Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
He gave me clear orders not to step into Chicago on my own and that we should meet up in New York and regroup.
But I can’t do that.
I already lost so much time in Russia’s airspace, not to mention the entire night I was blissfully sleeping while Yulian was flying to his wedding.
So no, I won’t wait. I had to be here now.
I don’t care if it’s a suicide mission. Yaroslav won’t be stupid enough to hurt me, knowing my father will skin him alive if he dares to so much as touch me.
Uncle Anton said Yulian left late that night, so he must’ve arrived in Chicago yesterday. He wouldn’t have been expected to get married so soon, right?
My fist clenches.
I was so mad at my uncles for letting him go without telling me, for facilitating it, for twisting the knife Yulian plunged into my heart.
“He said he had urgent business in Chicago, and he had to go alone to protect you,” Uncle Anton told me. “We couldn’t exactly refuse.”
They still should’ve.
They could’ve at least woken me up so I could stop him. Or go with him. I would’ve done something to relieve this pain that’s been plaguing me since he left.
I stare at the texts I sent him. There’s no reply. He did read them, though.
Fuck.
I run a frantic hand through my hair, my composure ripping at the seams.
He can ignore me all he wants, but this will not go as he wishes.
If he believes he can step all over my heart and walk away, he has another thing coming.
But even as I tell myself that, my fingers tremble around my phone as I refresh our text exchange, holding on to a sliver of hope that I’ll receive a morsel of his attention.
Something.
Anything.
But nothing comes through, and my heart shatters for the hundredth time since he left me.
I’ve never been this distraught and broken. When Danika cheated on me and I wasn’t hurt, I thought it was because I lacked emotions, but now I realize it was because I never loved her.
Not even close.
Not even a little.
Danika was a replacement for the actual man I was in love with.
And now that he deserted me, I feel like my heart will rip out of my chest.
It hurts.
So much, I can hardly breathe.
My dad’s name flickers on the screen, and I wince as I pick up.
“You’re in Chicago?” he asks with veiled concern.
“I have to be.”
“It’s dangerous! You have no guards to protect you in case things go south. Just wait for me, son, okay?”
“I can’t.”
“Vaughn…”
“I don’t have time, Dad. If I must burn Chicago to the ground to get him back, I will.”
“It’s too late.”
My fingers tighten on the phone as my body shakes. “W-what?”
“The marriage alliance between Chicago and Boston already happened. Just come home, okay? Let’s think this through.”
My hand with the phone falls to my side as his words slam into me like a bullet to the chest.
It’s already happened.
Yulian said his vows to someone who isn’t me.
I’m too late.
Just like four years ago, I missed the timeline.
I’m trapped in a parallel world that never crosses with his.
Again.
I lost him.
Again.
No. No.
Fuck no.
A universe where he belongs to someone else doesn’t fucking exist.
Half an hour later, I’m standing in front of the grand gate of the Dimitriev mansion.
Yes, this is suicidal, but I don’t give a fuck.
They can shoot me, bury me alive, but I’ll still come for him.
I stand tall, my hand holding my gun at my side, waiting for the guards to come at me.
The gate creaks open, and suspicion twists in my gut, but I step through anyway, my heart hollow since Dad gave me the news.
No guards wait inside—strange. I move down the long driveway, my breath rough, edging toward a pant.
I still can’t get proper air into my lungs.
Is this a panic attack?
A life crisis?
Otherwise, why would someone as healthy as I am struggle to breathe?
I always thought I’d be the one to hurt him, but he’s the one who shattered my heart to pieces and stomped all over it.
My feet drag slowly on the concrete until they come to a halt.
For a heartbeat, I think it’s a hallucination. But then the figure rushes nearer—hair wild, shirt untucked against dark suit pants, movement so achingly familiar.
Yulian.
I’m ready to tackle him to the ground, tie him the fuck up, and haul him over my shoulder. Kidnap him. Hide him somewhere no one will find him.
He stops in front of me, panting, and I notice the blood splattered on his shirt, soaking through the fabric and marring his neck.
It can’t be—
“Not mine,” he breathes out, his face brighter, looking happy, radiant even, because…he got married?
The thought drags me under, as if someone’s cut the wire holding me together.
I grab the back of his head, pulling at his hair as I growl, “How dare you get married?”