Chairs scrape against concrete as everyone rises. Church is adjourned. The hunt’s official now. Time to make Sergei Volkov regret ever stepping foot in our territory.
EIGHTEEN
SAVANNAH
I’m sittingin the office at work, going over invoices. I love this job. I’m actually good at it. The paperwork sits in neat stacks on the desk, my coffee’s still hot, and through the window behind me I can see the crew framing the new addition. Hammers banging, saws screaming, and the guys roasting each other over the radio. Everything feels normal. Safe.
Then the bell over the front door jingles. I don’t look up right away. It’s probably just one of the crew guys needing a signature or grabbing a Coke from the fridge. My fingers keep moving over the keys.
A shadow falls across the invoice I’m looking over, so I glance up, and everything inside me freezes.
Brian, my ex-husband, stands in the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of a new flannel, his hair cropped shorter but still carrying that dark curl I used to twist around my finger. He’s smirking, just a small lift at the corner of his mouth, like he caught me doing something cute.
My stomach drops through the floor. He shouldn’t be here. No one told me he was back in town.
“Hey, Sav.” His voice is lazy and familiar, like we never stopped being anything. “You look good. Better than good, actually. New haircut?”
I don’t answer. My hand freezes on the mouse. The cursor blinks on the screen while my pulse slams in my ears. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He steps inside without asking, boots scuffing the floor. “I was in the area. Figured I’d swing by. See how you’re holding up.” He shrugs, like this is no big deal. “It’s been a while. Thought maybe you’d want to catch up.”
“Catch up?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. “We don’t catch up, Brian. We don’t do anything. You need to leave. Right now.”
He doesn’t budge. He leans one shoulder against the doorframe and lets his eyes slide over me slowly. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m not here to start shit. I just wanted to see you. Make sure you’re still breathing without me.”
The words land like a slap. I flash to his forearm crushing my throat, my wrist twisted purple, him snarling that I was nothing without him. The night he used a knife on me. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say anything to me. Get the fuck out!” My voice trembles.
He tilts his head, smirk widening a fraction. “Still got that fire, huh? I always liked that about you. Kept things interesting.”
“Interesting?” I laugh, but it sounds brittle. “You think breaking my wrist was interesting? Choking me until I blacked out wasinteresting? Fuck you. I told you if you ever came near me again I’d press charges. Did you think I was bluffing?”
He raises both hands, palms out, but the smirk doesn’t drop. “Whoa, easy. I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve done the work. Therapy, anger management, the whole deal. I’m trying to make it right.”
“Make it right?” I scoot the chair back an inch. The desk is the only thing between us. “You don’t get to make it right. You don’t get to show up here like we’re old friends. Leave now.”
He takes one step closer. “You really gonna act like none of it meant anything? We had good times, Sav. You can’t pretend we didn’t.”
“Good times?” My voice cracks on the words. “You mean the nights I slept with one eye open because I didn’t know if you’d wake up and attack? Those good times?”
He exhales through his nose, almost amused. “You always did love to rewrite history. I fucked up, I get it. But I’m owning it now. I came here to say that. Face to face. Most guys wouldn’t even bother.”
“Then most guys are smarter than you.” My fingers slip under the desk and brush the drawer where Dad keeps the old .38 he thinks I don’t know about. “I don’t want your apology. I don’t want your therapy story. I want you gone and I never want to see you again.”
He studies me for a second, eyes narrowing just enough to make my skin crawl. Then the smirk twists into something uglier. “Heard you’re fucking that dirty biker now. Didn’t realize you’d fall that far. Better watch out before he gives you something youcan’t wash off. God, the last thing you’d want is to get pregnant by some lowlife like that. Make sure you’re being careful, Sav.”
My blood turns to ice. “You don’t know anything about my life.”
“Oh, I did a little research.” He leans in a fraction, voice dropping like he’s sharing a secret. “Did you know he murdered someone? Went to jail and everything. Real stand-up guy. Is that the kind of person your mom and dad wanted you to end up with? You think he’s better than me?”
“Shut up.” The words come out low and shaking. My grip tightens on the drawer pull.
He chuckles, soft and mean. “Fuck, baby, I’ve turned my life around. I’m clean. I’m ready for you to come back to me. For us to start again. I’m ready to start a family. The real kind. Not whatever trash you’re playing house with now.”
“Get out.” My voice cracks on the last word. “Get the fuck out before I scream for the crew.”
He turns halfway, pauses in the doorway, and glances back over his shoulder. “You say that now. But we both know how this goes. You get lonely because no one but me is ever going to love you like you deserve to be loved. I’ll be there when you’re ready.”
My heart pounds so loud it drowns out everything else, thumping in my ears like it’s trying to break free. Sweat prickles across my forehead, my upper lip, the back of my neck. Goosebumps race down my arms even though the office isn’t cold. My whole body trembles, small shaky jerks I can’t stop.
