Page 78 of Beautifully Damned
I pull the acceptance letter from my pocket and hold it out. It took a shit ton of connections to get it.
Her mouth parts as she reads, and I see a mix of hope, sorrow, and something close to wonder. She lunges forward and throws herself into me.
Her arms crush around my neck. Her scent fills me. Her body presses into mine, and for a fleeting moment, I forget I’m broken. For a fleeting moment, I am just…hers.
I wrap myself around her, holding her so tightly my muscles ache. I know this is the last time I’ll feel her against me for a long while, and I bury myself in the moment.
I’ve given her one dream. I’ll give her more. Every dream she’s ever whispered, every desire she never dared to speak. Until she looks at me and no longer thinks I’m unworthy.
Her hug is desperate. Does she know that she’s holding a shattered man, fractured down to the bone, still clawing to be worthy?
I let her. I let her break me further, because the wreckage is already hers.
And I vow that I will either become worthy of her, or I will burn every part of myself trying.
?Chapter LI?
AYLA
A month. That’s how long it’s been since I left. Since Roman kissed me like it was the last breath he’d ever take, told me not to take off the ring, and promised he would always be watching.
A month, and I should feel free. Instead, I’m suffocating.
Classes are fine. Better than fine, actually. I’m catching up fast, and part of me is proud of how quickly I’m finding my footing. The old me would have been horrified at the strings Roman pulled to get me in so late, but I’m allowing myself to be selfish for once.
I should be happy here. I wanted this—dreamed of it—but the nights are longer without him. My mind keeps circling back to the way he let me go with just a kiss that burned and a warning that clings to me even now. Some selfish, ugly part of me wanted him to fight harder. To not give up on me so easily.
The phone has been ringing since the party Roman threw, my parents calling relentlessly. The first time I picked up, my father didn’t even ask how I was—just told me to use Roman’s “weakness” for their advantage. I hung up before he could finish. Since then, I’ve been rejecting every call. Every time their number flashes, something in me twists. I wanted to believe family mattered. That they loved me, in their own way. But the minute I got married off, I became nothing but leverage.
With a sigh, I try to focus on my homework. My pen scratches across the page, but none of the words stick. Roman’s face presses in from the edges of my mind. Why hasn’t he called? Not once. Not a single word in a month.
My phone lights up again. My stomach knots—I’m ready to throw it at the wall if it’s them. But when I see the name, my heart jolts.
Elena.
I answer before the second ring. “Elena,” I breathe, and for the first time in weeks, I feel my face stretch into a real smile. “How are you?”
“Not good,” she spits.
I laugh softly. “Why not?”
“Home feel empty without you.” Her words are quick, her voice low, like she’s hiding in some corner of the house.
Warmth pushes through my chest so suddenly it aches. I press a hand against my sternum.
“Ayla…” she whispers. “I should not say, but I will. We are not only ones who miss you. Pakhan too.”
The relief slams into me, heavy enough I sink to the floor. My back hits the wall, phone clutched to my ear with both hands. I miss them all—the men, their terrible English when they first land in New York, Elena’s cooking, the guarded warmth of that house. But I miss Roman the most. I miss waking up to wonder how he’d try to win me back, how he’d manage to crawl beneath my skin without asking permission.
“Roman misses me?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Elena’s breath hitches. “Ayla… Pakhan, he is not well.”
My pulse thunders in my ears. “What do you mean not well? What’s wrong with him?”
“He is not eating. He fades. Bratva hide it, pretend all fine. But Ayla… Bratva needs you. He needs you.”
My lungs seize. I can’t drag in enough air.
