Page 94 of Arranged Control
I swallow back tears. I’ve cried enough already. I hate the way Alex treated me, but I didn’t want Seamus to kill him, and I sure as hell didn’t want Molchanie to do it either. My ex treated me like crap, but it didn’t matter to me.
Molchanie’s insane gift only makes it clear that whoever she is, she’s completely unhinged.
Trust me.
“I know you’re convinced she doesn’t mean you any harm, but you just can’t know that,” Seamus is saying, hugging me tighter.
I squirm away and get to my feet. I feel unsteady and lightheaded, but I force myself to hold it together. “I need to talk to her.”
“Alina—”
“No, no more. I have to talk to her. I’m the only person that might be able to end this nightmare. If I can just explain, maybe she’ll listen.” I spread my hands, imploring him to listen. “I want to be with you. She can’t force me to leave you. She wants me to trust her, and I’ll have to make her trust me too.”
Seamus shakes his head slowly. “I can’t let you take that risk.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“I’ll lock you in this damn house if that’s what it takes.”
“Think Molchanie will like that?”
His expression hardens. “Don’t use her against me.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. But at least see this from my perspective. There’s been enough death around me already. I can’t handle more.” I walk to him slowly and touch his cheekwith the tips of my fingers. “It could be your brothers next. It could be your father. Or your mother.”
He flinches and puts his hand on mine. “No, Alina. Just no.”
I stare into his eyes and I know he’ll never change his mind. The man who drifts with the wind is changing. He’s been anchored now. And that makes him twice as stubborn as a ten-ton boulder.
“I understand.” I bend down and kiss him. “I just want to do what’s right.”
“I know, baby.” He draws me down into his lap and kisses me deeper. “Just stay here. That’s all you can do for now.”
I return his kiss, thinking,not everything.
Chapter 30
Alina
It’s a crisp, cloudy night. The moon is full, allegedly anyway. The Uber driver steers along the empty Brighton Beach streets and stops at the curb outside a closed strip mall. He seems unhappy about dropping me at such a random spot, but I don’t give him time to question it.
And I don’t give myself time to change my mind.
It wasn’t hard to find the address. Seamus kept the note in his office. After he went to sleep, I snuck out, got dressed, rifled through his papers, and ordered a car. Right up to this point, my plan has been going perfectly.
As I walk across the parking lot, ignoring the single random van in the far corner, I’m wondering if maybe this was a terrible idea.
Seamus is probably right. It’s not smart to put myself at the mercy of some psychopath killer who thinks severed heads are a peace offering or whatever.
But what other choice is there? Sit around and hope things work out?
To hell with that.
I approach the old sporting goods store. It looks like there’s no way in, but when I tug at the entrance, the lock clicks and it swings wide. An ugly, unnerved feeling jitters in my stomach as a blast of moldy, stale air hits me in the face.
I should go back home, crawl into bed, and wrap my arms around my husband.
But I’m a Morozov. I’m a bratva princess. I wasn’t raised to be a coward.
