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Turns out Sergei had nothing to worry about. Max didn’t turn into someone soft. He’s the carbon copy of his father, cold, ruthless, and destructive. No wonder he befriended Mikhail, the faceless monster that kills on demand and shows no remorse.

Another glass breaks, then another. Max’s roars vibrate through the room like thunder. It moves through the enclosed space, and my body shakes. Ten years of facing a man’s anger teach you to fear it because the first person who sees the fists of a violent man is the defenseless women and children in front of him. My eyes shut tight, and I will my mind to go back to that stage, to when Max wasn’t the monster but the man I loved with every fiber of my being.

When I was on stage with him, even when he was doing all those degrading things to me, something still pulled me toward him. From the moment I saw him, there was a spark, a connection, an untamed flame that could ignite the world with passion and desire. Our pull was so strong that we risked everything to find brief moments of ecstasy. Longing to get lost in each other and forget the horrible world we lived in. My love for Maxim was so strong that I would have run in front of a bullet for him. I loved him with such a consuming passion that it would be enough to drive a person insane. Without thinking twice, I would have sacrificed my own life for him. I loved him so much that I damned myself to hell.

Do I still love him? I’m not sure, but that pull was still there when I was on stage with him. Magnet and metal. We pull towards each other until we forget the entire world around us and move into an existence of our own creation. I want to rip out my treacherous heart and empty myself of any lingering feelings for Maxim because for this man, my heart is an idiot. The truth is, if Max loved me how he says he does, I would’ve been in his arms the same night he killed Sergei. Not ten years later. Not after I’ve lived a lifetime of pain and suffering because I gave him my heart when I was eighteen.

He swears he was looking for me all this time, but it should have been easy to find me with all the resources the Fedorov's have. It’s not like Max left the Bratva.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sings as more items crash on the ground. “I swear, Samira, when I find you, I’m going to punish you because you’re being a very bad girl.”

His anger is so palatable that it takes over the entire room. It’s like smoke choking me slowly, how his voice booms like his fingers tightening around my throat. I hate how my body reacts to that sense of fear, the longing to be under him while he holds my very breath in his hands. Not knowing if he’s going to kill me or kiss me.

Loving Max is like loving an ocean. It can be calm and peaceful or rip you under and drown you. He’s both my lifeline and the undertow.

Silence takes over the room, and for a moment, a sense of peace comes over me. Then I hear the heel of his shoe on the concrete floor.

My back’s pressed to the wall, and I’ve got nowhere to go. The cat will be the victor of this game of cat and mouse. The cat always wins. Once again, I’ll be the possession of a man. The only difference this time is that the man thinks that he loves me, but love isn’t possession. What Max feels for me is an obsession that will destroy us both. It’s not love. Men like Max aren’t capable of love.

“Samira, Samira, you’ve been a very naughty girl.” His steps are slow, almost like he fears spooking me. He bends down, and his fingers move under my chin, lifting my head. “What should I do with you?”

I lock eyes with him. “Leave me alone.”

He sucks in air. His head rears back as if my words have slapped him across the face. But the sadness is short-lived because before I can blink, he has my hair wrapped around his fist.

“Looks like you’ve forgotten who you belong to. I guess the show back there wasn’t a big enough lesson.”

He pulls me up by my hair. The pain is so excruciating that I fight back the sting in my eyes. He uses his other hand to bend me over, and my head almost hits the shelf in front of me.

“Hold on to the shelf. You’ll need it.”

He moves my panties to the side, exposing my pussy to him. His hand roams my ass momentarily before he pushes his cock into me. I scream, both from pleasure and pain.


Tags: Mila Crawford Crime