Page 139 of Wicked Proposal
I tune out Maks’s questions. He doesn’t call the shots—Ido.
But his words stick in my brain nonetheless.
Mia.For a month, I’ve been ghosting her. Cold. Clinical. Careless.
Except I’m anything but.
Because Mia Winters has crawled deeper than my skin. She’s in my head, in my brain. In that ugly crevice at the center of my chest I’d long thought empty.
She’s everywhere.
And yet, she’s not here.
For good fucking reason.
That night at her apartment, and then that day at the cemetery—they’ve left me with nothing but questions. Haunting, relentless questions, ones I cannot answer without raising many more.
What is Mia to me? What am I going to do about my plan? Am I going to avenge my family, or am I going to protect hers?
Am I going to lose her to a bullet or to the truth?
“Boss,” a recruit calls from the benches. “Your phone.”
“Ignore it,” I bark. Another fresh face is already stepping into the ring, ready to let me vent my frustration on his lousy footwork.
But Maksim clears his throat. “Yul? I think you’re gonna wanna take this.”
There’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like. Knowing. Urgent.
Irritated, I grab the phone.
And then I see who it is.
A bad feeling creeps up my spine. Horrible, sinking.
Without wasting one more second, I answer. “Mia?”
A gasping breath comes from the other end of the line. A ragged, sharp intake of air. Like she’s fucking drowning.
Dread fills me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I hate the way my voice strains at the end. Less anger, more fear. An emotion I can’t afford.
“Mia. Answer me.”
Finally, a whisper. “He was here,” she croaks. “At the hospital.”
It’s all I need to hear.
My vision swims with red. My fists clench so hard I could snap my own bones. My pulse thunders, fury mounting hot andbright, the kind that won’t be satisfied with a measly pound of flesh.
Bradley Baldwin is a fucking dead man.
“Stay where you are,” I bark.
Maksim flanks me as I jump down from the ring. “I take it I’m bringing the car around?”
I don’t answer. He doesn’t need me to.
