Page 189 of Vicious Games

My gaze drifts toward the house, where Aleksandr is guiding Elena inside. Uncle Misha is waiting for her at the door, his expression unreadable.

And just like that, everything feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.

“I thought… I thought we’d have more time,” I whisper, staring into the warm chestnut of his eyes.

“And who says we don’t?” He smiles gently. “Just because you’re staying here for a bit doesn’t mean it’s forever.”

My brows furrow at the ominous sound of that. Like he’s just jinxed us somehow.

“Can’t you stay another week? Another day even?”

Lucky shakes his head, looking as torn as I feel.

“My father’s already on a rampage. I don’t want to risk him doing something reckless just to drag Stella and me home.”

I bite my bottom lip and nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Hey, look at me,” he says, lifting my chin so my eyes meet his. “This is just a little hiccup in our long life together. Soon you’ll be home, and we’ll go back to how it used to be.”

“I don’t think my life will ever be the same after this,” I tell him honestly.

He glances over his shoulder at my uncles, then back to me.

“Yeah… I guess it won’t. But that doesn’t change how we feel about each other, does it?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“You still love me, right?”

Instead of answering, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him tight.

“How can you even ask me that? Of course I do.”

“Doesn’t hurt to check, babe,” he teases softly, but then his grip around me tightens. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss the shit out of you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I whisper, tears already burning behind my eyes.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, brushing a thumb over my cheek.

“We’re the real deal, Frankie. You and me… we’re meant to be. So stay here with your family as long as you need. And when you’re ready, come home. Come back to me. Okay?”

I don’t have time to nod before Lucky leans in and kisses me.

It’s a soft kiss, filled with everything we’re feeling—love, sadness, hope, fear. A kiss that says goodbye, already counting the seconds until our lips meet again.

When it ends, I already feel like I’m mourning him.

“Drive me to the airport?” he asks quietly, almost sheepishly.

I loop my arm through his and rest my head on his forearm as we walk toward the waiting car.

The two-hour ride to the private airport doesn’t feel long enough.

Lucky and I barely speak. We just stare at each other, both needing to say how much we love each other but not having the strength to get the words out.

It doesn’t help that Kirill and Stella are going at it in the same car, shouting so loud it drowns out everything else. Normally, Lucky would’ve cracked a joke—told them to get a room and screw the anger out of their system—but neither of us is in the mood.

When we finally pull up to the familiar runway and see the jet already prepped for takeoff, my stomach knots. It’s all happening too fast.

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