Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Alexei’s eyebrows rise, and I pull my hand back, my stomach twisting as I realize what I’ve said. Between being rushed into surgery and the grueling treatment protocol that followed, I’ve managed not to think too much about the man whose throat I slit, but I haven’t forgotten him.
He has featured prominently in more than one of my nightmares over the past few weeks.
My face must reflect what I’m thinking because Alexei clasps my shoulders in a firm grip and says, “Do not go there. It was self-defense at its most basic. He attacked you, remember?”
I take a deep breath and nod. I’ve been telling myself that as well, and it helps, but not entirely. I still took a life. That man, potential rapist or not, had been someone’s son, brother, friend. Even now, there must be people mourning him.
Alexei’s eyes narrow on my face. “You’re still thinking about that piece of shit, aren’t you?” Before I can reply, he sighs and says, “Listen, your brothers and I didn’t tell you this because we didn’t want to stir up any bad memories in case you’d moved on, but you did the world a favor by getting rid of him. That night, you wouldn’t have been that fucker’s first victim. He was accused of rape twice in the past five years.”
“What?” That goes so far beyond the “pervy idiot” description Birgit gave me. “Why wasn’t he in jail then?”
“Because his father has some connections in the local law enforcement, and they were able to spin it as the girl being too drunk or high to be reliable. Each time, the charges were dropped.”
I drag in a breath, my head spinning from the new information when Alexei says, “You know what? Let’s go for that walk—we could both use a change of scenery. But we turn back the second you get the least bit tired.”
And just like that, I get another taste of freedom.
Chapter 21
Alexei
Alina insists on changing before leaving the house, and I don’t object. I love the way she looks in her lounge clothes, all cozy and comfortable, with her beautiful face completely bare, but I know she likes to dress up. Besides, it’s getting cold out, so she needs to wear something warm.
So I wait while pacing around the living room, doing my best to think about all the ways I’ll fuck her tonight instead of dwelling on the soul-crushing call with my father and his agonized plea at the end. Normally, this strategy would work only too well, but I’m too wound up right now, too much on edge to concentrate on anything but the poisonous cocktail of fury and guilt swirling inside me.
I lied to Alina. It isn’t a walk I need but a hard, bloody fight. And not with my guards—I need them all intact for what I’m sure the Molotovs are planning. An underground MMA gym was going to be my destination but no longer. Since Alina is coming with me, it has to be an actual walk. A leisurely lakefront stroll instead of the no-holds-barred, grueling battle that would’ve let me work off some of the toxic rage burning me up inside.
Finding my hands clenched, I take a breath and slowly let it out as I consciously uncurl my fingers.
I’m not the only one who needs to get out of my head, and if a walk helps Alina take her mind off what happened in that piece-of-shit hostel, it’s the least I can do.
It’s my fault this happened to her. I should’ve been there to protect her, to keep her safe.
Just like I should’ve kept my sister safe all those years ago.
Fuck.
I slam the door on that thought before it can cause the rage to boil over.
Now is not the time to think about Ksenia and my father. Not when I have no outlet for the violence bubbling inside me. I would never in a million years hurt Alina, but the strangers we meet today might not be so lucky if I don’t get a hold of myself.
Finally, she emerges from the bedroom—and I forget about everything but her.
She’s wearing a cream-colored sweater-dress that falls to the middle of her calves and hugs her slim curves in a way that sends all my blood rushing down south. She’s topped it with a beige leather jacket lined with shearling, and on her feet is a pair of brown riding boots. But it’s her face that steals my breath: her plush, soft lips are once again painted red, her jade eyes are smoky and mysterious, and her porcelain skin shimmers with a subtle peach tint on the apples of her cheeks.
She’s so fucking gorgeous it’s unreal.
Finally finding my tongue, I tell her so, and a pretty flush adds more color to her face as she rubs her hand over her short hair.