Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I sigh and nod. Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought.
He shakes his head. “You think I only want what you could give me?”
He pulls me closer, his forehead pressed to mine. My heart aches. His eyes are pure fire.
“Fuck, woman.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. “I thought—” I shake my head. “All this time, you’ve talked about getting me pregnant, having a baby. And then I saw why. I felt that.”
His face twists with anguish and anger. My heart aches. He’s lost a sister and a brother and just found out his own mother betrayed him. And I… decided to run.
His breath catches. “This is my fault. I own this. I haven’t shown you enough how much you mean to me.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You mean fucking everything to me. I heard what that bastard did to you, and I had to avenge you, now. I should’ve been more patient. I should have stayed.” He shakes his head. “I never should’ve left you to be assaulted by my asshole of a mother. Never. I’m sorry, Anissa. Forgive me.”
I nod, swimming in a well of emotion that hits me in waves. His eyes meet mine, unrelenting. On fire.
“I choose you. Not what you can give me. You’re mine.”
He holds me and lets me cry. Cradles the back of my neck with a gentleness I didn’t know he could give and I didn’t know I needed. He wraps his hand around my waist as if trying to fuse the two of us together.
I try to speak, but the words are stuck in my throat. My vision’s blurred. I taste salt and shame as a half sob breaks from me. I try to hold it in and fail.
“I want you. Not some fucking fantasy. Not some goddamn bloodline. Me, of all people, should know how fucked up that shit is. If I ever have a family, it’ll be with you. Even if it’s just us. We’ll figure it out. But you, Anissa? I choose you.”
I can hardly think straight when he says in a low, dangerous growl, “If you ever think of leaving again, I’ll chain you to the bed and make you take your meals in your fucking cage.”
He leans in. “And I am definitely branding you.”
I shiver. The word makes my stomach clench. I shouldn’t want something so brutal, so vicious, but the craving inside says otherwise.
Still, I cling to him, my heart pounding. “You’re crazy.”
“As if you’re perfectly sane.”
Right now, I’m still broken, still raw.
“God, Matvei,” I say. I drop my head to his shoulder. I try fruitlessly to ignore the way this feels like blessed relief. “Do you guys ever do anything normal and boring?”
He kisses my forehead and pulls me to his chest. “Semyon plays chess…”
“And you and Rodion probably drag race high.”
“Don’t knock it til you try it.”
We’re trying and testing—my snark and his sarcasm—but it feels tired and heavy. Uncertain.
I sigh. “If I try to leave again, will you really chase me?”
“Chase you?” His voice drops, low and calm. “I’d burn the fucking world to the ground to find you.”
My chest aches, my eyes sting, and my nose tingles.
I believe him. That’s the problem. And worse? I want him to mean it.
I should walk away. I should fight him again, tell him no one gets to chain me. But instead, I lean in.
I press my forehead to his chest, letting myself breathe in his scent. “This is complicated,” I whisper.
His arms tighten like steel bands. “Doesn’t have to be.”
For a moment, the world stops spinning, and it’s just… us. No Bratva. No Irish. No escape routes and betrayal, no demand to be any more than we are.
His hand slides beneath the hem of my shirt, resting on bare skin. The rough, warm feel of his palm sends a calm through me.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He doesn’t ask me for what.
I’m sorry your family sucks.
I’m sorry mine does too.
I’m sorry I’m broken.
I’m sorry you are too.
“Me too,” he finally whispers back. His hand isn’t gentle or cruel, just certain, branded heat, his words against my ear. “You can’t run, Anissa. Because I will always fucking find you.”
I close my eyes because I realize then—I want him to.
“Our families are fucked up.”
“Yeah.” The sun has set, but we haven’t turned any lights on. Sometimes, it’s easier to face the truth in the dark. “We’ll make our own family. We can, you know.”
I swallow hard, still leaning against him, still relishing the certain feel of his palm against my back.
“We can… what?”
“Do better. Break the chain.”
I can’t help but smile. “Break the cycle of generational trauma with therapy and positive life choices?”
“Jesus,” he says with a grimace. “I wouldn’t go that far. You do know who I am, don’t you?”