Chapter 16 #2
He looked down at my hands holding his and yanked his mouth into a strained, ugly almost-smile.
"Sorry," he rasped, like the word scraped his throat on the way out. "I just... thought of something I didn't want to."
I didn't push.
I knew he wouldn't let anyone see him bleed. Everyone had scars they didn't want touched. I didn't have to rip his open right now.
"It's okay." I tightened my grip, steady. "Let's get back to the car."
Viktor didn't answer. He flipped his hand and locked mine in his palm, squeezing hard enough it nearly hurt, like he needed proof I was real. We walked in silence to the car.
That night, Manhattan showed off its glittering, dirty-rich face again.
After what happened that afternoon, dinner turned flirty again, but Viktor kept something caged behind his eyes.
When we finished eating, he insisted on taking me back to my old Brooklyn apartment to grab the last of my stuff.
Tomorrow, I would move in for good—into that luxury place on the Upper East Side.
The car settled smoothly at the curb in front of my beat-up building.
"I'll grab a couple boxes and come right down. Twenty minutes, tops." I refused his help, unbuckled, and looked over at him.
He killed the engine, one hand resting on the wheel, gaze heavy on me. "I'll wait downstairs. If you need anything, you call me." He pulled out a silver lighter, flicked it—click—and lit a cigarette. The flame carved his sharp features out of the dark.
"Got it, boss," I said, half teasing.
I got out and walked into the building that felt both familiar and wrong.
The motion sensor light in the hallway was still half-broken, blinking on and off.
I climbed to the third floor in the dark, dug out the old key I hadn't even returned yet, and slid it into the door Viktor had kicked in—now patched up by management like they didn't give a damn.
Inside was empty. Most of my things had already been packed and hauled away. Only a few cardboard boxes remained. I turned on my phone flashlight, crouched, and dug through one box looking for my scarf.
I found it and started to stand.
A voice came from behind me.
"I knew you'd come back."
My blood turned to ice.
I spun, the flashlight beam shaking wildly, and it caught the tall figure in the doorway—the one I'd been trying to erase from my life even in my sleep.
Matthew.
He stood there blocking the only exit. He looked worse than he had in the company lobby—more wrecked, more unhinged. His eyes were bloodshot like he hadn't slept in days.
"Why are you here?" My voice shook. I backed up without thinking until my lower back hit the cold windowsill.
"I've been waiting." He stepped closer, and his calm made my skin crawl. "I knew you'd come back for your stuff eventually. You've always been like that. Sentimental. Couldn't throw away junk."
"Don't come closer!" I screamed, gripping the scarf like it could save me.
"Hailey, I came to 'talk' today." He sneered and moved in again. "I saw you. Today. With that man. That bastard who pinned me to the floor. Holding hands, strolling through an aquarium like you were some happy couple."
He'd followed me.
That crawling feeling these past few days—that sense of being watched—had been him. Always him.
"So those cars, those bodyguards... they're his?" Matthew's face twisted with jealousy. "You've been fucking him already, haven't you? You shameless. You slept with some mob guy right in my face!"
"He's not—" I started, then choked. Because what the hell could I say? I didn't even know how to defend Viktor without confirming everything.
"He's not what?" Matthew grinned like a rabid dog. He lunged, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me toward him. "You're coming with me today. I'll remind you who actually treated you right!"
"Let go!" I fought, twisting, trying to pry his hand off. He clamped down harder, nails biting into my skin.
"Stop fighting. You're coming with me!" he shouted, his other hand slapping over my mouth.
Terror slammed into me.
I bucked and thrashed, muffled sounds scraping out of my throat, but this building had paper-thin walls—Viktor downstairs couldn't hear a thing.
Matthew dragged me toward the door.
And then the door, left half-shut, flew open from the outside with no warning.
A tall black shape filled the frame.
The next second, Matthew got launched like a rag doll. A brutal force smashed him out onto the sidewalk. He slammed into the brick wall beside the entrance and slid down in a heap, clutching his face and rolling in pain.
Viktor stood in front of me.
He looked like something that walked out of hell—violent, merciless, murder plain in the air around him.
"Y-you..." Matthew lifted his head, jaw crooked, mouth full of blood. When he recognized the man standing backlit in the doorway, fury turned into pure terror. He scrabbled backward like he'd seen a ghost, teeth chattering, words slurring. "Devil... you fucking devil..."
Viktor didn't waste a single word.
He strode forward, grabbed Matthew by the collar, and hauled him up like he weighed nothing. Then Viktor's right fist tightened, veins bulging, and with raw, obliterating rage, he drove it straight into Matthew's face again.
The sound of his nose breaking hit my teeth.
Matthew couldn't even scream. Viktor let him go like trash. Matthew crashed to the ground, then crawled and stumbled away, not daring to look back as he sprinted down the street, leaving a sick trail of blood behind him.
The street fell into dead silence.
Only Viktor's harsh breathing cut through the night air.
He stood there, huge and shaking like a volcano about to blow. His back was to me. His hands were fists again at his sides, trembling.
I stood in the doorway, staring at his broad back.
Relief—survival—hit me, and then something hotter, sharper, swallowed everything else.
I didn't have time to think.
All I knew was this: when I was helpless and terrified, he'd torn through the dark and put himself between me and it without hesitation.
My legs shook as I stepped closer. I reached out and touched the back of his hand.
His knuckles were split open, skin torn wide. Bright blood slid between his fingers and dripped onto the filthy concrete. He'd done that to protect me. To Matthew's face.
Viktor stiffened, snapping his head around. Those blue eyes still burned with violence, locked on me like if I showed even a flicker of fear, he might tear the world apart.
I didn't flinch.
I met the gaze of the beast on the edge of losing it. My voice trembled, but it stayed solid.
"Viktor." I took his blood-slick hand in mine, then nodded toward my busted, lit-up apartment upstairs, eyes wet as I looked at him. "Come up with me. I'll take care of your hand."