Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
But that girl is gone.
Her heart was torched in the cold bowels of hell, otherwise known as Moscow, and she’s been missing ever since.
And, despite everything, I like who I became leading up to The Games. I grew strong, fierce, and fell in love with my madmen.
God, my chest aches.
The only thing that soothes it anymore is the gift I got from my time with the madmen of Moscow.
“I’m hot, Jer.” I move from his lap and open the window. Arkansas has nothing on Russian weather. What these people call cold is practically a warm summer day where I come from. Tonight, the air is sticky and hot. It’s nights like these that I miss the bitter wind and mountains of snow.
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. I’m just overheated.”
He grunts in disproval. “You’ve been weird since earlier tonight at the club. Fucking uptight. Sucking up all the oxygen in the room.”
Sometimes I wish I could just punch him.
“Then don’t sit so fucking close,” I hit back with my words, resentment flooding my thoughts.
I fumble for my keys and quietly unlock the front door once we make it home. I’m silent as I slip into the house, dodging Jeremiah’s glare as I rush to grab a shirt to change into after my shower.
I zone out the moment I step under the hot spray. It feels good on my aching body. My hair gets washed first, and then I soap down every sore limb. As the hot water runs down my face, I cry silently for this stupid life I have. Eventually, the water grows cold, and I attempt to harden my heart.
I fail miserably.
Quickly, I dry off and change. I brush through my unruly wet hair and exit the bathroom, walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and when I’m walking back to our bedroom I sense him.
The chill that overtakes me makes me tremble, but still, my heart is soft and tender.
“Did you fuck those twins?” Jeremiah asks in a deceptively calm voice, arms crossed behind him as he stands at the end of the hallway.
“W-What?” I hiss, eyes wild. “What are you talking about?”
He gestures with his left hand. “You came in late last night and then the interaction tonight was suspicious. Even Adam thought so.”
“Well, if Adam thought so,” I snap, burning hot with anger at the both of them.
“And tonight,” Jeremiah continues, “you won’t let me fuck you. Have you let them cum in your whore pussy, Ally?”
“You’re drunk and sound just like Adam.”
“Do you want to fuck my brother too? Is that your thing?”
“Fuck off.” My voice trembles but not with fear. I’m vibrating with fury. When Jeremiah woke up this morning, and saw my bruises, he asked what I did to provoke Adam.
Fucking bastards. The both of them
“Who are you fucking?” he demands.
Rage swells up inside of me and my nostrils flare. “You’re the only one I fuck.”
Unfortunately.
“You know,” he snaps, shaking his head as if he doesn’t believe me. “I won’t stand for a liar and a cheater.”
“I’m not a cheater.”
I’m a liar though. Through and through.
“I won’t let you make me look like a fucking idiot,” he snarls, eyes turning manic. “I’d rather kill you than let someone else fuck you.”
Silence fills the room as his words slam into my chest. I shakily remind him of what he needs to hear. “No one else is fucking me. I’m yours.”
He barks out a cruel laugh. “Adam wants you.” His arm drops at his side, revealing the Glock in his grip. Has he been hiding it this whole time behind his back?
My heart rate skyrockets.
He has a gun. He has a gun. He has a gun.
Think, Alyona! Calm him down!
“Jer,” I whisper, voice turning sugary sweet. “Please. I don’t want Adam or anyone else. Let’s go to bed. Let me please you. Whatever you want. I’m sorry for earlier.”
In a few quick strides, he makes his way over to me. The butt of the gun slams against the door beside me in the hallway, making me jump. He nods with his head in the direction of the room behind him that I know is empty.
“Pop.” He says it softly but it still makes me jump. Then, he looks me dead in the eye as he points the gun at me. “Pop.” Another flinch on my part. Finally, his hand raises, and he holds the gun under his chin, grinning like a psychopath. “Pop.”
Fucking crazy ass bastard.
“I’d rather kill us all than see you with anyone.” He grabs hold of my hand and drags me back to our bedroom like he hasn’t just threatened to murder us all. “Lose the shirt and let’s go to bed now. I’m sure you’ll be back to your normal self by morning.”
Why did he have to say that shit? Why did he have to threaten me with the three pops? Not one or two but three. I’ll never allow that to happen. He’s given me no fucking choice.