Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“You didn’t see him lose it and threaten to rape the Albanian with all objects available, so shut it,” Maksim says.
“He…what?”
“His exact words were”—Maksim clears his throat and mimics Kirill’s apathetic tone—“listen to me, cockroach, if you don’t tell me where you took him, I’m going to have you raped. I’ll assault you with every object available until I fucking break you. Maybe then you’ll know how it feels, yeah?”
I can almost imagine the unhinged look on Kirill’s face when he said those words. A part of me wishes I had been there to witness that side of him.
I must be wrong in the head.
“Besides,” Maksim continues. “Boss is not the type who leaves a man behind. If getting you back had meant going through more trouble than this, I’m sure he still would’ve done it.”
That’s certainly true.
When I was shot during that special operations mission, we weren’t that close, but he still carried me to safety. It’s not Kirill’s modus operandi to leave a man behind.
“Don’t get into shit again.” Maksim slaps my cheek with the back of his hand, teasingly. Almost lovingly.
Yuri’s face hardens. In an instant, he grabs his wrist and twists his arm behind his back, looking at him with a weird type of tension. This is actually not the first time he’s done it. Whenever Maks starts acting too familiar with anyone in his immediate surroundings—as in being himself—Yuri would become surprisingly violent. I haven’t thought much of it before, but I think this isn’t just part of Yuri’s methods to keep Maksim under leash.
It feels like…more.
“The fuck?” Maksim struggles against Yuri. “Let me go.”
The latter releases him with a jerk as if just realizing that he might have done something he shouldn’t have.
Maksim rotates his wrist, frowning. “I didn’t know you could be this…strong.”
“You were being an idiot.” Yuri’s wise mask slips back in place and he pushes me in the direction of the car. “Let’s get you home, Sasha.”
Home.
I like the sound of that.
After all the hell I’ve been through today, it’s comforting to know that I have a home to go back to.
Now, if the reason I consider that place home—Kirill—would tell me why he’s so angry, it’d be great.
Thankfully, the drug doesn’t have a permanent effect, and it almost entirely wears off an hour after I get to the house.
I can move my limbs voluntarily, and my strength slowly returns to its usual level. My arm’s injury is shallow and doesn’t even need stitches. It’ll add another scar, though.
One more battle scar, Sasha.
I stopped counting all the scars I’ve gotten, especially in the army. That was when I officially stopped being a sheltered young lady.
After the doctor finishes bandaging my arm, Anna brings me a tray of food and stands there like a statue until I’m finished.
She doesn’t have to say a word. Her silent presence is enough to order me around. Sometimes, she feels like the female version of Viktor with her tunnel-like vision about protecting and ensuring Kirill’s well-being.
I guess, lately, I’m also turning into another version of them, because protecting Kirill has become my top priority since Russia.
After I finish, she fetches the tray. “Stop getting yourself in trouble, young man.”
And then she’s gone.
I’m ready for this day to finally end. Alas, both Karina and Konstantin barge inside next. Yuri and Maksim, who were playing the role of my caretakers, have to push to the side to make room for them.
“Oh my God, oh my God…” Karina grabs onto my good arm, her eyes filling with tears. “Are you okay? Look at all the blood!”
She motions at the red smearing my shirt, and her expression falls further. She’s in some of her fluffy sleeping pajamas that she doesn’t usually wear outside of her room.
“I’m fine. It’s just a little graze. Nothing to write home about.”
“But you were shot!”
“There’s no bullet. I didn’t even need stitches.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I’m glad you’re all right.” Konstantin studies my surroundings. “Where’s my fucker of a brother? Shouldn’t he pay a visit?”
I suppress a smile. Konstantin wants to ask if Kirill is okay, but he vehemently refuses to say it out loud, so he chose this route as middle ground.
“He was called in by the Pakhan.”
“Is he okay?” Karina asks point-blank, definitely not as concerned about saving face as her brother.
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
She and Konstantin release a breath, and I exchange a look with both of them.
Karina clears her throat. “I don’t want anyone other than me to kill him, you understand, right?”
“I certainly do.”
“I’m just asking because if he died, you could easily become my guard,” Konstantin says.
“Dream on.”
The whole room grows silent at the newcomer’s voice.
Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop my heart from doing that slight jump or forbid my body temperature from rising.
Will there be a day when Kirill Morozov won’t flip my world upside down by merely existing?