Page 5 of Savage Pakhan

I’ll never see the light of day again.

I honk my horn, knowing it won’t make the cars move any quicker. The sirens up ahead are a blur, the red and blue lights muddled by the rain. Thunder rolls above and my body erupts in goosebumps. I hate storms. I hate lightning. Every time it storms, all I want to do is hide under the covers and wait for it to go away.

Two hours pass of inching forward before I’m finally free. I speed home the best I can, remaining careful around the curves.

When I pull into the driveway, I put the car in park, and stare out onto the ocean, wishing every wave could swallow me whole. The sea is raging from the storm. The waves crash in vicious rhythms, white seafoam clinging to the shore.

I get out of the luxury car, hold my purse to my chest, and run towards the porch. Rain soaks me. My hair is drenched, sticking to my face, and water fills my shoes.

I don’t have a key to the front door. I always have to knock to be welcomed inside. I do. I knock, then cup my hands around my eyes to peer into the window. Ivan is there with his arms crossed, standing unmoving, glaring at me. Even from here, the muscle in his jaw ticks with annoyance.

“Did you get my messages?” I shout over the rain slamming against the roof. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t me. I tried to get here on time.”

He steps forward, bending down until his face is eye level with mine. “Maybe you should have tried harder. You know the rules. You’re late. You don’t get to come inside.”

“But Ivan⁠—”

He cuts me off by pressing the button that frosts the glass and leaves me outside. I’m soaked and freezing. My teeth chatter from the cold. I rub my arms up and down to bring me some worth but it’s no use, with wet clothes and wet hair, being warm isn’t in the cards for me.

I walk to the back deck since it’s covered, protecting me from the rain, and I lounge in one of the chairs, waiting for the storm to pass.

Day turns to night, the storm holds strong, and I’m left frozen in fear with every single lightning strike, wishing one would hit me.

“Mia! Are you fucking stupid? Answer me.”

His yelling brings me out of the horrible memory. I still feel the chill around me from that night and hear the thunder in my dreams or how the wind howled like a wild pack of wolves.

“I won’t be late, Ivan,” I whisper, drying my eyes, and reapplying my makeup.

“Good. I’ll see you later. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“I won’t,” I agree, knowing my duty for when I’m out in public.

Don’t say a word. Just smile. Nod. And repeat.

“Good.” The pounding of his heavy steps fade, and a second later the door slams shut, leaving me alone and in peace.

I break.

My knees give out. I fall onto the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and cry, wondering how this has become my life, asking why there’s no escape.

Knowing crying won’t save me, I stand, dry my eyes, wash my face, and start my makeup again.

It only takes me a half hour to get ready after he leaves. He’s the one who’s the reason why we’re always late. He’s always running his mouth or finding a reason to get mad at me. I would’ve already been out the door if he didn’t stop me just to instill fear in me.

His point is proven. I’m scared of him. I’ll always be scared of him.

Of this entire damn life. Our families. Everyone. Everything. I only want to be left alone.

Being alone is a luxury for people who are kept like me.

Slipping on a simple white dress that falls to my ankles, I snag my car keys and my purse, and leave, knowing when I arrive there isn’t going to be one person I know there. This is for the groom’s side of the family.

The ride is quiet. I don’t turn on the radio. All I hear is the hum of tires. It doesn’t take long to get to the venue. It’s one of Ivan’s father’s buildings, a luxury resort skyscraper. He shut down the entire place and stopped all reservations for this bridal shower.

Aleksandr Bykov, regardless of his title, has always treated me with respect and kindness. I don’t know where Ivan got his cruelty, but I don’t think his father is like that at all. Not that I’m the best judge of character—considering I didn’t even see Ivan’s red flags until it was too late.

The Bykov Hotel and Resort is so tall, it nearly touches the clouds. The windows are tinted so black, the building would blend in with the night if it weren’t for all of the tastefully placed neon lights.