Page 47 of Carved in Ruin

Anatoly shifts where he stands. “Rafael,” he says quietly, like he’s treading on thin ice, “she was just a child.”

I know. Or else she would have at least remembered.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Itshouldmatter,” he insists, and I don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes. “You’re hurting her, Rafael. And whether you want to admit it or not, you’re hurting yourself too.”

I bark out a short, bitter laugh. “Hurting myself?” I echo. “You think this is something we can just fix with a little heart-to-heart?”

“Why not try?” he presses. “This revenge, this back and forth—it’s going to destroy both of you. Just talk to her. Work it out like adults instead of—”

“Enough,” I snap, cutting him off. My patience is gone. “You don’t understand, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Anatoly stares at me for a moment, his mouth pressing into a thin line. He exhales heavily and finally nods, backing off. “As you wish,” he mutters, turning toward the door. Before leaving, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “Congratulations again, Pakhan,”

I step into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me. Turning the tap, I let the water scald my hands before dragging it over my face.

She’s going to be my wife tonight.My wife.

The words replay in my head as I strip off my shirt and turn on the shower. I brace myself against the wall, the tiles cold against my palms, but it’s not enough to cool the fire inside.

This pull I feel toward her—irrational, consuming, maddening—will finally be justified. She’ll be mine in every way that counts. No one else will get to touch her, hold her hand, claim her the way I do. No other prick will get to see her smile the way I do. No other fucker will get to hear her laugh, or see her in those quiet moments when she lets her guard down.

Tonight, there won’t be any question about it. I’ll put a ring on her finger, and the world will know what I’ve always known. Mila belongs to me, and God help anyone who dares to forget it.

My breathing is uneven. My hand slides down the slick wall as I try to will away the thoughts that flood my mind.

But it’s useless. It’s always her.

Her lips—soft, plush, the way they move when she speaks, taunting me with every word. Her face—those piercing blue eyes. Her body—every curve, her smooth skin.

My hand moves downward to wrap around my cock. I close my eyes, and there she is—standing in front of me, her voice whispering my name, laced with venom and heat.

I pump slowly at first, my grip tightening as the images of her become dirtier, filthier. Her mouth parted as I feed her my dick. The way her skin feels beneath my hands, like she was made just for me.

My pace quickens as I lose myself in her. Her nails digging into my shoulders, her legs wrapping around me, her voice in my ear—angry, breathless, mine. Always mine.

I let out a low growl. The pressure builds, and her name slips past my lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

And then I come undone, my release spilling into the heat of the shower. But it’s not enough. It never is.

No matter how much I take, no matter how much I claim, she’s still out there, untouchable, unreachable. But not for long.

Tonight, everything changes. Tonight, she becomes mine in every way that matters. And I won’t stop until there’s nothing left of her that doesn’t bear my mark.

I step out, water running down my skin, dripping onto the tile. I dry off, dragging the towel over my arms, chest, and legs.

I pull on a pair of black pants first before wearing a white button up, and I throw a jacket over them. I rake gel through my hair, slicking it back. A quick spray of cologne. Done.

Anatoly is already at the car, the engine running. He doesn’t say a word as I slide into the back seat, and I don’t expect him to. There’s nothing to talk about. The drive to Milos’s mansion is quiet. My fingers tap against my thigh, but it’s not nerves. It’s anticipation.

We pull up to the mansion. The guards at the door don’t meet my eyes as they open it. Smart. I walk in without a word, the sound of my shoes echoing through the empty halls.

The salon is just ahead. It’s just her father, Layla, and Anatoly. It’s all I allowed them.

And then I see her.

Fuck.

---