Chapter 9Elena
9
Elena
I ’m stunned as I push through the double doors of the medical building. My mind is still swimming with lecture notes on trauma procedures when I spot him.
Casey.
I never expected to see Casey again after everything he’d done. Not after he’d stolen my inheritance, my future, and my trust.
He stands near the bottom of the steps, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the autumn wind that whips across the medical campus. He looks different, thinner and more haggard, like something’s been eating away at him from the inside. His sandy blond hair is longer than he used to keep it, unwashed and hanging in his eyes, obscuring the hazel irises that once convinced me he was honest.
The confident swagger I once found charming is gone, replaced by nervous energy as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. His worn sneakers scuff against the concrete. He hasn’t spotted me yet, and for a moment, I consider turning around and slipping back through those double doors before he sees me.
Then he glances up, and our gazes lock. He freezes mid-fidget. Even from twenty feet away, I can see his throat bob as he swallows.
I falter. For a split second, I consider turning around and taking the coward’s way out. Instead, I square my shoulders and continue down the steps.
“Elena.”
My name on his lips sends a jolt of anger through me. How dare he show up here? After weeks of silence, after emptying our joint account, of which the lion’s share was mine, and disappearing without a trace? “What are you doing here?” I keep my voice steady, refusing to show how much his presence rattles me.
He takes a step closer, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his clothes hang loosely on his frame. “I needed to see you.”
“You needed to see me,” I repeat the words angrily, each syllable sharper than the last. My throat constricts as months of betrayal surge forward. “Funny how that need didn’t exist when you were stealing my money and disappearing in the middle of the night.”
Casey winces, his shoulders curling inward. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead despite the cool evening air. “Elena, I screwed up.” His voice drops to contrite and pleading, that familiar tone he used whenever he wanted something. “What I did was unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable doesn’t begin to cover it.” My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging half-moons into my palms. I welcome the pain which keeps me from slapping him. “You stole everything I had. My mother’s inheritance. Money meant for my education.” I step closer, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Money she saved her entire life to leave me. Do you have any idea what these last weeks have been like?”
“I was desperate,” he pleads, taking another step toward me. He reaches for me, but I jerk away. “The debts... They were going to hurt me. I thought I could win it back.”
The rage I’ve suppressed for weeks bubbles to the surface. “Do you have any idea what you did to me? I almost lost everything.” I had to marry a stranger in the bratva to save myself. Somehow, I hold back those words.
“Let’s talk,” he says, desperation edging into his voice. “I can fix this.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “Like hell you can.”
“I have a plan,” he insists, grabbing my wrist. His fingers dig into my skin. “I can get the money back. All of it. Just give me another chance.”
The familiar words hit me like a slap. Another chance. Another plan. Another empty promise. How many times had I heard those same assurances during our relationship? How many times had I believed him?
The purr of a powerful engine draws my attention to the street when a sleek black Mercedes pulls up to the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the setting sun. The car stops directly in front of us, and the driver’s door opens. Damir steps out gracefully. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders, the fabric clearly expensive and tailored perfectly to his muscular build. His dark hair is styled impeccably, and his gaze locks onto me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe for a second.
Casey’s grip on my wrist tightens painfully. “Who the hell is that?”
I glance at his face and watch as recognition dawns. His complexion turns ashen, and he drops my wrist as if burned.
“You know who he is?” I ask quietly. It seems like Casey must recognize Damir from somewhere, or in some context, though Damir shows no sign of knowing him.
Damir says nothing. He simply walks around to the passenger side and opens the door, his gaze never leaving mine. The invitation is clear.
Casey grabs my arm again. “Elena, don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing. That man is dangerous.”
“More dangerous than you?” I pull my arm free. “You destroyed my life, Casey. You took everything from me and disappeared.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, desperation making his voice crack. “Please. Just hear me out. We can start over. Go back to how things were.”
For a fleeting moment, I imagine it. Going back to our apartment and pretending none of this happened. Letting Casey sweet-talk me into forgiveness, into believing his promises of change. It would be so easy to fall back into old patterns.
Then I remember the crushing weight of discovering our account emptied. The humiliation of begging for extensions on my tuition. The nights spent crying, wondering how I could have been so blind. Having to accept a marriage of convenience, and now having a husband who won’t let me go so easily even if I were inclined to try again with Casey.
I’m not. I know exactly what a future with Casey would look like—empty, miserable, and full of excuses and broken promises.
I yank my wrist free and turn toward the car. Toward Damir.
“Elena, wait,” he calls after me, panic in his voice.
I don’t look back. Each step toward Damir feels like shedding a layer of my old life. By the time I reach the car, I’m lighter somehow, feeling unburdened.
Damir’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a gleam of approval in his eyes as I slide into the passenger seat. He closes the door behind me, the solid thunk sealing me inside the luxurious interior.
Through the window, I see Casey standing frozen on the sidewalk, his mouth open in shock. Damir rounds the car and gets in beside me, clicking the door shut with finality. He completely ignores my sniveling ex.
“Perfect timing,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he puts the car in drive. “I saw him approach you from across the street.” His deep voice fills the car’s interior. “I considered intervening sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to see what you would do.” He navigates smoothly into traffic, leaving Casey diminishing in the side mirror. “Whether you would go back to him.”
The leather seat cradles me as I lean back, processing the encounter. “Never.”
“Good girl.”
After a moment, I say, “He seemed to know you.”
“Yes. I didn’t know his name until I figured out he must be the loser who screwed you over, but I’ve seen him gambling at one of my clubs. He also frequents one of the strip clubs.” He sends me an almost apologetic look as he reveals that.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t sting at all. I guess after he cheated me by taking all my money, I’m not surprised to learn he might have cheated on me in other ways. The only real surprise is that Casey was involved in illegal gambling.
I have a hard time imagining him being brave enough to enter such an establishment. He once fainted when a mouse ran across his foot in our apartment. I captured the little guy (or girl) and set it free outside before returning to soothe Casey for hours.
I frown, suddenly remembering he’d been angry with me for not killing the mouse, since it dared invade our home and attack him. When I’d pointed out it was just a mouse doing what a mouse does, he’d been so weak and petulant that it had been off-putting then, but I’d somehow made myself forget and continued on with him. How could I have done that to myself?
Damir drives in silence for several blocks, resting one hand casually on the steering wheel. The interior of the car smells of expensive leather and his subtle cologne. It’s becoming a scent I associate with safety and power.
“Do you still want revenge?” he asks suddenly, his voice casual, as if inquiring about dinner preferences. “Or will you forgive him and forget what he did?”
The question catches me off guard. “Of course, I want revenge.” The words come out aw and honest before I can consider them. “I want him to suffer for what he did. I want him to lose everything the way I almost did.”
His gaze flicks to me briefly before returning to the road. “I could arrange that.”
I shiver slightly at the matter-of-fact way he says it. “I don’t want him dead,” I clarify quickly.
“Dead men learn nothing.” He turns onto a less crowded street. “They feel nothing.”
“Exactly.” I stare out the window at the passing buildings. “I want him to live with the consequences. To understand what it feels like to have everything taken away.”
Damir’s lips curve into a genuine smile, transforming his severe features. “You want him to live with suffering.” He reaches over and takes my hand, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “You’re perfect, solnishko .”
Heat rises to my cheeks at the endearment. I’m not sure if I should be pleased that he approves of my vindictive thoughts. He’s a bratva man, so violence and retribution are his currency. What does it say about me that I’m sitting here discussing revenge so casually?
“What does that mean?” I ask, deflecting from my discomfort. “ Solnishko ?”
“Little sun,” Damir translates, his accent thickening around the Russian word. “Because you bring light.”
The compliment catches me by surprise, and I look down at our joined hands. His is large, with long fingers and manicured nails. Mine seems small in comparison and pale against his tanned skin. “I don’t feel very light right now. Seeing Casey again brought back everything.”
“Anger isn’t darkness,” says Damir, his voice thoughtful. “It’s fire. It can destroy, yes, but it can also forge something stronger.”
The car slows as we approach a red light. He turns to look at me fully. “What would you like me to do about Casey Harris?”
The question hangs between us. I know what Damir is capable of since I’ve pieced together enough about his business to grasp that. With a word from him, Casey could lose everything—his freedom, his future, and even his life.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Part of me wants to hurt him the way he hurt me. Another part just wants to move forward and forget he exists.”
“Both are possible.” Damir’s thumb continues its gentle path across my skin. “You can have your revenge and still move forward. One does not preclude the other.” The light changes, and he returns his attention to driving, though he keeps hold of my hand.
“What would you do?” I ask. “If someone betrayed you like that?”
A dark expression crosses his face. “I would ensure they regretted it for the remainder of their very short life.”
The coldness in his voice sends a shiver through me. “That seems excessive for stealing money.”
“Not for the theft,” Damir clarifies. “For the betrayal. Money can be replaced. Trust, once broken, is much harder to restore.”
His words resonate with something deeper inside me. It wasn’t just the money Casey stole. It was my sense of security, my trust, and my belief in my own judgment. “I want him to pay,” I say finally. “Not with his life, but with everything else. I want him to know what it feels like to have no options and no way out.”
Damir nods, satisfaction evident in the set of his shoulders. “Consider it done.”
“What will you do?” I ask, suddenly nervous.
“Better you don’t know the details.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “But I promise you he will suffer, he will learn, and he’ll live to regret ever hurting you.”
The car turns onto the street leading to his penthouse—our home, at least for now. I should be horrified by this conversation and the casual way we’re discussing destroying someone’s life. Instead, I feel a strange sense of peace. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “For you, solnishko , anything.”