I sit on my elbows. “I’m going downstairs.”
He shakes his head. “We have to talk.”
“I have nothing left to say to you.”
“You know I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did, Pavel.” I glare at him. “You meant every fucking word that you said.”
After fixing my tank top, I pull on a pair of sweats. I leave the bedroom before I can even consider changing my mind. What he did—what he threatened months ago—hurts as badly now as it did then.
Because I know he’ll do it.
***
The day passes without incident. Strangely enough, avoiding everyone in the safe house feels easier to do than it ever did back in the penthouse. And that place was huge.
I lock myself in the bedroom.I’ll never have to worry about that again.
The suitcase isn’t on the bed anymore. I find it in the closet with the zippers open and the contents empty. Shaking, I rush back and resume packing my things.
He isn’t keeping me here. I have nothing left in this place. I’m not going to waste my time trying to salvage something that was never meant to thrive. Just when I’m really getting into the spirit of throwing things around, a knock sounds from the door.
“Liya,” Pavel says. The doorknob jiggles. “Open the door.”
“No!”
The doorknob jiggles again. For a split second, I think he’s about to kick it down. But the moment passes, and silence returns. I’m not sure when Pavel leaves. I press my ear against the wood, listening for a hint of what might come next. Instead, all I hear is silence. A weird sense of victory settles over me.
And in its wake comes defeat.
Then sorrow.
It’s weird being in here alone. Yet I can’t bring myself to leave the room. I scan my surroundings and imbibe the tokens we’ve set up in here over the past couple of months—pictures, jewelry, loose change on the dresser. Makeup, brushes, lotion on the vanity. Pavel’s things are neatly arranged. Mine are in controlled chaos.
This room feels so uniquely us. How will it feel when I leave?
Routine—that’s what I need to do. Thinking isn’t going to make it happen faster. But routine? That’ll certainly shoot me into the future.
When I finally crawl into bed, I realize how heavy the silence feels. Its oppressive weight pins me to the mattress where Pavel did the same just hours ago.
A sob crawls up my throat.
It pierces the stillness. It forces me to my side.
And then, I break. Tears rush to the surface and soak my pillow. Deep, shuddering wails capture my grief. I curl into a ball as I crumble under the pressure of one thought and one thought only.
This might be our last night together.
It shouldn’t matter. He’s been nothing but a selfish prick. He’s been an asshole the entire time. He’s threatened me, he’s held me down, and he’s used his body to get what he wants. He’s usedmybody to get what he wants.
I should hate him. But every time I try, I can’t.
And that’s what makes me cry the hardest.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Pavel