by Sara Hubbard
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who?” he demands. His fists grip the wheel so tight his tan skins pales to a shade of white.
“I don’t know. I thought I recognized him, but I can’t place him.”
“And no one else you know saw you?” He shakes his head in disbelief.
“I don’t think so.”
“Think hard, Luna.”
“No.”
He turns a corner abruptly and picks up speed. We’re headed on the highway back to his house. I want to be strong and yell at him. I’m just as angry as he is, but I’m keeping my cool because I know how he is. His anger consumes him, and I don’t want it aimed harder at me.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Tell me, Maxim. Talk to me for a change, and maybe do it in English this time so I can understand.”
He snaps his head in my direction. I can’t help my tone.
“There are posters all around town. Your image has been on TV. People are still looking for you. If it gets back to my father that I let you go, I’m dead. Yuri’s dead. You’re dead, and so is your mother. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Of course, it does!”
“Bullshit.”
I fold my arms over my chest and look out the window. I’m full of emotions, and they’re overwhelming me so much I feel the need to cry, just for a release. I hold strong, refusing to let him see.
“That’s it? You got nothing else to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” My voice cracks, and I blow out slowly as I ward off tears, but they come anyway. I want to put my head down and go to sleep and dream about a life far, far away from him. How can he think I wouldn’t care for my mother’s life? Or his? I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.
The garage door opens as we approach his home, and he slides into his spot. Before he can shut off the car, I spring from my seat. I rattle the doorknob to the house, but it won’t budge until he commands it. When he does, I yank it open and jog through the house back to my room. Tears fall freely now, and I fight the urge to scream. Instead, I slam the door. Then I open it and slam it again—harder—to make sure he heard it.
He’s going to storm in here and yell at me some more. I just know it. I grab a shoe and hold it over my head, waiting for him to come. Only he doesn’t. Five minutes, ten, fifteen.
Oh, no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t get to go to bed and think I’m the bad guy here. After everything he’s done. I open my door and storm to his room. I fling open the door and walk to his closet where he stands in his underwear. The sight of him does nothing to me right now.
“How dare you!” I scream at him. I biff my shoe at him, and it smacks him hard in the chest. There’s a red mark just below his nipple.
He steels and stands tall, glaring at me, before he saunters over, head low. “You hit me with a shoe.”
I glare at him. “Yes. I should have grabbed something bigger.”
He watches me from under his brow.
I know how he is. I’ve seen firsthand what he can do to people—what he considered doing to me. I don’t care anymore. He needs to know where I stand and what I think of him.
You abducted me!” I poke him in the chest with a finger. “You almost killed me!” I poke him again harder. “You hold me prisoner!” Harder again. “And I should have been fighting you all along, waiting for my moment to hurt you and leave this place forever! Instead, I give in! I do what you say and play nice because I thought—however misguided—you did what you did to protect me! Because you might still care for me!” I’m inches away from him, my chest nearly touching his. “When I got Yara’s phone, I could have called the police and had them break the door down. I could have told them what your father did and how all of you stood by and didn’t stop it! Did I do that? No, I called you for help. Big mistake. Because you accused me of lying! I don’t know the kind of people you spend all your time with, but I’m not a liar, and I don’t scheme. If I call for help, it’s because I need it. How dare you accuse me of doing that! How dare you!” I close my fingers into fists and pound on his chest.
His big, strong hands spring up, and his fingers encircle my wrists. I’m breathing so hard I can’t catch my breath. He stares at me with rage in his black eyes.
“You want to hurt me? Go ahead.” I raise my head higher. “Do it. Wrap your hands around my neck again and squeeze until I stop breathing. It would make your life so much easier, wouldn’t it? You told me it would.”
Abruptly, he walks forward, forcing me to back up against the wall. I collide with the hard surface and a gush of air leaves my lungs.
“I hate you,” I say as a tear streams down my face. “How could I ever have fallen for someone like you?”
“Fallen?” he says with a humorless chuckle. “You couldn’t run from me fast enough. I told you I wanted more from you, and you told me to leave you alone.”
“Because I thought you weren’t good for me, that you’d hurt me eventually. Tell me, how right was I?”
His nostrils flare as he pushes my hands to the wall on either side of my head. Then he leans in. His breath washes over me, his anger ebbing from his pores. Something shifts inside of me as my hate morphs back into desire. I gaze at his lips and lick my own.
Without warning, his lips slam against mine, and there is an explosion inside of me that radiates over every inch of my body. The kiss is forceful and urgent, and when he breaks away, it leaves the both of us panting.
The look on his face, my conflicted emotions—I’m not sure either of us knows what to do about this kiss.
He licks his lips and slowly loosens his hold on me before backing away. Those black eyes full of rage have lost their gleam. All I see now is sadness. I want to comfort him because that’s who I am. Yes, I’m stubborn and willful, but I don’t like to see pain. I always want to fix things and make people stop hurting. But I can’t let him treat me this way, kiss me, and then expect me to forget what he’s done. I won’t let him.
“You were right to leave me,” he says. “And you should leave me now. The code is 20190345.” He backs up further, his hands down at his sides, his fingers twitching.
“The code?”
“For the alarm.”
Dumbfounded, I’m not sure how to respond. “Is this a test?”
He shakes his head. “Do want you want. I’m done protecting you.”
He turns on his heel and leaves the closet. I stand rooted to the floor, unsure what just happened and what I’m supposed to do next. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t breathe, and I was his air. It’s the only way he’s ever kissed me, and it’s intoxicating. One kiss, one touch, and I’m greedy and desperate for more. So how can he tell me he’s done with me after a kiss like that?
The water runs through the walls as he turns on the shower. He’s not coming back, and it saddens me. Why can’t he just talk to me and be human for one moment? I don’t know whether I hate him or if my heart breaks for him. I’m not sure he knows what a healthy relationship is or how to have one.
I hurry from the room and go to mine. Inside of it, I pace, my mind spinning. Then I just react. I change my clothes and wash my face. I walk out of that room, descend the stairs, march through the hallway until I end up at the front door. I don’t want to leave, and yet the code is cemented into my brain.
It’s a test.
The thought sits in the front of my mind, and I don’t know what to do with it when my mind is also screaming at me to run before the chance is gone, and I’m back to being his prisoner.
No, I’m a smart girl, and staying here isn’t smart. I punch in the number, and the door clicks. I’d like to say it’s easy to walk through the door, but I linger, staring at the dark world outside, listening to an owl hoot nearby and to the crickets chirping.
Now or never.
If I do this, run to my mother and leave this city, there’s no coming back. My old life is over. M
y mother and I will always be at risk. If I’m caught, I know I’ll die, and my mother will too, probably in some tortuous way to prove a point.
And what about Maxim?
Will they make him watch me die like they made me watch my father? Will they offer him a chance to save his life or mine, and if so, what would he choose? I swallow a lump in my throat. There are so many things I don’t know, but one thing I’m certain of, no matter how angry Maxim and I are at each other, he’d never behave like my father. Because regardless of the awful things he’s done, I’m quite certain if given the choice, he’d never trade his life for mine.
Chapter 16
Maxim: I’ve never allowed myself to get attached to any woman except for Luna. What is it about her that makes me unable to control myself? Her beauty? That’s certainly part of it, but there is so much more to her than that. Maybe it’s her kindness. I scoff at that because it’s so contrary to who I am as a person, but I love it in her. I love that when Yara was hurt and Luna could have run, she didn’t. She stayed at Yara’s side the whole time. Even put on a fucking hat to hide herself. Was that for her or for me?
Niko wraps my hands as we stand by a window in a warehouse. It’s dark outside, and the moonlight shines in to add to the dim lighting.
“You’re not yourself,” he says in Russian.
I say nothing.
“Get your head in the game. This man is no joke.”
I chuckle at that. When my temper turns on, and it’s aimed squarely at an obstacle, there’s no stopping me. Chances are this man will hurt me, but I know I’ll win in the end.
“What’s going on?” he says.
I shrug.
Niko slaps me, and I growl at him.
He cups my face and laughs. “There he is.”
I roll my eyes and pull away.
“You want to talk?”
“When do I ever want to talk?”
“Good point, but we have fifteen minutes to kill.”
“It’s Yara. She got hurt yesterday. Yuri’s taking her over to my house now. It should be me doing it.”
“Ahh,” I see. “She’s a good woman.”
I grin at him.
He waves his hand through the air. “Ancient history.”
“Mm hmm.”
“Is that all that’s on your mind?”
I nod. It’s not, but I’m not going to get into details with him about Luna. I trust him as much as I trust the people closest to me, like Yara and Yuri, but I also know he wouldn’t give his life for me, which means some secrets need to be kept.
He walks over to a metal chair, takes a seat, and then starts to open and close his hands while his forearm rests on his thigh. As a kid, I saw him fight a man twice his size and come out without a scratch. I idolized him. I always wanted him to train me, though he wasn’t receptive in the beginning. After me, he realized he was as good at training as he was at fighting. Over the years, I’ve seen him slow a little. Massage his joints and sit down to catch his breath.
“You’re getting old,” I tease.
He scoffs at me. “I could still put you down.”
I nod. “Probably.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting too old for this.”
“Nah.”
“I’ve been thinking about selling the gym.”
I raise my eyebrows. I guess it makes sense, but I never thought I’d see the day. And I’m not sure how it would feel to go to the gym and not see him there.
“You serious?”
He shrugs. “Have been for a while now, but I’ve had it since I was in my twenties, so I’m not sure I could let it go to just anyone, you know?”
I move closer to him. “Have you spread the word around? Has anyone shown interest?”
He shrugs. “Nah, not yet. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hold out a little longer.”
Without a knock, the door to the room opens wide. Of all people, my mother walks in. She’s dressed in a slim-fitted red dress and has the lipstick on to match. Her hair is curled and pulled up off her long neck. This isn’t my mother’s scene, and I don’t remember her ever coming to my fights, not even the legal ones.
“There’s my boy,” she says. When she reaches me, I lean down to kiss her on the cheek.
She glances at Niko and offers him a smile. “Niko.”
“Irina,” he says.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
She leads me toward the window, away from Niko, and lowers her voice. “Your father thinks you might lose.”
I scoff at that and shake my head.
“He was even considering betting against you. I guess this man you’re fighting, this…Heartstopper, is quite the fighter.”
I chuckle without humor. My father is betting against me? Well, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. Nor does my mother coming in here to tell me. It actually makes a lot of sense. I’ve been avoiding her calls lately, and I haven’t been around the house since Luna came back into my life. There is only so much time in the day. My mother, always laser focussed on her needs, is here to further an agenda. While I’m sure I know what that agenda is, I feel the need to ask for clarity.
“What are you up to?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says innocently. “I don’t want your father or his men to lose confidence in you. You know it could be bad for you if that happens. Right?”
I nod.
“He still hasn’t made a decision about the future. And Andrei has been lurking around the house, more so than usual, being extra helpful and attentive.” She rolls her eyes. “You’d know that if you returned my calls.”
“I haven’t had a chance,” I say. That’s true, but that’s not the whole truth. The thing is that when I look at her or talk to her, I’m reminded of the future. I think about how she’ll respond when my brother takes over and I support him. She will lose her mind, and I’m not looking forward to it. She’ll push and push, and I’ll never hear the end of it until I’ve dethroned him or killed him. She can be difficult at the best of times.
“Oh, really? What’s more important that your mother?”
I shrug.
She narrows her dark eyes. “Or should I say who?”
With my hands propped on my hips, I glare at her. I must be seriously off my game if everyone around me keeps asking me this.
“He’s been training hard and working for Sergei,” Niko says. “You know how hard he works.”
She smiles stiffly. “Maxim?”
I frown at her. “It’s the truth. And if you’re here to motivate me to fight harder to make sure I’ll win, you needn’t have bothered coming here. We don’t lose.” I glance at Niko, who nods. “That’s not who we are.”
My mother taps my cheek with a bit too much force. “Good boy.” She smooths her hair back. The crowd roars outside the door, and she glances over her shoulder. “I suppose I should get back to Sergei. He likes to keep a close eye on me in places like this.” She beams.
I don’t tell her he’s likely distracted with other women. I’m not sure I need to. She likes to pretend that her and Sergei are in love, and he’s devoted to her, but she’s not stupid.
After she’s gone, Niko shakes his head. “She’s a piece of work, and she’s probably just done more harm than good.”
I make a face at him. “I’m not going to lose, Niko. Like I said, I don’t have it in me to lose.”
* * *
In the ring, I bounce on my heels and stare Emanuel the Heartbreaker dead in the eyes with a smile on my fat lips. It’s only the first round, and he’s already got in a bunch of good shots, mostly because I’ve let him. I crack my head on either side of my neck. I knew letting him get those first few punches in would fire me up and get me good and angry. Through my ringing ears, the enthusiastic crowd roars.
He swings again, jab, cross, jab, cross. I duck and dodge, keep dancing around in circles. Then he follows up with a kick. His kicks are weak, and his balance is weak. He’s full of energy, but so am I. Though aft
er watching him and asking about his fights, I know he finishes quickly. I’m betting that he doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with me. So I play with him, counter his punches and then move out of the way. In this ring, anything goes, but I try to keep it clean—unless my opponent doesn’t. Then I fucking unleash.
“Hit him! Hit him!” the crowd cheers. I don’t know if they’re egging him on or me.
He swings again, and as he leans forward, I smash my elbow into his face, connecting with his forehead. A shooting pain runs down my arm, but I shrug it off, while blood pours over his eyebrows and into his eyes. He looks like a fucking crime scene. He stumbles forward a pace as he tries to correct himself. Quickly, I jump into the air and spin around, connecting my foot with his jaw. A spray of blood and spit fling through the air as he falls like a fucking tree.
The referee is about to call it, but Emanuel pounds his fists into the ground and pushes himself up. Well, all right. I grin again, waving him forward.
“I’ll kill you,” he says.
He’s making it personal. It’s never personal in the ring for me but, okay, Emanuel, have it your way. “You can try,” I say, grinning wide. “I’ll even give you a free shot.”
I stop shuffling on my feet and hold out my hands. The crowd cheers so loudly their muffled screams blur into non-coherent noise. He puts his fists up and takes his shot. It’s harder than I expect.
The noise quiets as blood gushes from my nose. I’ve broken my nose enough times to know it’s broken, but this might be the worst hit I’ve taken. Tears stream down my eyes from the hit, and I probably look like I’m crying. No fucking way. My fingers start to twitch. I roar like a lion, the beast inside of me unravelling.
I spit out blood as he comes for me again. Holding up my hands, I block his punches so I can take a second to focus again. Over and over, he smashes at my forearms. Finally, when he tires and he’s panting like a dog, I duck around him and punch him hard in the kidneys. I give it all I have, and he lets out a scream that sounds like a dying cat.
