CHAPTER 15
ILAY
She sits in the back seat with me, placing a trembling hand down on the wound to stop the bleeding.
To be honest I don't even feel the pain, but I want her to feel bad for me. So I do what every insane person would do to get the attention of the woman he’s obsessed with, I fake it.
Letting out a low, pathetic groan to sell the illusion.
“Argh…”
Her hand slips from my shoulder to my cheek, Trying to comfort me.
I don't even register the pain when her fingers touch my skin. “I don’t… I don’t feel so good,” I whisper, letting my voice shake just a little.
“Don’t die on me. Please.” Her voice cracks, soaked in fear, and that’s all I need. Her care. Her panic. Her desperation.
I make my body shudder lightly, as if I’m slipping away.
When I whisper an apology and catch the way her eyes linger on the blood soaking my coat, the faintest curl of satisfaction tugs at the corner of my mouth.
I’m not in pain. Not even close. I’ve survived worse, two bullets in the shoulder are nothing.
She’s crying and touching my arm. Begging me to stay awake.
I lean into the role, my eyes glassy and unfocused, slacking my body against her like I’m barely hanging on.
By the time we reach the mansion, the doctor is already waiting.
They haul me upstairs, and I keep the performance going.
I groan when they move me. I let them sedate me even though the drug barely skims the edge of my awareness. I’ve been pumped with worse.
They clean the bullet holes, stitching me up.
When the doctor finally leaves, she walks in then sits across from the bed, fixing her gaze on me.
I can tell she's upset with me, but because I’m a patient, she keeps it bottled up.
“How do you feel?” I ask, quietly. She doesn’t answer.
“How do you feel?” I repeat, trying to gauge when I stand with her now.
This time she speaks, and her voice slices straight through me.
“How do you expect me to feel?” she snaps.
“I would expect you to take responsibility like a normal human being… but instead, you shoot yourself to manipulate me. Because you know I’m a good person, and you’re using that against me. ”
I stay silent, letting her fury wash over me. It’s raw. It’s honest. It’s beautiful.
“I just wanted to feel what you felt,” I say. “By shooting yourself?” she fires back. “You think that’s pain? The pain I want you to feel is emotional. I want you to understand.”
Her voice shakes. “You’re not emotionally intelligent. Maybe it’s the mafia in you. But you don’t get to shoot my friend just because he touched me.”
“That’s exactly why I shot him,” I say, calm and unbothered. “Because he touched you.”
She stands abruptly. “We’re not even getting anywhere with this. You don’t see what you did wrong.”
“I did nothing wrong,” I say slowly. “I have nothing to apologize for. And I would do it again. A thousand more times. If any man touches you, I’ll blow his head off.”
She stares at me as if I’m a stranger. Like I’m the devil she finally recognizes. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall,” she whispers. “I’m not yours, Ilay. I have feelings. Thoughts. A life.”
“You’re mine.” My voice drops lower. “You’re mine. From the first day I met you, I marked you as my woman. And I’ll kill anyone— even you— if you try to leave.”
I look straight at her, letting every unhinged thought I’ve been biting down on spill free.
“Oh, I see it now,” I say, grinning as heat flickers behind my eyes. “A perfect double suicide.”
The silence that follows is suffocating. “You’re insane,” she breathes. “You finally snapped. You finally tipped over the edge. Get over yourself.” She turns to walk away. “Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” I growl, stepping off the bed despite the tight pull of my stitches.
She twists around, fury tightening every line of her body. “I should’ve turned my back on you ages ago. But I stayed. And now, because you can’t have me, you want to kill me. That’s not love, Mr. Ivanovich. That’s obsession.”
She wrenches her arm out of my grip. “I’m going to wash up and finish your case. The faster I finish, the faster I’m out of this hellhole.” She turns around leaving without another word.
I stand there, staring at the door she just disappeared through. My shoulders throb from standing up too fast, I notice my stiches have pulled open, spilling fresh blood on the clean bandage.
But even through all the pain I smile, I achieved what I set out to do. Her friend doesn’t exist in her thoughts right now; I do. I’m the one she’s terrified of losing. And that… that’s the kind of victory a man like me calls perfect.