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Even if she didn’t look like my Sasha anymore, I had to engrave the last image of her in my memory.
But it turns out that it was all an act to fool me.
She wanted to leave me so badly that she faked her own death and, consequently, drove a sharp spear into my chest.
The wound is gaping open and bleeding worse than the literal bullet she put in my arm.
Yes, she shot me, but it was less because she wanted to kill me and more because she was scared I’d touch her.
The mere thought of my skin on hers terrified her so much that it triggered her defense mechanism. Her non-dominant leg was literally bent back in case she decided to run.
I wonder if she had the same reaction when she decided to leave me that fake corpse.
More accurately, she probably thought she’d left me for good.
That she can still leave me.
In her fucking dreams.
The only reason I agreed to her absurd three-month condition is because that was the only way to make her come with me.
Do I plan to keep my part of the deal? Fuck no.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
I catch up to her forceful strides but linger a step behind to admire the way her combat clothes stretch over the dip in her waist and her hips.
For the first time—probably ever—she’s wearing women's combat gear instead of the unflattering male ones.
She’s dyed her hair back to blonde. It’s now held in a low ponytail that stops at her shoulders. I knew her hair grew fast, but I didn’t realize it was this fast.
I’ve often tried to imagine her with her natural hair color, but none of the pictures I’ve conjured in my brain have done her justice.
She’s glowing as a blonde.
Also fierce.
Angry as fuck, too.
And that makes my dick twitch with the need to fuck that anger out of both of us.
Yes, I could’ve chosen not to make things worse and not taken Yuri—sorry, I mean Anton—but there was virtually no other method to force her to stay.
She might not have killed me, but she would’ve tortured me by another highly effective method—disappearing on me.
Forbidding me from seeing her ever again.
She would’ve vanished to where I couldn’t find her and punished both of us for the rest of our lives.
And we can’t have that, now, can we?
I take a step in front of her and lead her to where I parked the car. Sasha doesn’t look at me, keeping her entire focus on the faraway horizon or the trees that are indistinguishable in the dark.
She’s either escaping in her mind or giving me the silent treatment or both.
Not that I mind. I didn’t expect her to come around this fast, but as long as she’s here, I can come up with multiple methods to win her back.
When we arrive at the car, I open the driver’s door with my good hand. However, my wound pulses with pain that travels all the way to my chest. I groan deep in my throat and close my eyes for a brief second to control the discomfort.
The bleeding isn’t as severe as earlier, but there’s still hemorrhaging, and I might have lost more blood than my body can afford to.
I’m still not interested in treating it until I get Sasha back home. What if she runs off on me again?
In the mansion, I have enough power to stop her from leaving.
She steps between me and the driver's door. Her face is still closed off, lips pursed, and brows pulled together in an adorable frown. “I’ll drive.”
I smile. “Worried about me?”
“More like I don’t want to get into an accident if you drop dead against the steering wheel.”
“You wound me in my little black heart, Solnyshko.”
She grinds her teeth and glares up at me with her ethereal eyes. They look brown now, dark, and infested with an unhealthy dose of hate.
Her face is soft and delicate but a bit pale. She’s lost weight and some of her natural glow. Dark circles line the contours of her tired eyes.
I hope she’s suffered as badly as I have.
I hope she couldn’t fucking sleep at night, and I infiltrated her nightmares as brutally as she invaded mine.
She sinks her fingers into my wound and then digs them inside with the intention of inflicting pain. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
I groan as my arm catches fire and pulses. Yes, it hurts, but I don’t give a fuck. “It feels good when you touch me.”
Sasha releases me with a jerk, her hand all messed up with my blood. If we add my cum to the equation, it will look like a masterpiece.
But that’s a thought for another occasion.
“You must really have some screws loose.” She clicks her tongue. “How come you’re not threatening me back with bodily harm?”
