Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Remi is the only one who talks to me, secretly, monotonically, even. Like everyone else, he hates me for putting his friend and cousin in this state, but he also said, “I understand that you did it to save your brother, but I still don’t like you right now.”
That’s okay.
As long as I’m updated about Creighton, I don’t care if I’m disliked, hated, or downright tortured for what I’ve done.
And I think that’s exactly what will happen as I stare into Aiden King’s soulless gray eyes. They’re so much like Eli’s, both in their terrifying edge and in color, that it’s absolutely horrifying.
Actually, no. Eli’s are probably tamer in comparison.
After all, Aiden is the father, and he seems to have seen the world with those merciless eyes.
“I asked you a question, Miss Volkov. Do you believe apologizing is what you’re supposed to be doing after you shot my son?”
My spine jerks upright, half due to the shock of hearing his ruthless, deep voice and half due to the information he just divulged.
He knows.
I thought Ava said they weren’t going to tell Creighton’s parents the truth. Or maybe they just meant his mom.
Not that I mind. If paying the price for what I’ve done will bring Creighton back, I’ll turn myself in. Hell, I’ll do it even if he doesn’t wake up.
I made a mistake and I’ll own up to it.
But my family, namely Papa and Jeremy, would never allow me to do that.
“I…” No other words come out. It’s as if my tongue is tied.
“You’re what?” Aiden closes in on me, and even though he doesn’t invade my personal space, my heart flounders to the ground under the force of his intimidation.
Now, I can see how Eli and Creighton became who they are. It’s a given with a father like this man.
He appears elegant and has the poshest British accent, but deep down, he’s cutthroat and utterly scary. A little like my father and all the other members of the Bratva.
Only, he isn’t a mafia man, which makes his personality downright scary.
“You have the nerve to show your face here after what you’ve done?”
I shake my head, try but fail to keep my posture upright. “He stabbed my brother and I thought he was going to kill him, so I…couldn’t… I just couldn’t watch without doing something.”
“All I hear are excuses.” He glares down his nose at me. “You could’ve done any number of things instead of shooting, such as physically stopping him or asking Landon and Remington, who were both present, to subdue him, but you chose to take away his life. You chose the easiest and bloodiest option.”
“No…” My lips tremble and moisture stings my eyes. “I didn’t have time. Jeremy could’ve died.”
“And what’s so important about your brother? Does his life have more value than my son’s?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“You obviously thought it when you pulled that trigger.” His voice becomes blank, so emotionless that I shudder. “Is it not enough that your parents traumatized him as a child? Are you picking up where they left off and ending the life he fought so hard for?”
“Please…stop…” My voice chokes. “Please…”
“Why should I? So you’ll feel better about what you’ve done? So you’ll get rid of the guilt and live your life as if my son never existed?”
I release a long breath and let my lips pull in a bitter smile. “I could never feel better about all of this or forget Creighton. You might not believe this, but that bullet killed a part of me as well. The part who thought Creighton was meant for me and that we were destined to be together. I learned the hard way that he isn’t, and I haven’t been able to live with myself since.”
He narrows his eyes, watching me closely as if he’s peeling off my skin and inspecting what lurks beneath it.
Determining if what I’m saying is the truth or just a mash of half-truths and well-crafted lies.
When he speaks, the timbre of his voice has turned eerily calm, the deceptive, haunting type. “Know this, Annika. If my son dies, I’ll haunt the fuck out of you and your family.”
A chill splashes down my spine, but it’s not due to his words.
It’s because of the shadow that appears behind Aiden and clicks a gun to the back of his head.
“Step the fuck away from my daughter before I spill your brains on the floor.”
Aiden’s posture and expression remain the same, absolutely unfazed by the threat Papa not-so-subtly poses.
As if that’s not enough, he turns around, letting Papa hold the gun to his forehead. “Go ahead, shoot. This is the only chance you’ll have to get me in a position like this. Use it well.”
Shit.
Shit.
Is he crazy? How can he provoke my father like that when he’s holding a literal gun to his head?