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My hands fly up, and I grip my hair while letting out a frustrated shout.

I hate this fucking life.

The wait for the Bratva to show up.

The calls from Laufer.

The way Miles always keeps an eye on me.

The easygoing friendship between Harlan and Annie.

The powerlessness.

The fucking leash tied around my neck.

If I had met Annie before handing myself over to the FBI, and I’d fallen for her, I would’ve just taken her. No one would’ve been able to stop me.

I walk to the boxing bag that hangs beside the window and begin to slam my fists into the leather, which is already cracking from overuse.

I can’t take Annie.

I have to stop what’s happening between us, because at some point, I will have to leave. That’s inevitable.

She’ll feel more and more for me until it becomes love, because that’s the kind of woman she is.

And no matter how selfish I am, I can’t take her love and disappear with it.

I might be a soulless monster, but even I can’t hurt her like that.

Chapter 11

Annie

Sitting on top of the table, I lift my fingertips to my lips. They’re tingly and warm from the dominant and super intense way Owen kissed me.

The moment his mouth slammed into mine, I was done for. I couldn’t get enough of his taste and the way he took what he wanted.

When his erection pressed between my legs, it took all my strength not to give in and ride him.

I stare at the doorway, not sure what I did wrong.

Honestly, I didn’t want to have sex on a table in the laundry room. That’s why I told him to wait. But I didn’t want him to stop kissing me.

Shit.

A heaviness sinks into my heart because it feels like I screwed up.

The pained expression he had while we were chatting flits through my mind, and now more than ever, I think Owen is broken.

Am I pushing him too hard? Should I back off completely and let him come to me?

The washing machine beeps, signaling it’s done, and I slip off the table. While I pull my clothes out and put them in one of the dryers, I glance at Owen’s machine.

I’ll hang around and finish his laundry in case he doesn’t come back.

Leaning against the dryer as it starts to spin, I fold my arms around my middle and stare at my bare feet.

I hear footsteps, and my head snaps up, hope pouring into my chest. When Miles comes in, I feel disappointed.