17. Brooke
The strange sensation sits heavy in my chest as I fall asleep in his arms, and it’s waiting for me when I wake up in them the following morning. It lingers in my chest as I watch Lev walk into the bedroom fresh from his shower, with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, his glorious six-pack on display, and his golden skin dripping wet with shower water. It coils tightly in my chest as he dresses for work in another expensive suit, and it burrows deeper as he kisses me goodbye, his hair still damp from his morning shower.
When I hear his car, I climb out of bed and watch him drive down the long driveway, pass through the gates of the Zarkov estate, and disappear out of view.
War is coming, he says.
More blood will be shed, he says.
I think about the man on his knees, begging for his life. I think about the bullet Lev put in his forehead.
How many more men on their knees will there be?
Feeling numb, my hand glides over my stomach. Perhaps I could navigate this new life if it were just me. But now I have someone else to consider.
There is only one choice I have left.
Run.