Page 92 of Trust

I’m used to violence, after all.

“I mean it,” I say, trying to ignore the trembling in my voice. “I—” I don’t know what to say to make him understand that this is what I want.

It doesn’t matter, though. He won’t accept it, no matter what I say.

I say it anyway. “I’m sorry. But we’re through.”

“We aren’t,” Adam snaps. “God. You get one dicking from the mobster and you think he loves you? Babe, I’mthis closeto getting the info we need to take him down. We’ll clean up at least one shit corner of this city.”

No,I’mthis close to getting the information he needs to take Ilya down.

And it makes me feel sick.

I know, objectively, that Ilya has done terrible things to people. I know he’s not a good person.

But neither is Adam.

“He doesn’t love me,” I say quietly. “But he doesn’t have to. I really am sorry.”

Before he can say anything else, I hang up.

He immediately tries to call me back, but with shaking hands, I turn the phone off and toss it onto the bed.

I did it.

I broke it off with Adam.

I don’t have to tell him anything else about Ilya.

I don’t have to go back to a lonely house, ignored and hidden from the world.

Oh, Ilya may not be announcing to anyone that we’re…involved, but he doesn’t lock me away, either.

Ilya.

I need him now more than ever, and I stumble toward the door. It takes me a few tries to unlock it, and I use the wall to keep myself upright as I head back toward the master bedroom.

Ilya’s still asleep when I crawl back into bed with him, but he wakes up as soon as I press against him. He raises his arm to pull me close against him.

“Mishka?” he murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

I hesitate. It’s not like I can tell him the truth, not in full. “I told Adam it’s over. Completely over. I…” I shudder hard. “I don’t know if I did the right thing.”

Ilya’s eyes widen, then he kisses my forehead. “Oh, Mishka. Good for you. You are brave.”

If I’m brave, why do I feel so wounded and afraid?

I bite my bottom lip. “He’s not happy about it,” I say slowly. “He might… try to cause trouble for you.”

“Let him,” Ilya says. “I’m not afraid of some pig.” He grins at me. “He is bully, but bullies crumble when you fight back.”

Adam will fight back.

He’ll find a way to let Ilya know I’ve been giving Adam information.

And when he does, my perfect, safe bubble will be popped.

Where will I go? What will I do?