Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
My wife was dying.
Murdered by my enemies.
"Please, Kostya," she gasped, her voice wet, bubbles of blood frothing at the corners of her lips as she choked on what life she had left. Her fingernails dug into my wrist, leaving crescent moons of desperation. "She knows. Marina knows what I took from him. Solovyov will kill her for it. Protect her. If you ever loved me. If you ever cared—"
Loved? We both knew better.
I should have loved her.
Maybe if I had, things would have been different.
Maybe if I had, she wouldn't have been so desperate for affection elsewhere. Wouldn't have clung to empty promises from men who only wanted what they could take from her. Wouldn't have made the mistakes that led us here, to her blood seeping between the tiles and her life fading in my arms.
Love had never been part of our marriage.
It was a contract sealed in blood and power, a political move disguised as devotion, a merger of families instead of hearts.
Her hands trembled as they clutched at me, fingers pale against my black sleeve, as if I could keep her tethered to this world.
I couldn't.
The last breath left her lips in a soft, surrendering sigh. Her body went limp, head lolling back, eyes fixed on something I couldn't see. All that remained was the echo of her words, haunting me in the sudden, stifling silence.
Protect Marina.
Protect her little sister.
Marina, the one woman I had never been allowed to touch.
The one who had haunted my thoughts since the moment I put a ring on her sister's finger.
I had resisted the gnawing urge to claim her.
She was my wife's younger sister.
For years, I ignored the way my blood ran hot, my skin tightened from Marina's sharp tongue and firestorm eyes. The way she looked at me, not with fear, not with obedience, but with challenge. A wildness that called to something primal in me.
She was forbidden fruit.
But before I could act, before I could even think, Marina ran.
Ran headlong into the dark. Innocent and unprotected from the wolves circling her scent.
It was reckless. Foolish.
And for the life of me I couldn't understand why.
Her sister had been murdered. Wouldn't it have been natural for her to seek my protection?
At first, I thought it was because of her confusion and grief. Then I blamed myself for keeping my distance from her all these years. As the months dragged on and she refused all attempts at communication, it became apparent this wasn't just grief…it was fear.
She feared me.
She wasn't just running…she was running from me.
It was obvious she blamed me for her sister's death, but that was no excuse for putting herself in danger. With Solovyov out to reclaim whatever it was Veronika stole, and convinced Marina was in possession of it, her best chance of survival was by my side.
She was mine to protect now.
She'd thought she could escape.
She'd thought wrong.
I'd never give up the chase.
Months later, I found her.
After hunting her across continents, through Moscow's stone-cold streets, Finland's endless nights, Sweden's stark forests, and finally the sprawling concrete jungle of the United States, I found her hiding in a dingy hole-in-the-wall diner in Chicago.
My fingers drummed against the sticky tabletop, the rhythm matching the pounding in my skull. Each passing second was sandpaper against my nerves.
Every cell in my body wanted to storm into the kitchen and drag her out.
Pin her against the wall. Make her understand that she was never truly free of me.
But I knew I shouldn't, not unless it was absolutely necessary.
The last thing I needed was to draw attention to myself with a scene.
I had not informed my cousin, Gregor Ivanov, that I was in the United States.
I was in his territory without permission, the ultimate disrespect to a mafia boss.
The fact that we were cousins wouldn't matter. Blood didn't trump business, not in our world.
If I caused problems for him, problems that could blow back on the family, he'd kill me, simple as that. Family feuds had been started over less.
Veronika had already caused me enough humiliation with her indiscretions, her weakness. The last thing I needed was to let everyone know I couldn't control her little sister either.
No. Marina was my responsibility. Now that I had her cornered, I would get us both back to Moscow before Gregor was the wiser.
I replayed Veronika's last words in my mind, her dying plea like a curse. The weight of it pressed down on my chest. Suffocating. Unbearable. I never loved my wife, but her death was on my hands. Another debt to be paid.
Where the hell was Marina? What was taking her so long to appear for her work shift?
She had been cunning over the last few months, slipping past security, avoiding airports, using trains and cargo ships where identification checks were lax. I had chased her through dead ends and false leads, tracking whispers and ghosts.