“You knew, didn’t you?” I nod and start to pace, not giving a shit that he might shoot me because of it. “You fucking knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
When he doesn’t do anything except stare at me, something else inside me cracks right down the middle.
“You fucking knew!” I scream as I raise my gun, pointing it at his beautiful face as my tears start to fall. “For months, right? You’ve known for months that I had a death sentence hanging above me and I bet you were the lucky one tasked with carrying it out the whole time, right? Right, Dimitri!”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make one fucking move, but the way his good eye twitches is enough for me to know I’m right.
I start laughing through my tears, using my gun to emphasize every goddamn word that comes out of my mouth. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it? An adorable little getaway, a vacation for just the two of us, far away from everyone and everything so you couldbond with me during my heat and mate me proper.” I choke on the exact thing he said to me when he posed the idea, barely stifling a sob as I throw it back in his face. “You got me out here so your father’s goons, men webothgrew up with, could follow you out to my cottage and hit me when I was at my most vulnerable. When I was the happiest I’ve ever fucking been.” My hand starts to tremble as I move closer, pointing my Glock right between his eyes. “I was a dead man before I even left Woodstock, wasn’t I, D? A dead man, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get your rocks off one more time, right? Warm yourdick with your scent match as a final send-off?” I smile despite my devastation. “You can’t say you were completely horrible as a mate. You did give your omega a little glimpse at the way life could have been, for a few days, anyway. But who am I kidding, that was probably just the scent match bullshit driving those actions. Can’t deny fate no matter how hard we try, and your instincts still wanted to love me even if your heart wasn’t in it anymore.”
God, he is so fucking cold. Standing there like a goddamn statue while I flay my chest wide open in front of him.
“It makes me wonder, though. What are you getting out of the deal? Must be a pretty penny since you know what it’ll do to my mother and Tati when the only thing that’ll be left of me is my right middle finger. Kinda hard to gift wrap that for your family, so it better be worth it.” I clench my jaw as I cry a never-ending stream, every moment we’ve shared playing through my mind like a horror film while the snow and cold sink deep into my bones. “Would you just fucking say something? Confirm or deny, lie to me. Any goddamn thing so I know there might still be a shred of humanity left inside that empty cavity where your heart used to be? Fucking say something, Dimitri!”
But he doesn’t.
My mate just stands there, unflinching, unmoving. Uncaring. He gives zero shits right now and the only indication he ever did is how long it’s taking him to pull his fucking trigger.
But I’m done waiting.
I move forward quickly, grabbing his wrist as I bring the muzzle of his gun to my forehead, pressing it dead center hard enough to bruise. “What are you waiting for, huh? An invitation? Forgiveness? A fucking thank you?” I lift my gun to my right temple, tempting fate, welcoming death because of what this man is putting me through, seemingly without giving one single fuck. “Shoot me, Dimitri. Go on. Shoot me. Carry out your hit,make your money. I’ll even help you.” I cock my gun and cover the trigger. “Shoot me. Come on, Dimitri. You don’t hesitate, remember? Act first, explain later? Do it. Shoot me. Fucking shoot me, you bastard, put me out of my misery. Shoot me!”
Again, Dimitri doesn’t.
Whatever it is that we share, the stupid connection between scent matches, that mate bond even though it’s new, it won’t let him do what he was ordered to do.
Which is why I keep pushing.
If he doesn’t love me, if he never did, he has to fucking prove it.
Faster than he can register, I move slightly out of his line of fire, drop my gun from my temple only to point it at his thigh and fire off two rounds into his fucking leg.
On reflex, Dimitri fires back, hitting me once in the shoulder before a second bullet grazes the side of my face and a third does a clean line straight through the far left front of my left pec and out the back as he falls.
I stagger back a few paces, the impact far greater than the physical pain since I’m soaked to the bone, but as I reposition my gun at him, aiming once again, I realize I can’t kill him, either.
Using my free hand, I wipe the mixture of tears and blood from my cheek on the back of my sleeve, ignoring the way my shoulder burns, and almost laugh when I remember this is his hoodie. A little poetic irony there, maybe.
“It might not be the way you wanted it to go, but I can promise you, you’ve gotten rid of me, Dimitri Volkov.” I sway a little on my feet before I start backing away again. “I’m dead to you, dead and buried, and I can only hope my ghost will haunt your ass for the rest of your days, you son of a bitch.”
Then I’m running.
Crying, running, bleeding all over myself.
None of that matters because I need to get the hell away from him while I can because now that I shot him, Dimitri won’t hesitate to shoot until he kills me, bonds be damned. He’s too hotheaded and unstable to let anyone, even me, get away with something like that.
Clearly I’m not the exception anymore, and after today, I’m not really sure I ever was.
Staring out the window,I clutch my chest as I watch the scenery whip by, blurring periodically as the bus moves relatively quickly over the mildly icy roads.
More snow-covered roads hiding black ice. More gray skies and empty, wicked looking trees looming over the horizon.
We should be getting into the city soon. I hope so, anyway. It’s not like I have a phone to check the time or see how long we’ve been driving. All I know is that it’s been almost three days since I left my cottage and I haven’t worried about much else.
When I finally made it to Albany, I was beyond exhausted and in a state of shock, but I managed to get to the nearest bathroom and clean myself up. I dug the bullet from my shoulder, then I used the hand dryers to thaw out before I passed out on the floor of the unisex toilet. I didn’t have a lot to go on when I woke up but I’m guessing I was out for a few hours, long enough to start feeling all the places my mate shot me, right along with every part of my body I had to check for frostbite.
Thankfully, the bullet wounds were the worst of my issues.
That, and the fact that it’s been over a week since I’ve really eaten anything.
