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)
Stepping close, I shrug off my jacket and place it over her body, then gently press two fingers against her wrist. Her pulse is faint but steady.
“She’ll be fine,” I whisper as I release her.
My hand brushes against Yulian’s cold fingers, and our eyes meet.
Unsaid words filter between us—something raw and shaking, something that cuts through years of silence and deflection.
For a moment, I forget where we are, and I have the urge to thread my fingers through his, give him some form of comfort, even if it’s just silent.
I’ve never been good with consoling words or offering a shoulder to lean on, but I want to do something for him.
Anything.
I truly hate that I can be so emotionally stilted right now and wish I had a smidge of Yulian’s spontaneous energy.
At a loss for words, I remain motionless, sweeping my gaze over him. I can almost still see the bruises on his stomach and chest, and I don’t need to see his back to know it’s marked, too.
Just the thought of sending him and Alina back to their monster of a father makes my blood boil.
My phone vibrates, killing the moment.
Mom.
Fuck, they must be so worried.
I straighten, hesitating for a breath. “I have to…”
“Go, I know.” He doesn’t look at me as he gathers Alina closer, but I feel his silence like a tether I can’t cut.
I want to say something, but I’m apparently so bad at finding the right words that I just nod and turn around.
Carrying his unreadable expression with me.
The aftermath of the attack has been a blur.
It’s been a couple of days, and there’s still no answer as to who was behind it. All fingers are pointed at other enemy factions that aren’t Russian since no one would be foolish enough to attack their own.
Every Bratva suffered losses, but none as heavy as Boston’s—they lost two of their leaders. The attack was brutal, full-scale, and as the hosts, Boston bore the brunt of the backlash. Blame rained down on them, only deepening their wounds.
My father and the others on our side of the world have just been keeping an eye on the development of events. We mostly made it out of this unscathed, though we did lose two guards.
Let’s just say Mom and Dad were worried shitless looking for me. I couldn’t exactly admit I was with Yulian instead of heading to the meeting point, so I told them I’d been trapped. It was enough to deflect their suspicion.
They’re busier trying to figure out who had an interest in the destruction of the event. Uncle Kyle says it’s the Chicago branch, but that’s highly unlikely.
The head of Boston is possibly the only friend Yaroslav has within the Bratva, so he has no reason to ruin his event.
I’m sitting on my room’s balcony, staring down at my conversation with Yulian—or rather, the unread message I sent him before the event. My eyes drift to the horizon, soaking in the orange glow bleeding out behind the trees.
I’ve been stuck in my parents’ house ever since the incident, because whenever one of us gets caught in an attack, they tighten security until it feels like a prison.
My eyes stray to my phone again. I contemplated texting Yulian two days ago, right after the attack, but I wasn’t sure he had the time.
Now, I’m overthinking whether or not he just doesn’t want to talk to me.
It was much easier when he obsessively texted me and I compulsively ignored him.
Fuck it.
My hands move of their own accord as I type him a text.
Me
How is Alina doing?
Seems innocent enough.
He reads the text almost immediately, and I sit straighter in the chair, my leg bouncing as the dots appear and disappear.
Y
She’s much better. Went back to playing piano and being a general pain in the ass, so a good sign, I guess.
Have you talked to her? Did she mention anything about what happened?
She said she heard the gunshots and tried to leave, but something hit her, and the next thing she remembers is seeing my face when she woke up.
At least she’s safe. That’s all that matters.
Yeah. I’m glad I found her before anything happened. She just keeps complaining that she didn’t get to play the piano. A drama queen if I ever met one.
Seems like it runs in the family.
I’ll have you know that I’m the milder version.
Highly unlikely.
Pfft. Your bias is showing, Mishka. By the way, I’m going back to the island next week. You know, in case you miss me.
I don’t miss you.
Liar, liar. But just in case you DO miss me, want to join me there?
Kind of under unofficial house arrest for the moment. Mom and Dad can be overprotective.
They’re just worried about you after trying to play superhero.
That’s you, considering you were injured. How is that, by the way?