Page 60 of Cursed to Be Mine
Then he ends the call and tosses my phone back onto the bed.
I want to ask him who Vlad is and why he was calling Khalid on my phone –howhe knew to do so, but my words falter when he continues to stroke my skin.
“That was the police,” Khalid murmurs. His voice is so factual, without any emotion that it takes me a moment to register what he’s actually saying.
My eyes shoot open. “The police?”
I pale, knowing what they’re going to ask me. The massacre plays in my head. I struggle to breathe under the assault of so much blood, so much chilling laughter. That ‘man’ on the hood of the van… His eyes bore into mine, and the words he said crash through my ears, “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?”
Strong fingers grip my chin, and a blurry face appears close to mine. I flinch away instinctively, my following blink clearing my vision enough I can make out Khalid’s strong jaw and straight nose, his beautiful tan skin. My eyes fasten onto his, looking for a focus that’ll keep me grounded.
His left hand is in my hair as his right still grips my fingers. I’m squeezing his hand, panic clenching my muscles tight. I try to relax them, worried I’m hurting him, but no flicker of pain or relief crosses his face. Just concern. For me.
No one’s ever…
I swallow down the emotions, trying to focus on what to say to Khalid and the police, police he’s told tomeet us here.Wait –
“You’re on a first-name basis with the police?” My voice wobbles just a little as all the crime shows I’ve ever seen, all the recent news articles I’ve read about the ramping gang life in St. Augustine hit me. Why else would they know each other with such hostility? My fingers suddenly feel like they’re in a vice, and I struggle to breathe calmly amidst rising panic.
“Not all of them,” he says. Khalid’s eyes holding mine, his grip on me relaxes as he continues an explanation I couldn’t find the courage to ask for. “Vlad has a vendetta against my family.”
Holy shit, he means a mafia Family, doesn’t he?
I try to shut down my overactive imagination and just listen, but after everything I’ve seen tonight, all I can focus on is violence.
“He used to date one of my brothers, and it didn’t end well.”
Relief exits on a small gasp, but what follows is a heavy weight that bars the door to my throat as Khalid crouches in front of me. His face is full of concern.
“He called to tell you your mother is dead, and he needs to interview you.”
I stare at him as that weight grows. A numbness flows through my limbs and up to my brain. Sensation stops registering. His lips move, but I don’t hear any words. His fingers brush my skin, but I don’t feel them. Even the visual world starts to fade into a pinprick…
And then like a broken dam, it all slams back.
Sagging forward, I gasp. He’s instantly on the bed beside me, a strong hand rubbing my back. I heave on broken thoughts.Ma is...she’s...dead...how...Wolves?...Did they follow us?...Track our scent?...Can they find me too?
Jerking my head up, I look at Khalid sitting beside me. Is my mere proximity signing his death certificate?
“Breathe,kira,” he says as he shuffles behind me, his legs parting around me. His arms encircle me as he leans back, pulling me with him to open up my chest a bit. His lungs expand against my back., setting a pace I frantically try to match.
He breathes in.
I follow in a mad dash.
He breathes out.
A ragged breath parts my lips.
He breathes in…
I run after him.
He breathes out…
I pivot and race for the other end.
My pulse thunders in my chest, fighting for dominance with the feel of his breathing. Which to follow? Panic or calm?
