Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Who the fuck are you?”
The laser dot disappears. Molchanie’s shadow fades backward. I count to five before running after her, but I don’t find a trace of the assassin anywhere, only an empty back room and quiet all around.
Vanished into nothing.
I walk slowly back to my car. I’m seething with rage. I’ve never been treated like this before.
I have to admit, I’m knocked off balance.
No part of me doubts what Molchanie said. If I don’t leave Alina, then Molchanie will start killing people I love. She will murder my family members, no doubt in my head. My brothers, my parents, people I’m truly close with.
But I can’t leave Alina.
Not just for alliance reasons, although that’s a huge consideration. If we got divorced now, Ruslan will be livid. My father won’t be happy either.
It could easily start a war.
Ruslan’s not exactly known to be the most rational leader in the world.
But more than all that, she’s my wife. I said the vows. I made the promises. I slept in her bed and got used to her breathing at my side. I want to see her when I come home at night. I want to hear her in the mornings.
Molchanie wants me to give that all up.
But that feels like ripping off a piece of my own body.
I don’t know how to save my family without ruining my marriage and potentially starting a war.
Chapter 22
Alina
Ibarely get any sleep. Seamus tells me not to worry, that he’ll be home late, but still. I spend half the night staring at my phone, wishing he’d call and let me know that he’s okay.
The sun’s coming up by the time the locks on the front door rattle. I’m yanked from sleep and only realize I passed out on the couch when my husband comes into the kitchen.
His shoulders are slumped. He looks like a truck fell on his head. He doesn’t notice me at first, at least until I drift toward him, hugging myself and worried out of my mind.
“Seamus? Are you okay?”
He looks at me, and I swear, it’s like he’s seeing a ghost. “I’m fine.”
“What happened? At the meeting?”
He stares past me. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
I open my mouth, trying to form a response to that insanity. Nothing?! Don’t worry about it?! He shuffles away toward the stairs before I can say anything.
“Hold on, where are you going?” I hurry after him. “You just met with some super Russian assassin. And you’re just going to tell me it was fine?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Pretty much.”
“But what did he say? Why did he leave me a note?”
“Molchanie is a she, and we didn’t talk about that.”
I don’t know why that bothers me so much. In my head, Molchanie was some stoic, scary, quiet Russian man. I’m not sure what to do with this updated image.
But Molchanie’s gender isn’t exactly important.
“You talked about something. Would you just hold on and tell me what’s happening?”
He grunts at me, not even bothering to form words, and disappears into the master bathroom. The door slams in my face, and I stare at it, feeling lost, small, and confused.
Why is he acting like this? Clearly, something happened at that meeting. He doesn’t want to tell me, but that’s not acceptable.
Molchanie broke into my apartment and left me a note. Clearly, this has something to do with me and him, but I don’t know why.
Now he meets with her and doesn’t want to tell me anything?
I work myself up into a pretty solid rage by the time he comes back out. He barely glances at me before stumbling toward the bed.
“No, hold on, you’re not sleeping yet.” I grab his wrist, tugging him back. “Tell me what happened, Seamus.”
“Nothing happened. I met her. We talked. That’s it.”
“Right, I get it. You don’t want to tell me. But too fucking bad. Why are you being like this?”
His stare is hard. It’s vacant and distant. I’ve never seen him like this before, and it really scares me. “You’re safe from Molchanie. That’s all you need to know.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She and I have an understanding.”
“The killings are done?”
“As far as you’re concerned.”
“Seamus!”
He pulls away. His lips press tight, and there’s a hardness to him. I don’t understand it. I thought we were making a breakthrough. Things were starting to feel comfortable and right with him. Not perfect—but it’s like the shape of a good relationship was starting to form, and I felt like we might be able to bring it all together.
Now it’s like he doesn’t know who I am.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“What? Why? Seamus, you’re being an asshole.”
“Too bad.” He walks to the door and shoves it open. “I need sleep, and I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”