“There she is,” he crooned, the sound sickening. “The weak little doll your father promised. The one who folds. The one who breaks.”
He took a stumbling step toward me. I stayed frozen. Let him think I was prey. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, low and smug. “I’ll make it quick. Then I’ll go take care of the Cristofs and start with your sister?—”
My sob cut off. The world went silent as rage filled my blood. I narrowed my eyes at him and ran the short distance between us. I wrapped my hands around the knife and yanked it free before I somehow managed to drive it into his neck. But I didn’t get away with it Scott free. His hand shot out, and wrapped around my neck. For a man that was bleeding out, he had a lot more strength than I thought possible. I went to swing the knife again, but he he lifted me off of the ground, and spots began to dance in my vision.
How poetic. We would both die together.
He should’ve been dead already.
Heshould’vecollapsed.
But Donovan Madden was a monster who refused to die quickly.
“You—” he gurgled, eyes bulging, fury twisting what was left of his face. “—should have stayed… obedient…”
My lungs burned. Fire clawed down my throat. The knife trembled in my weakening grip. I swung again—wild and desperate—but he jerked me sideways mid-air. The blade only grazed his shoulder, barely leaving a scratch in its wake. I let the knife slip from my fingers—on purpose—let it clatter against the floor. His eyes flicked down for the smallest fraction of a second.
I used what little strength I had left and slammed both thumbs into the pulsing wound in his neck. An animalistic roar ripped free from his throat. His grip faltered as he instinctively reached for the gash, and I dropped like a ragdoll onto the floor, coughing hard as precious air tore painfully back into my lungs.
Blood soaked the rug. Donovan staggered, clutching his neck, trying to hold himself together as more poured through his fingers.\
“You—” he rasped. “You little?—”
He didn’t finish. His knees buckled. He crashed face-first onto the bedroom floor, and he didn’t move again.
I don’t know how long I stayed like that, staring at his body, waiting for him to move, but it felt like an eternity later when I heard footsteps down the hall. I clutched my bloody knees to my chest and moved my stare to the door.This was it, I was going to jail. There was no getting out of this one.
“Poppy?” Except the voice didn’t belong to a man or a police officer. It belonged to Nana as the door burst open. “When you didn’t call us, we figured the worst.”
She stopped when she noticed the blood covering the room and me. But the pause wasn’t long at all. She flew across the space, much faster than any granny I’d ever known, and crouched down in front of me. “Are you hurt?”
How did I say no but also yes? My throat hurt, but I was alive. He hadn’t stabbed me. He was dead, and I was alive.
He was dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
My head snapped up, and I looked at her as tears filled my eyes and panic released from my chest. I was alive.
“I won.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Ivan
One monthof being back in my cabin, and I was starting to feel normal again. My hands were healed, thanks to a lot of CBD lotion and physical therapy. They ached with the cold and hard labor, but they were finally getting back to the place they were before. I knew I still had a long road of recovery ahead, but it gave me confidence and hope that I would be back to my old self sooner than later.
I hadn’t heard from Poppy, and I didn’t check the tabloids. I knew there was nothing for me there. Dimitri called to check in on me, and I FaceTimed with my baby niece, but no one said a word about the woman who stole my heart. I knew they judged me for leaving, but now that I was healing, I knew it was the best thing I could have done for myself. But it was also a lie. Leaving New York was not the best thing I could have done for myself. But the seclusion was. I could have done all of this, but in the city. I toldmyself that this place was necessary, but I knew better. I was just in denial.
I stacked another piece of wood and reached for the next, when a sharp, unfamiliar crack sounded behind me. A twig snapping under someone’s weight.
My entire body went still. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t thought of anyone coming up here or sneaking up on me. I wrapped my hands around the axe I was wielding and spun around.
“Easy there, Paul Bunyan.” That voice didn’t belong on my mountain. Didn’t belong anywhere near me. It belonged back in New York City with my brother.
