Page 140 of Stricken

But there's no one to hear my apology, no absolution to be found. There is only the relentless march of time, carrying me further from Nico with every beat of my broken heart.

A sharp knock at the door jolts me from my misery. I straighten, swiping a hand across my face, composing myself with the ease of long practice.

"Enter," I call, my voice steady, emotionless.

The door swings open and Ivan strides in, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe. He's the only reassuring presence, solid and dependable, in a world of shifting shadows.

But there's a furrow between his brows, a tightness around his mouth that sets my nerves on edge. "Your Italian was here again," he says without preamble, disapproval threading through his words. "Looking to speak to you."

My heart leaps into my throat, pounding with a desperate hope I can't afford to feel. I force it down, schooling my features into a mask of indifference.

"He'll stop coming around eventually," I say, waving a dismissive hand. "He's already stopped calling."

The words are sharp, cutting, but beneath them, I'm terrified Ivan will hear the regret that's choking me, the longing I can't quite hide.

Ivan studies me for a second, searching my face. I meet his gaze, refusing to let him see how close I am to shattering.

Finally, he nods, a slight incline of his head. "As you say, boss."

I stand abruptly. "I think I'll go the Enclave tonight," I announce matter-of-factly.

Ivan's eyes narrow. "Vlad, no." He takes a step forward. "Those people are dangero—."

"So, you keep on saying," I snap, cutting him off. "I'll be fine."

"Vladimir."

"If I can't have Nico and can't get my hands on Shtyk, the least I can have is a shot of adrenaline."

I brush past him, my mind already racing ahead to the night's events. The danger, the rush of speed and power and control. It's a poor substitute for what I really want, for the warmth of Nico's smile or the satisfaction of killing my mother's murderer.

But it's all I have left, the only escape from the cage of my own making. And I'll take it, even if it destroys me in the end.

CHAPTER46

NICO

I'm back at the Morelli mansion. Have been back for a while now with Uncle ill and Aunt begging for me to return. Licking wounds somewhere at the hotel seemed lonely, especially when rejection came after rejection.

It's one of those evenings when the air is not too cold and not too hot. Just the perfect temperature. I sit alone on the terrace, the whiskey burning my throat as I try to numb the dark thoughts in my mind.

Vlad.

The cold bastard who ripped out my heart and left me bleeding.

My fingers tap an agitated rhythm against the glass, matching the restless energy coursing through me. How could he betray me like this, after everything we've been through? The damn Brazilian coke. He threw it all away for a quick cash grab? Threwusaway.

I run a shaky hand through my hair, tugging at the roots. None of it makes sense. We had plans, him and I. Whispered promises in the dark that night, plotting our rise to the top. Together. He promised to take care of me.

And now… nothing. Just the bitter sting of deceit and the aching void where my heart used to be.

The alcohol blurs my thoughts, a sickening downward spiral of longing and loathing. Part of me still yearns for his touch, his deep voice murmuring my name in that irresistible manly Russian accent of his. Nico. Romeo. Baby.Detka. But then the rage rises, white-hot, consuming. He played me for a fool, strung me along with sweet lies and empty vows.

Since California, since the first electric brush of skin on skin… was any of it real? Or was I just another pawn in Vlad's twisted game? The doubts gnaw at me, shredding the last tattered remnants of my pride.

I drain the glass, relishing the flames licking up my insides, the momentary flare of pain that eclipses the agony in my chest. But it's not enough, never enough to erase the memory of his phantom caress, the ghost of his lips on mine.

Damn him. Damn Vlad Solovey and the day he walked into my life, all lethal grace and those cold eyes. I should have known better than to trust a viper, to bare my throat to his fangs. Should have listened to my uncle's warning. But I fell, hard and fast, a willing victim to his poisonous charms.

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