Page 52 of Beautifully Damned
“Go. I’m done babysitting.”
I hit the ground, knees bruising against the wood. The cold seeps into my skin.
Roman is immediately there, crouched beside me. “Ayla—”
But I flinch away from him. I scramble to my feet, heart still racing, and run upstairs before anyone can stop me. My legs barely work, slipping on the polished floors. I run until I can slam the door shut behind me.
And then I crumble.
?Chapter XXXIII?
Roman
Something acidic and unnamable coils in my gut. Rage pulses through me like a fucking tidal wave, and yet I stand still, fists curled so tight they tremble. I want to kill Lola for putting Ayla danger. But I can’t, and I won’t.
Because Lola is my future sister-in-law. Some part of me respects her for stepping in, even if it meant putting Ayla at risk. Even if I’m seeing red because of it.
I watch Ayla run, realizing that I want to go to her and wrap my arms around her. “What the fuck were you thinking?” I hiss, snapping at Lola before the words can rot on my tongue.
But before I can unload every ounce of fury I’m barely keeping in check, Mikhail moves past me and pulls her into his arms. She clings to him like he’s oxygen. Their hug is desperate and messy. I watch them like a fucking voyeur, and what I feel in that moment is so hideous I barely recognize it.
God help me, I’m jealous of my brother. Of the way Lola looks at him like he’s her entire world. Of the way she can collapse in his arms without shame. That’s what I want with Ayla. I don’t do comfort. So why the fuck does it feel like I failed Ayla?
“Everyone out!” Lola barks, pulling away from Mikhail. “Now! Sergei—get the fuck up! You too, Elena! Out!”
Elena, Sergei, and the men in the room scurry away.
“You don’t get it, do you?” I growl, stepping toward Lola, towering over her smaller frame. “You don’t ever go against the Pakhan.”
She doesn’t back down. If she were anyone else, I’d put a bullet between her lips and call it a day.
“I do now,” she says.
“You listen—”
“No.Youlisten,” she cuts in, chin lifting. “I’ll play by your rules, sure. I’ll kiss the damn ring if I have to, but not when it comes to Mikhail.”
“You follow orders,” I snap, blood thundering in my ears.
“Not when it’s him!” she fires back.
I can practically taste the tension, and Mikhail steps between us.
“I’m barely holding it together,” he growls. “Talk to her with respect, Roman.”
“You’re fucking whipped, Misha. You’re not thinking straight.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I wonder, even as I say them, whether I’m projecting. Whether I’m already that whipped and just too much of a coward to admit it.
He opens his mouth to answer, but Lola beats him to it.
“Is he?” she asks softly, stepping forward. “Or are you? You nearly got Bratva men killed because you couldn’t stand seeingherin danger.”
She looks straight through me. “You want to talk about weakness?” she whispers. “Don’t look at him. Don’t look at me.”
Just as I’m processing her words, how much truth there is in them. Everything changes in a split second. Bullets scream through the air.Again.
I yank my gun out, ready to shoot, to kill, but the bastards are already running. Cowards. A few shots and they’re gone. But not before making sure Ayla’s out of the line of fire. These sons of bitches.
And this—this is the price of one goddamn slip-up. Of keeping her around longer than I should’ve. Of not accepting the Turk’s last deal, when they already wrung themselves dry.
