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She left me while I begged her not to, yet here I am, ready to tear down every wall she’s put between us the second she sounds vulnerable.

Because she needs me.

She needs me. And I’m worthy again.

The concrete bites into my palms, the night air sharp in my lungs as I haul myself up towards her first-floor window.

It’s barely a climb. One hand on the drainpipe, one boot on the narrow ledge, enough for me to put my weight on it and then—I’m on her balcony.

I could’ve gone through the front door like a normal stalker—nope, upgraded. I’m her boyfriend—with a key and everything, but another second in the presence of that imbecile woman who happens to share blood with Elara, and I would’ve either shot myself or strangled her.

And something tells me Elara wouldn’t approve of either.

I wrap my fingers around the window handle and give it a twist. It gives way with barely any resistance.

We’ll be having a conversation about why she hasn’t locked her windows. Later.

Right now, I’m just grateful as I slip inside her room.

“You’re a fucking bitch.” She sobs into her pillow. “Fucking die. No one loves you.”

My heart stops, realising she’s talking to herself. My jaw locks so hard it hurts.

“Stop talking about my girl like that.” I growl. My voice cuts through the room like a knife as I set her under my murderous glare. “The woman you’re badmouthing is mine.”

Her eyes widen as she jerks upright. Her hands move on instinct, hastily wiping away her tears before she rushes across the room.

“What are you doing here?” she whispers, shock written all over her face.

I catch her by the forearm and pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her before she gets the chance to protest.

“I needed you.” Just like she needed me, though she would never say it out loud. The answer satisfies her as she visibly burrows her head in my chest.

“Miss me?” I cup her face in my arms, my thumb resting on the wet spot under her eyes and she shakes her head.

“What are you, a pretty dress I couldn’t buy?” She scoffs and pulls away from me. “You need to leave before my sister sees you.”

“Fuck her.”

“She’s my sister, Sergei.” She sets me with a glare and I let out a defeated nod.

Definitely won’t approve if I kill the bitch.

I pull off my boots before dropping onto her bed. Now that I actually look at it, it’s too small. Tiny, really. Yet I slept better than I had in years the last time I was here.

“Why is your bed so small?”

“Because it’s made for one person.” She folds her arms. “Which is why you need to go.”

“I’m not leaving without you.” I grumble.

“Besides, you slept like a baby last time.” She adds with a gleam in her eyes and I suppress a chuckle.

“I was drunk.” On the taste of your pussy. But I don’t say that, instead I mutter, “always telling me to go,” and glance at her. “What if I actually disappear, malyshka?” I mean it as a tease, but she goes still.

And just like that, it stops feeling like a joke.

“Sergei, seriously, your back is going to hurt tomorrow.” True, but ask me how many fucks do I give?