Chapter 24 #2
She was everywhere—on top of me, beneath me, on her knees. Her mouth was full, her eyes wild, her fingers digging in like she’d die if I stopped. She sobbed when I told her to keep quiet, and I fucked her harder just to hear her disobey.
The house remained silent, but her moans didn’t. I muffled them with kisses, with my palm, with her own lace panties shoved between her lips. I lost count of how many times I took her. I lost count of everything except her.
By the time the sky shifted and the dark began to bleed into gray, our bodies were spent and tangled in the sheets, the chaos of the night still clinging to the air like smoke.
Morning arrived pale and quiet. She stirred against me, one leg thrown over mine, her cheek pressed to my chest. We hadn’t bothered pulling the covers up. The air kissed her bare skin, and I let my hand drift slowly down her side.
She smiled as her eyes fluttered open. I brushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her forehead.
“I’m not sure I can walk today,” she whispered, teasing.
I smirked, my laugh low and rough. “That supposed to be a complaint?”
She giggled and hid her face against my skin. “Maybe I’ll stay in bed forever.”
I pulled her closer. “That sounds like a fucking dream.”
Her fingers started tracing the ink on my chest, slow and curious. “Tell me about these,” she murmured.
I looked down. “Which one?”
She let her fingers trail along my side, pausing over the serpent etched in ink. “This one?”
Her touch hovered above the spot where the snake devoured its own tail—right over the faded, jagged scar that never healed smooth.
I held still, letting her feel it. “Someone tried to end me once. Slipped a blade in deep enough to leave something permanent.”
She glanced up at me, her brow pinched with something like pain. “And you turned it into this?”
I nodded once. “Figured if I had to carry it, it might as well be mine.”
She didn’t say anything for a beat. Then: “It’s beautiful. And fucked up.”
I smirked. “So’s life.”
Then her finger moved to my arm, hovering over a jagged, faded shape. “That?”
“First tattoo I ever had. I was fifteen. Gang symbol from the old neighborhood. Done with a sewing needle and ash mixed with vodka. Dumb as fuck, but it meant something back then—brotherhood, survival.”
She traced a few more, and I gave her names, meanings. Some were earned. Some forced. Some I didn’t remember getting.
Then her touch stilled. She pointed to the script above my heart.
М?ла (Mila).
“You should scratch it out,” she said lightly. “Put my name there instead.”
I didn’t flinch. But I didn’t smile either. As much as she already lived inside me, under my skin, wrapped around every fucked-up beat of my heart—I’d never do that.
“Not happening,” I said.
She frowned, straddling me with a sudden burst of defiance. Her hand came up, pressing to my throat—not hard, but firm enough to make a point. Her palm was small, her glare fierce, and honestly, it was kind of cute how mad she got. “Why not? You’re mine.”
I exhaled slowly. “Because that’s my sister’s name.”
She blinked, releasing her hand from my throat, confusion flashing across her face. Her lips parted, like she was about to speak but wasn’t sure what to say.
“I thought—” she began, her voice faltering. “I thought it was… like… some girl. An ex or something. I was jealous.”
I shook my head. “Nothing to be jealous about.”
She lifted herself off me, sat beside me, and reached for my hand. Her fingers wrapped around mine, warm and steady, and she brought it to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.
“Where is she?” she whispered.
“I don’t know… She went missing when she was three,” I said, the words scraping out of me.
Kira hesitated for a moment before speaking. “What happened?” she asked quietly. “Only if you’re okay talking about it. I don’t want to push.”
I stayed quiet for a beat. I’d never told a soul the real story. I’d locked it away so long it felt like it happened to somebody else. But now it was rising again, sharp and insistent. And for once I didn’t want to shove it back down. I wanted her to know.
“I was nine. It was my job to watch her. We were just outside. I turned for a second, and when I looked back… she was gone. Just like that.”
I dragged a hand over my face, staring somewhere past Kira as the memory settled back into place.
“I didn’t even plan to take her outside that day. We were on the couch, half-watching cartoons, half-dozing, when my friends called out from the courtyard to come play ball.” I gave a sharp, bitter exhale. “I should’ve stayed. But she turned to me with those huge eyes and asked so sweetly.”
I glanced away, blinking hard, jaw tightening. “She couldn’t even say my name right—used to call me ‘Masim.’” I paused, then mimicked her small voice, rough around the edges with memory. “’Masim, Masim, please, I want to go out to play too.’”
My voice cracked. “She was so little.” I swallowed. “I couldn’t tell her no.”
Kira said nothing. She just held my hand tighter.
“I never saw her again. I think she... is dead.”
The words lodged in my chest like shrapnel.
Nobody had ever looked at me the way she did now. Nobody had ever listened like this. And yet here she was—silent, steady, her eyes wide and full of something that wasn’t pity. Something deeper.
Understanding. Maybe even love.
Kira touched my chest, fingers splayed like she could feel the weight beneath. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. You were a child.”
My laugh was hollow. “Try telling that to my old man.”
“Where is he now?”
I let out a slow breath, my jaw tightening. “Hopefully rotting,” I said, the words sharp, and full of a hate that hadn’t dulled with time.
She swallowed. “Did he hurt you?”
“Yeah,” I said, bitterness thick in my throat. “Every damn day. Right up until the state came and took me—just to dump me somewhere even worse.”
She hesitated, then asked gently, “And your mom? Where was she in all of this?”
“She died not long after Mila’s disappearance,” I said, my voice rough as my eyes stung. “It broke her.”
That was the truth. And it was more than I’d told anyone before. Just saying it out loud to Kira felt dangerous—but relieving. Like giving away a piece of a secret I’d carried too long.
Still, I kept the biggest truth locked away. That her father had taken Mila. That her bloodline was tied to everything that wrecked mine. She had too much fire in her, too much heart. And if I lost control of her now, I could lose everything.
She went quiet, watching me for a long second, her jaw tight like she was choosing her words carefully.
“I know it hurts,” she said, her voice low but steady.
“I know you carry more than anyone ever should.” She wrapped both of her hands around mine, holding it firmly between them.
“Life is brutal. But it didn’t just destroy you—it forged you.
You don’t see it, but you’re incredible.
” She lifted her chin, her eyes locked on mine.
“And I know this sounds wrong, but if all that pain led you here… to me… then I can’t hate it. ”
And then she kissed me like she already knew every broken part of me and wanted them all anyway.
Her lips were soft but certain, trembling but brave.
I cupped her face and kissed her back like it was a promise—one I didn’t know how to make, but somehow already had.
Her fingers wound into my hair and pulled me down like gravity.
I poured everything I couldn’t say into that kiss—every ruined memory, every scar, every cracked piece of me she hadn’t run from.
Her tears finally spilled. I tasted salt between us, felt the way her breath hitched, her body shaking just enough for me to feel it.
When the kiss broke, her voice cracked. “I’m sorry I ever said anything about her. I thought she was someone you loved, and I hated the idea of her. I’m sorry. Truly. You know how I am. My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes.”
I huffed a quiet laugh and brushed my thumb along her jaw. “That reckless mouth,” I said, grinning. “Starts fights. Gets you in trouble. Makes me want to ruin you every time you open it.”
I kissed her again—this time softer, slower, more playful. Her lips curled into a smile against mine, and I tasted the way she melted for me all over again.