Page 138 of Beneath the Light of the Moon

“I’ll pay them off,”Cristiano had said as they’d tucked Levi into thepassenger seat of Cristiano’s car. Although drugged, Levi’s breathing was steady and his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. They’d found Anika’s first aid kit and quickly tended to his wounds until Mikko could get him to an actual doctor.“They won’t want to deal with the extra paperwork and news attention this would bring.”

Mikko had only nodded, his body exhausted.

Now, glancing in the rearview mirror, he looked at Anika. Her face was calm and relaxed, so at odds with the way he usually saw her. Like a venomous snake lying in wait, he could’ve been fooled momentarily. She was no longer a woman trying to kill him while avenging her parents. She was just Anika. The fight, usually lining her body and burrowing itself in her bone marrow, had been sapped out.

Was this what she was like before all the trauma Alek had inflicted upon her? Would I be the same if my father had spared me his teachings?

Cristiano and him had also cleaned her up, dressing her flesh wounds. The glass pieces would be addressed later along with his. Mikko had a doctor he trusted on speed dial who wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Soon, the landscape would change from the outer suburbs of Portland to lush pines creeping in alongside the margins of the two lane roads leading him to his secluded house. As always, he was running toward his refuge, praying to whoever or whatever that would listen that this would work. He needed time alone with Anika; he needed her to trust him. Especially if he was going to ask her to be his business partner.

A fact Cristiano didn’t even know yet…

Mikko felt bad for keeping his idea to himself, but he didn’t want to reveal his plans yet in case they failed.

In case I have to kill her,he thought darkly.

The idea made him shudder; the thought of her being gone foreverwas detrimental to his mental state. He should feel the opposite, her death relieving to him as it expunged his need for retribution and being her fucking clean up crew. He could pin Ivan and Dimitri’s deaths on someone else and leave all this in the past.

But his damned heart didn’t make it that simple. In a way, he felt bad for her, knew she’d also suffered at the hands of his father. It was a grief they shared in a not so different way.

The very breath in her lungs spoke to his weakness of killing her.

That and her name, herrealname, had unlocked a memory. Alek mumbling in his study late one night about people unwilling to accept his offers—his generosity. Mikko had been young, unweathered in the sector of his father’s dealings, but still he knew.

Khalid Naidu, current owner of Northeast Market.

As clear as if he’d been looking at the document now, Mikko recalled the name and place burned into his head. He’d seen it on paperwork on Alek’s desk, a red asterisk on a map of land his father wanted to buy and redevelop. A sinking feeling wove itself into Mikko’s gut.

Focusing on the road, he pressed the gas pedal a little harder, urging his Audi faster. There were still too many miles between him and his oceanside house for his comfort. The sun was rising slowly, its bright kiss barely visible above the tree-lined horizon before him.

I’m in control, I can do this,he internally chanted as the miles ticked away.

Cristiano would hold down the business while he was away, and many work items could still be done from Mikko’s house. Although he’d have to be careful where he left his electronics lest Anika try to ruin his life.Again.

Foam capped waves peaked through ahead, the pieces of his plans falling into place.

I can do this,he repeated.

Soon, he’d be greeted by an ordinary wooden gate, one leading down a winding drive carved into a cliffside before a home sculpted into the rocks overlooking the ocean materialized.

Home sweet home.

41

Fractured Memories

Anika

Her body felt wrong.

Her skin was too tight and her bones brittle. Every muscle she could feel was bruised—torn and tattered. Her lashes fluttered against her cheek as she futilely tried to open her eyes. It was as if she was there, but her body couldn’t keep up with brain’s commands. She was a prisoner in her own skin, the sack of meat preventing her from waking up. From fighting whatever this feeling was off.

Flashes of light and warmth scattered across her battered skin, and she assumed daylight was streaming in. Pain radiated in her skull making the flashes of light excruciating even if the warmth was welcomed. A tentative swallow proved difficult, her tongue dry and her throat sore. If her muscles could cooperate, a cough would’ve spewed from her lips, but she was too tired.

Oh, so tired…

The steady thrum of a car moving beneath her aching head lulledher back to sleep, distracting her from the haze in her mind and the throbbing in her arm.