Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
But it’s a lie.
I’m not fine.
I’m in too deep.
And for the first time in my life…
I don’t want out.
He's kneeling on one knee. So gentle. So tender. “You sure yer okay?”
I don’t know what to do with myself. How can someone be so harsh, so violent—and then suddenly shift into this? It’s disorienting. Unnerving.
And yet something warm unfurls in my chest, spreading like molten honey.
“Yeah.” I’m still a little foggy. “But I-I can’t go home like this.”
My throat’s scratchy and raw. He nods, not asking questions, and I’m so grateful for that small mercy. I don’t have it in me to explain why. If I went home in this state, my brothers would demand to know what happened. Where I’d been. Who touched me. Who hurt me.
And if not them, then their wives would. They’re like sisters now, just as protective, if not more intuitive. Less oppressive, maybe, but every bit as watchful.
I don’t want to start another war. I don’t want blood on my hands. I don’t want to see anyone else punished.
This was one person. One predator. And he’s already paid the ultimate price.
I stare at Seamus.
Who is he?
And what else is he capable of?
“I know, lass,” he says, his brogue curling around the words. “I’ll take you back to my flat. But only for a bit. Just a little while. You know it’s dangerous,” he adds with a sad smile. “And I don’t want your brothers coming after me.”
He winks, and that damn dimple appears again, sharp enough to cut through the haze in my head.
But there’s something underneath his words that makes me hesitate.
“Are you sure?” I ask, unsure of everything, especially myself.
“I’m sure,” he says, more resolute. “Come with me now, lass.”
He leads me by the hand past the bleachers to the open night air, before he bends and lifts me. I stifle a gasp as his arms come around me and he cradles me to his chest.
I shake my head stubbornly. “I can walk,” I sing out as we march forward quickly, trying to sound confident.
“That’s enough now, Zoya.” My belly melts when he says my name. “Come back with me. I’ll get you something to eat. You make up an excuse about why you’re not home. Who’s back at your house now?”
Thankfully, tonight is one of the easier nights. My brothers are at some big event—something formal they go to. Every three months, like clockwork, they throw on suits, shake hands, donate obscene amounts of money, and buy themselves temporary amnesty from the local authorities. It’s a system that works. A necessary evil.
I can’t complain. Not really.
“Nobody’s home tonight,” I murmur.
“Then tell them you’re staying with a friend,” he says, his voice low, suggestive.
Maybe it’s the lingering drugs or the adrenaline crash, but suddenly my skin feels too tight, my body too warm. I swallow hard, nod, and grab my phone.
I text Rodion first—the youngest of my older brothers. He’s the most laid-back, the most forgiving. He’s covered for me before.
He knows what it’s like to get into trouble too.
Hey, I’m staying at Mia’s tonight. We’re gonna watch some movies, have popcorn. Nothing wild.
He doesn’t reply immediately, but I know he’s seen it. I know how this works.
Mia and I have a system.
I always carry a tracking device on me. A small, sleek little thing clipped into my clothes. She has my backup stuffed animal—my old Teddy. All she has to do is bring it into her room and drop the tracker inside. My brothers won’t ask questions. They never do because I never give them a reason to.
Until now.
Until I’m about to do something that would make them lose their minds.
I can already picture it—the vein popping in Rafail’s forehead, throbbing like it might burst. Semyon’s cold, disapproving glare, slicing right through me. Even Rodion, who’d usually take my side, would cross his arms and shake his head. Not angry. Worse, disappointed.
I’m not a child anymore. They can’t ground me or take away my phone. But I’d still be in massive trouble.
I text Mia next.
Hey, sorry, but I left early. I’m gonna be out the rest of the night. Can you cover for me?
She replies instantly.
Mia
Of course. Fill me in on the juicy details later.
Guilt twists in my chest. I’m lying to my best friend.
Sorry to disappoint, there are no juicy details. Not the kind you’re thinking of.
I gulp. My heart is beating too fast.
Mia
Fair, fair. I get it. But if juicy things do happen… you better tell me.
Will do.
I send it, even though we both know I won’t.
What am I supposed to say?
Hey, I almost got raped under the stadium bleachers. Then the dangerous Irish guy who’s definitely some kind of criminal, the one I’ve been quietly obsessing over, murdered my attacker and took me back to his flat. NBD, hugs!
Yeah. No.