully moves on, greeting some other guests coming through the door.
The truth is, I’m not here. Not really. My mind is stuck in a loop, replaying the moment Mads walked out. The way she looked at me like she was memorizing my face. The way she said Maybe it’s time to get a new life. The finality in her voice. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her.
I check my phone for the hundredth time today. No calls. No texts. Nothing but the mocking silence of abandonment.
But I know her. I know them. She’ll be back. This is just another game, another test, another way of pushing me to see if I’ll push back.
Except this time, she pushed too far, and I said things I didn’t mean. Things I can never take back.
You’re fucking toxic. You’re everything I’ve been running from me whole fecking life!
I hate you.
The words echo in my head, sharp and poisonous. I didn’t mean them. Not really. But I was so angry, so hurt, so goddamn tired of the lies and half-truths.
But it’s not her I hate.
I’ve only ever reserved that right for my abuser… and naturally, for myself.
“Why are you having this shower so early, anyway?” Quinn asks. “Aren’t you supposed to wait until you’re about to pop?”