The moment the water hits my body, I sink down onto the bottom of the shower, letting it pour over me. All my energy wanes, and I’m humiliated beyond belief and so very angry that my body has betrayed me.
A low, rumbling growl reaches me, and I open my eyes, noticing the door open and both Santiago and Kade looking desperate to come in, but Roshka and Nalla are not moving an inch.
Any other time, I’d shove the dogs out of the way and welcome Santiago and Kade in here, but I can barely move a muscle. The only thing I can do is close my eyes and sink into the inferno taking root.
Chapter Thirty-Two
ALEKSEI
Pain tunnels my vision down to nearly nothing, and my skin itches like I’ve been out in the sun all day. I want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Next to Quinn, of course.
Her presence and scent, so real and tangible, has accompanied me on every fucking errand Sergey has dropped into my lap tonight. He sounded like a broken record, deferring to me being his appointed second as his excuse for not attending any of the meetings with our suppliers and providers he had organized.
Admittedly, the thought of being around my brother, given my mood and the circumstances, is probably not wise. I can’t get past what he did to his wife; in my mind, it’s worse than what he made me do.
I’ve had years to get used to his malevolence, to know how to play his games, and while I’m aware Quinn grew up in a similar world, I doubt she’s met anyone with such skewed morals. Well, I hope she hasn’t, because that would break my heart.
A large proportion of Mafia dons, Cartel leaders, and Bratvas tend to be egotistical tyrants—it goes with trying to manage people who are committed to a life of crime—but Sergey’s pomposity is in a class of its own. He doesn’t understand loyalty, viewing it as a weakness, and the only person he respects is himself.
His success and role as Bratva aren’t his own doing; it was handed to him on a silver platter. Perhaps if Sergey had worked from the ground up like almost every other person in such a pivotal role, he would be a better person, although in truth, he’s been a self-obsessed, deceitful prick for as long as I can remember.
Using the secure side entrance, I pull the garage door behind me, activating the alarm because no one else will be using this entrance tonight. If Sergey comes home, his driver will deliver him and his entourage to the front doors, although I don’t expect to see Sergey until late tomorrow. He’ll stay at the club with his posse or waste money on a penthouse somewhere.
The inside of my family home is nearly returned to how it was. There are no obvious signs of a wedding and reception having occurred only a few hours ago. The staff are too terrified of Sergey not to have worked their asses off getting everything back to how it was. All that remains is a team of cleaners.
I stop for an update from the head of the kitchen and the house, both looking as exhausted as I feel. Nothing stands out. I ask about Mrs. Petrov, and they report she’s been locked in her suite for the past few hours.
It’s hard thinking of Quinn as Mrs. Petrov, but what I call her is going to be the least of our issues. My bite on her hand trumps everything fucking imaginable.
How she hid my claim from me and everyone else defies logic. And only confirms her character. A vast number of peoplewould have exploited my bite, twisted it into something like blackmail, to serve them.
Not Quinn.
Since I consummated our bond, my memories of how I bit her have been crystalizing. There’s been so much static in our bond as it settles into place, and the distance forced upon us has made it worse, but at the same time, I can literally feel her inside me somehow.
With clarity, there’s been relief and acceptance. I can see now, there were no fever dreams involved, just a shitload of painkillers and medication messing with my memory, because she was so clear, but that didn’t make sense. The constant all-body ache I’ve attributed to my recovery after nearly dying in America was my pining for her.
Perhaps since what we now share is so new, and I’ve been overthinking everything, I misread her unease as my own, but now that I’m home, I know something is wrong. I stop mid word and tear up the stairs, gun drawn and ready.
I want to shoulder-barge the door off the hinges, but I’m cognizant enough to know I need to have the advantage of sneaking in. Flicking off the sound alert from the door, I wait an eternity before the small click confirms the door unlocks.
Only opening the door enough to let myself in, I shut it behind me. And even though there’s barely any noises floating back, I know instantly what is going on. The whole suite is saturated in her alluring vanilla scent. I suck in lungfuls of it, and every cell in my body responds. My Omega is in heat.
The urgency changes, and I race through the suite, following my nose. The inside of her bedroom is where the intensity of her vanilla perfume is coming from. Her two guards shouldn’t be in her bedroom, but they are. I suspect if Nalla and Roshka weren’t in full protection mode, they’d be inside the shower with her.
“What the fuck happened? How long has she been in there?”
“Too long. One minute, she was okay, looking tired, and then she was racing up here. It’s like she can’t see or hear us.” Kade’s anxiety is obvious, but he maintains his calm as he speaks to me without taking his eyes off her.
“Could anyone have drugged her?”
Santiago shakes his head. “She didn’t move for hours. No one brought her a drink or anything to eat.”
“Why?”
“He barked at her.”
“Sergey Alpha-barked her?” I ask, not really needing the clarification or confirmation. I wish I could say I was shocked he’d stoop to something so low in front of all the invited guests. But I am not. Pain pierces my chest at the way she had to suffer through another of his humiliations.
