Page 51 of Endless Love

“—who sent me text messages that verged on stalking,” I continue, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Who made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. Whoyoumade it clear I’d be going back with, since he was working with you. You’re an FBI agent. You know the statistics for domestic violence. This entire setup makes me think that I’d be ripe for that if I went back to Nate. If he was allowed anywhere near me. And I don’t think you’d protect me from that. I don’t think I’d trust a single goddamn fucker with a badge to protect me at this point. So?—”

Bradley's eyes narrow, his face contorting with rage. He slams his palm against the window, making me jump again.

"You don't know what you're doing," he hisses. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. That man is a killer, Charlotte. A monster. You think he gives a shit about you? You think he won’t do worse to you than you can imagine when he finally gets bored of whatever game the two of you are playing?”

The cold certainty in his voice sends a chill down my spine, but I force myself to stare right back at him, my jaw set, too. I don’t want him to see how afraid I am of him, how confused I am about Ivan, about this situation, abouteverything. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with," I lie, my voice steadier than I feel. "And I'd rather take my chances with Ivan than with you."

Bradley's laugh is cold, humorless. "You stupid girl. You have no idea what you're doing. When he's done with you, you'll wish you'd come with me." He stares at me through the glass, his muffled voice every bit as menacing as if it were clear and unfiltered. “You’ll wish you had the kind of protection I can offer you. Because if it isn’t him that makes you realize what a stupid fucking choice you’ve made, it’ll be his family.”

That shiver spreads over my skin, making me feel cold down to the bone, and from the way that humorless tone spreads into the smirk on Bradley’s face, he can see it. I might not be scared of Ivan, but I’m fucking terrified of his family. His brothers didn’t seem like the most capable apples on the family tree, but I've seen enough of Lev to know that I should be terrified of him. And I know what Ivan’s father, Dima, wants to do to me if they manage to get ahold of me.

I’d rather die than let Ivan’s family sell me to some billionaire. I’d rather take Ivan’s offer of the clean identification and a fresh start in Vegas. At least that’s a real chance. Because if the Bratva catch me and sell me off, who is going to save me?

Agent fucking Bradley?Unlikely.

I open my mouth to respond, my throat tightening until I’m not sure I can get the words out. My instinct is to defend Ivan, and that feels insane. Because from everything he’s told me—heisa killer. Heisa monster, or at least, he’s one by the standards of the life I’ve always lived.

But a part of me, the part I keep running from because it terrifies me more than anything that’s happened so far to admit, can’t stop the thought that runs through my head.

He’smymonster.

And in a way, it’s absolutely true. I created him, unwittingly, as thoroughly as Victor Frankenstein ever created his, if what Ivan has said to me is to be believed. According to him, he never even thought of stalking a woman the way he stalked me before we met. Whatever thisthingis between us, this chemistry, this magnetic pull that keeps dragging us to each other again and again—it created everything Ivan has done. And now I feel so thoroughly tangled up in it that when I look back and imagine never having met Ivan, never having felt any of the things that I have with him, even if it meant getting my life back?—

I don’t know what choice I would make any longer. I should know, but I don’t.

And that’s why I can’t tell Ivan that I believe him. I can’t sayyesto any of his questions. Because saying that out loud would make it real.

“Charlotte.” Bradley’s voice is coaxing now, and I see him glance up at the gas station window, as if he’s wondering why Ivan hasn’t come out yet, either. He leans in, propping his forearm against the edge of the window as if we’re friends, just catching up. “Look, just come with me. Nate isn’t here. I’ll explain more to you about Ivan and the Bratva, and why you’re in danger here. Why I’ve kept pursuing you. It’s for your own good. And you can tell me more about Nate. Maybe you’re right, and I should give him a second look?—”

He's cut off mid-sentence as Ivan comes into sudden view, his hand going around Bradley’s throat and flinging him back against the unmarked FBI vehicle, his body weight leaning into the arm that keeps Bradley pinned. My heart leaps into my throat at the one glimpse of Ivan’s face that I get as he lungesforward and rips Bradley away from my window, his expression a mask of cold fury.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ivan growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Bradley struggles against Ivan’s grip, his hand fumbling for his gun. Ivan knocks Bradley’s hand away, sharply, the edge of his hand connecting with Bradley’s wrist. The agent yelps in pain, and his face reddens with embarrassment, that furious hate filling his gaze again. I’m frozen in my seat, my breath caught in my lungs, my hands gripping my thighs hard enough that I can feel the press of my nails through the denim.

“Let go of me, you Russian piece of shit!” Bradley snaps, spit bubbling from his lips. Ivan leans in, his forearm sliding over Bradley’s windpipe as he holds him against the car. “Someone—will—see you?—”

His words come out choked, even more muffled now, and I feel a sense of satisfaction that startles me. I shouldn’t be happy to see Ivan pinning an FBI agent to a car, hurling threats at him. This is, as far as I’ve been taught my whole life,notwhat I should want. Ivan is a criminal, and Bradley is the one I should run to for help.

But Ivan is the only one who has ever made me feel safe.

Ivan leans in closer, his back ramrod straight. I can barely hear what he hisses at Bradley; the words are faint, but I can still make them out.

“Stay away from her. She made her choice.”

Choice? What choice is he talking about?A little bit of that unresolved anger I still have for the situation Ivan has put me in flares up, because the truth is, my choice was gone when I became Ivan’s obsession. When that obsession made me a target for his family. My choice was gone when he attacked Nate, and made him even more a part of all of this.

It was gone when scrubbing my life clean and starting over became my only option.

Or does he mean himself?Because I haven’t chosen him. Ihaven’t.

I’m going to leave, as soon as I have what I need.

Last night didn’t change that. Nothing will change that. But the voice that whispers it feels more fragile than ever.

Bradley snorts. “She doesn’t know what she’s choosing, if that’s true,” he spits out. “But she’s as stupid as I thought, if it really is.”

I watch in horror as Ivan switches his grip so quickly that I almost don’t see the movement, his other hand gripping Bradley’s throat so tightly that his knuckles start to turn white. He reaches with his other hand for Bradley’s gun, yanking it out of its holster and throwing it onto the pavement, kicking it away as Bradley’s face starts to turn an alarming shade of purple. His eyes bulge, and he reaches up, clawing at Ivan’s arm as he struggles. It’s never been so clear to me how strong Ivan is, until this moment. His arm is flexed, muscles taut under his shirt, and it would be arousing if this moment wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

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