Page 27

I heard him crossing the room, going straight to the dresser. I turned my head just enough to see him in my peripheral vision. His jaw was clenched, movements clipped, and his anger came off of him in waves. He grabbed his bag and yanked it open with a vicious tug.

His shirt still lay on the floor like an accusation. He reached for it, and my voice came out cracked and low, half-buried under everything I didn’t want to feel.

“Did you fuck her?”

Dimitri froze.

He didn’t look at me right away. He held the shirt for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what it even was anymore. Then he dropped it onto the bed and came toward me.

I stood as he approached, breath caught in my throat, heart hammering.

His eyes were wild. Dark. Full of something sharp, hot, and barely contained. He stopped just in front of me, close enough that I felt the heat of him.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, his voice rough and tight, trembling just beneath the surface. “You go home every night to Vera, don’t you?”

I said nothing.

His voice rose, edged with fury and hurt. “So it’s fine for you to go home and fuck your wife, but I can’t fuck some girl who doesn’t even know my name? One night. One stupid night to throw them off the scent, and you’re looking at me like I betrayed you?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Because they were true. Except, for the part he didn’t know. I’d never touched Vera that way. Not once. She was my shield, my co-conspirator, my friend. But never my lover. We shared secrets, not bedsheets. And if I told Dimitri that, I’d put Vera in danger.

So I kept my mouth shut.

I bowed my head. Stared at the floor. The silence between us roared louder than his shouting ever could.

I felt his hands on my shoulders.

Not gentle.

He shook me. Hard enough that my teeth clacked together, hard enough that I gasped.

“I can’t do this anymore!” he shouted, right in my face.

My eyes flew up to his. They were glassy, burning. Desperate.

“We’re done, Petyr! Do you hear me? Done.” His voice cracked like ice under weight. “If I have to find a woman, I will. And I’ll marry her and fuck her every night and smile through it. I’ll learn how to lie like you do. Because I can’t live like this anymore.” He let go of me and took a step back.

My shoulders sagged without his grip to hold them up.

He was breathing hard, like the words had stolen the air right out of him.

I wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat. I couldn’t speak around the guilt. The shame. The terror of losing him.

I had no defense.

Dimitri grabbed my wrist. I flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care.

He dragged my hand down and pressed it against the front of his pants.

“This is what you want, right?” His voice was a growl, low and shaking.

The heat of him burned through the fabric. He was rock hard.

My fingers twitched, not sure whether to pull away or hold on. My chest ached, and I felt my throat closing up.

Tears blurred my vision.

“That’s all you want,” he spat. “Just that. Just another fuck. Like all those quick ones in dark alleyways and at Sanctuary. And when it’s over, you go home to your wife and your goddamn lies.”

He let go of my hand like it disgusted him.

Before I could breathe, he grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me onto the bed.

I hit the mattress with a grunt, splayed out across the crumpled sheets and the ruined shirt.

A jolt of fear shot through me—dark, familiar. But what drowned me even more was the shame.

Because he was right.

“Dimitri,” I whispered, turning my face toward him, “I love you.” I didn’t know if it was a confession or a plea. Maybe both. My voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, but…”

“Shut up!” he screamed, louder than I’d ever heard him. “Stop lying to me!”

He surged forward and grabbed my shirt. The fabric tore with a sharp, sickening rip.

Tears streamed down his face. His whole body was shaking, mouth twisted with rage and something worse, something like heartbreak.

I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from my eyes. I didn’t even try.

He grabbed me again—rough, unthinking—and rolled me onto my stomach like I weighed nothing.

The mattress springs groaned beneath us.

He yanked my pants down to my knees, and cold air hit my skin.

I turned my face to the side and gripped the edge of the blanket, fingers white-knuckled. My heart slammed against my ribs.

He was behind me. Breathing hard. Breaking apart.

And so was I.

I’d never seen this side of Dimitri before. Not in the factory when his patience snapped. Not in the alleys or the corners of Sanctuary.

This wasn’t just anger. It was grief, with its skin torn off.

He was shaking as he grabbed my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. I felt him pull me apart, the sudden raw exposure of it, and then…

Spit.

A slick, shocking insult that landed with a jolt, both physical and emotional.

I gasped, burying my face in the blanket.

And then he was inside me. Rough. Ruthless. Nothing tender left.

A cry broke from my throat. My body clenched, but I didn’t resist.

How could I?

I deserved this.

He drove into me with a wild, brutal force, chasing something neither of us could name.

The mattress rocked under us, every thrust tearing another piece out of me.

My hands clutched the blanket so hard it ripped beneath my fingers.

“Give me your pain, Dimitri,” I sobbed, the words tumbling from my mouth in a flood of anguish. “I love you—I’ll take all of it, all of your pain, if it makes you feel better. Please, Dimi—I’ll do anything—just give it to me.”

“Shut up!” he roared, voice hoarse, breaking.

But I felt it in the way his body faltered. The cracks forming.

A few more brutal thrusts, and then he groaned, deep and guttural, as he released inside me.

His weight collapsed over my back.

Dimitri didn’t move.

Just breathed, and shuddered.

Then came the sobs.

Quiet at first, then louder. Ragged. Gut-deep.

He buried his face between my shoulder blades, trying to smother the sound but failing.

I lay there, tears sliding silently down my face, the sheets twisted around my body. And as Dimitri wept, I stared at the stained mattress beneath me and wondered if this—this violent unraveling—was the beginning of the end.