Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Sooner or later, however, they realize such things don’t exist and are hit by a deeper form of depression, a form that will eventually lead to their ruin.
I don’t believe in myths. I’m a man of facts. I may twist them in my favor, I may use a distorted version to reach a certain end, but I do not go after illusions.
And yet, there’s an exception.
An illusion I will pursue.
The woman sitting beside me in the back seat of my car is a myth, herself.
A doppelgänger.
“Do you believe in doppelgängers?” Lia once asked me as we sat down for breakfast.
I raised a brow. “Doppelgängers?”
“Don’t give me that look. They’re real! It’s said that everyone has forty people who look exactly like them. They’re scattered all over time and space, so it’s extremely rare to find your doppelgänger in the same time and place.”
“Lovely.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe me.”
“I only said ‘lovely’.”
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, you are, Adrian!”
“Hmm. How can you be so sure?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is, then?”
“Imagine my doppelgänger somewhere in the world right now.” She gave me a soft smile. “If you saw her, you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It is possible. I hope it happens to you.”
“You seem to be the one intent on meeting her. Why don’t you wish for it?”
“No, Adrian! We can’t meet our doppelgängers. The first one who sees the other will die,” she whispered the last words with a spooked tone.
The first one who sees the other will die.
That’s exactly what happened. Lia saw this homeless thing and just disappeared as if she’d never existed.
When you don’t believe in something and it ends up happening, you blame that something because you can’t simply start believing in what you never have.
This woman is that something.
She’s the one who took Lia away and thought she could waste her life in the dirty streets without repercussions.
She stares out the window as my senior guard, Kolya, drives the car through the busy streets. My other closest guard, Yan, sits in the passenger seat, keeping an eye on the road, his hand close to his gun on his waistband. They’re strong, loyal, and silent men, who speak with actions more than words. Just as I prefer it.
Winter is gripping the door handle with both hands. It can’t be because of Kolya’s driving, since it’s smooth. It can’t be because she’s mesmerized by New York’s night view, because her eyes are unfocused.
It’s almost as if she’s fantasizing about opening the door and jumping out while the vehicle is speeding down the road.
She’s slightly unpredictable, so I wouldn’t put that action past her. I can still feel the sting of her slap on my skin, and a part of me is demanding I punish her for that insult.
But all will be well in due course.
For the rest of the ride, she doesn’t look at me, probably scared that I’ll act on my threats from earlier. She’s smart at times but has foolish patterns at others. She still doesn’t know who I am or what I do, but she’s already figured out that I’m not a man she can afford to mess with. And for that, all her walls are up with wires wrapped around them.
What she doesn’t realize is that I can and will destroy those walls until I get what I want.
If there’s anything I learned from my fucked-up parents, it’s to be like a river with a strong current. Not only will others think twice before they cross me, but I’ll also clear out everything in my way, whether it’s friends, enemies, or her.
We arrive at one of our malls downtown. It’s owned by the Bratva’s legal front, V Corp, the company that’s currently managed by the Pakhan’s grandniece, Rai.
I didn’t go through her to come here, though, because no one needs to know about this.
Kolya and Yan get out first and stand guard by the side of the car, facing away from me. Winter stares at me from under her lashes, silently questioning what we’re doing here.
“Remove the coat,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Stop talking back and do as you’re told.”
I can see the spark of rebellion in her aqua eyes, the need to question me again. I wait for it, intending to squash it once and for all, but she blinks away that urge and opts to pick her battles.
She unbuttons her coat and slides down the zipper before she removes it and lays it on her lap. I pull the thing from under her fingers and throw it out the window. Kolya catches it and walks with it toward the trash.
Her gaze follows the action, eyes wide, as if I murdered her favorite puppy. “Why did you do that?”
“It smells and makes you look like a beggar.”
“I am a fucking beggar,” she snaps, then clamps her lips together when she realizes her mistake.