“Get your hands off my wife,” I hiss, and without waiting to see if he’ll oblige, I lock him in a chokehold, digging the point of my knife into the tender flesh protecting his kidney.
He releases her in an instant, and the second Anika is free, I jerk him backward, slamming him down onto the ground with such force that he rolls to the side and vomits.
I could kill him with my bare hands, I’m so full of rage.
But I only have one concern right now, so I leave the sick bastard for Gio to finish off, exchanging a silent nod with my brother before turning back to Anika.
The sounds of Gio’s boot connecting with soft flesh and the grunts of pain that follow are music to my ears. But that fades quickly into the background when I finally get a look at my wife.
Her filthy clothes and matted hair would suggest she’s been sleeping in a homeless shelter—or worse, on the streets themselves.
Guilt and horror lance through me as I think about what she’s been through in her effort to escape me.
But what cuts deepest is her reaction when she sees it’s me.
Her blue eyes are wide and round, her lips slightly parted in shock as every muscle in her body tenses.
Quivering, she stands frozen in place—looking terrified by the mere sight of me.
36
ANIKA
“Anika,” Miko breathes. The sweet sound of his voice caressing my name sends a violent shiver down my body.
I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he found me. After three days of hell on earth, I honestly had started to think he decided not to come looking for me at all.
But then, I’ve been very careful—jumping at every shadow, coming out from my hiding place only when the hunger pains are so bad, I’m worried it could harm my child.
I’ve spent so many hours dreading this moment, agonizing over how I’ll possibly run far enough to get away without a single penny to my name.
I never dreamed there could be something worse than surviving on the streets, scared, hungry, and homeless. Until some sick bastard grabbed me from behind to drag me into this alleyway.
And now, with my throat aching and my ears still ringing from oxygen deprivation, I’m about to face the full force of Miko’s wrath.
Only… he doesn’t look angry at all.
He looks… devastated.
That I’m not prepared for.
“Are you alright?” he asks, taking a slow, careful step forward—like one might after cornering a frightened rabbit.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, wrapping my arms protectively around my waist.
Shrugging out of the leather jacket that was hiding his intricate arm tattoos, Miko hooks it on a finger and offers it out to me without a word. With trembling fingers, I accept the gift, biting back a moan of appreciation at the buttery softness of the leather in my hands.
I almost feel bad putting it on when I know how dirty I am. That’s what happens when you go swimming through a dirty lake and are forced to wear the same outfit for days on end because you had your change of clothes stolen.
But the warmth that envelops me as soon as my arms slide into the sleeves is almost enough to make me cry with relief.
And the rich, masculine pine-and-motor-oil scent that clings to all of Miko’s close makes my chest ache with longing.
“Are you going to take me home?” I whisper, uncertain of whether I’m wishing the answer is yes or dreading that it is.
Unexpected pain comes crushing down on me with astonishing force when Miko shakes his head.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” he rasps, unspeakable torment in his eyes. “I’m done trying to make you stay.”
