Page 167 of Sweet Obsession

And Misha—brutal, broken, still arrogant in the way only men who’ve survived hell can be—stepped into the room.

He didn’t fall. Not immediately.

He just stood there, chest rising like he’d run miles, eyes locking on mine like I was air after drowning. Then he looked at Gabriella, really looked at her, and something in him crumpled.

He dropped to one knee.

Not dramatic. Not theatrical. Just a man who had run out of ways to fight.

“Gabriella,” he said, hoarse, his voice scraping out of him like it hurt. “I know you hate me. You should. I deserve it. But please... I need her.”

He didn’t look at me when he said it. His eyes stayed on Gabriella, as if asking permission from the one person who had every right to keep him out.

“I don’t care if she never forgives me. I don’t care if you spit in my face. But if you’ve ever known what it’s like to ache for someone like breathing, then help me. Let me try to fix what I destroyed.”

Gabriella stared at him, stunned. The girl who always had a comeback, who once threatened to knife a Bratva soldier for looking at her wrong—completely silent.

And Misha stayed there. One knee. No pride left. Just need.

And I couldn’t breathe.

Because I had spent two months trying to forget a man who had clearly come to Paris just to be remembered.

Chapter 28

LUNA

Gabriella doesn’t move. For a second, I think I might see the room crack open and swallow us both whole. She’s frozen, eyes wide in disbelief. It’s like time has stopped, and it’s just us three, her, Misha, and me, trapped in this unbearable moment.

I can’t breathe.

I want to run.

I want to scream.

Instead, my mouth is dry, and my body is locked in place, too. Everything inside me is trembling. The sound of Misha’s breathing is too loud, too close, but I can’t look away.

I can feel Gabriella’s fury building, even without a word. Her jaw tightens, her nostrils flare, and I know she’s going to lash out. She always does when she’s caught off guard. But this... this is too much for anyone to process.

And Misha?

He’s broken. In ways I didn’t think he could be. His pride? Gone. His arrogance? Crumbled into dust at his feet. There’s nothing left of the man who once controlled everything—everything except me. The man who thought I’d be a pawn, an object to possess. He’s not the same person. And yet, he’s still the one standing in front of me, like a goddamn ghost.

Gabriella’s voice snaps me out of my haze.

“Get up,” she says, her tone cutting through the tension. “Get up, Misha.”

But he doesn’t. He stays on one knee, his face scrunched in pain. His eyes are locked on Gabriella, but there’s a glimmer of something else when they flicker toward me—something dark, desperate, raw.

Gabriella takes a step back, then turns to me, her eyes searching mine. She’s asking without speaking if this is really happening. If I want it to be.

I don’t know.

I don’t know what I want.

Misha’s gaze slides to me again, and it feels like he’s reaching out without moving a muscle. I should tell him to leave. I should tell him that he’s ruined everything. That after all this time, after everything, he has no right to be here, in front of me, begging like this.

But the words don’t come.