Wicked Savage: Chapter 17

It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard from him. Since I’ve felt his touch, smelled his cologne, felt his skin on mine.

Every day should be easier, but it’s not. It just keeps getting harder.

I see him everywhere I go. Every man, for a second, feels like him—until I look closer and realize it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

He’s never coming back. He doesn’t even want to talk to me.

It’s over. Cillian is really gone.

Alisa and Natalia are speaking, but I can barely hear them. I’m staring at my phone, hoping for some sign, some reply, but he hasn’t answered. He probably never will.

That’s all I wrote. It was stupid. I know that. But last night, the memories hit me like a wave—us ice-skating in New York City at Rockefeller Center. It was so real. I could almost feel his hands on my hips, his breath in my ear.

“Steady, baby,” he whispered, tightening his grip. “You’re doing great.”

I laughed, not even afraid of falling because he was always there to catch me.

“Dinara, are you even listening?” Natalia’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I jerk toward her. “Huh? What?”

She tilts her head. “I won’t ask what you were daydreaming about. I already know.”

I pick up my glass of water, pushing the untouched salad around. Why did I even bother coming out? I’m terrible company.

“I was asking if you’re going to the club this weekend. Rzvrt is hosting an event on Saturday. We’re going.”

“No, I’m not going. But have fun.”

The idea of being there makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I can’t bear seeing him, feeling the sting of him ignoring me again.

“What do you mean, no? You need to come!” Alisa says. “You’ve been holed up for way too long, Din. This isn’t healthy. You look like a damn ghost.”

“Wow, thanks,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“What she means is…” Natalia shoots Alisa a look, almost like she’s scolding her. “We love you, okay? We just want to help you move on. And even if you were a ghost, you’d still be hot as hell.” She grins. “Please say yes. We don’t want to go without you.”

“I can’t. I’m done with that place. It’ll only remind me of him.”

“Stop it!” Natalia’s brows knit. “All you’ve done for weeks is mope around.”

“I haven’t been moping.”

“You definitely have,” Alisa chimes in, a sympathetic look on her face. “Hey, he might even be there.”

My gut twists, a sharp, ugly knot of jealousy coiling inside me.

What if she’s right? What if he’s already moved on?

The thought slams into me like a blade, cutting deep and leaving behind a burn I can’t ignore.

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But what if he did?

If Cillian thinks he can just show up there with some new woman at his side like I never fucking mattered, like I was replaceable, then he’d better be ready for what’s coming.

Screw this. Now I have to go and see it for myself.

“What the hell are you doing?” Natalia’s voice shakes me from my spiraling thoughts. “She doesn’t need to hear that!”

“No, it’s fine,” I quickly say, waving it off. “I’ll think about it and let you guys know.”

They both nod, but I know the truth.

There’s no way in hell I’ll be staying home now. And when he sees me, I’m gonna make him eat his heart out.

“How are you doing, Moya dorogaya?” Konstantin asks, sitting across from me at the table, eyes studying me like he’s trying to read every piece of me that’s falling apart inside.

Are you really okay? I know that’s what he’s asking, even if the words sound casual.

Everyone is here—my siblings, his brothers—but I feel more alone than I ever have. We’re all gathered around his large, gleaming dining table, but I just want to be alone.

They all know what happened. Knew it would end this way. And even though they warned me—even though deep down, I knew there was a chance they were right—I still hoped.

I wanted so badly for Cillian to pick me. To choose us. I wanted him to be the one to fight for what we had. But I didn’t matter enough.

The back of my throat burns as I swallow the sting of my own pain. I grab the club soda in front of me, forcing it down in large, shaky gulps, trying to drown out the ache.

“I’m fine.” The words come out too loud, too eager. I don’t mean for it to sound fake, but it does.

Tatiana, sitting beside me, squeezes my hand under the table. Her fingers wrap around mine with a silent understanding that cuts deeper than anything anyone could say.

Konstantin watches me for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening. “Good. I’m glad. I’m sorry it turned out this way. I had hopes that maybe you two would get married someday and help bring the families together. But he’s stubborn.” He shrugs. “What can you do?”

Married to Cillian? I could laugh…if the thought didn’t feel like a knife twisting in my gut.

Now we’ll never know.

“Yeah, what can you do?” I mutter, the words cold in my mouth.

Nothing. I can do nothing.

“Want me to…’ Kirill drags a finger across his throat, and I know exactly what he means.

His gaze flickers to his five-year-old son, Lev, who sits beside him, carefully lining up his broccoli before taking a bite—hopefully too focused to catch any of this conversation. He looks just like his dad, and thank goodness for that. The last thing Kirill needs is a constant reminder of the woman who walked out on them.

I don’t know what it means to be a mother, but I’d like to believe I’d never abandon my child—especially not because they were on the spectrum.

Kirill leans in, his near-black eyes glinting with a chilling promise. “I’ll make it look like an accident.” A slow, calculating grin tugs at his mouth. “You just tell me how much pain you want him to be in, and it’s done.”

A brittle, hollow laugh escapes me. “No, Kirill. I don’t want him dead.” I exhale, shaking my head. “But thank you for having my back.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Of course, sister. We are family.”

I should feel better, but all I feel is emptiness. It’s thick, palpable, like something pressing down on my chest.

Aleksei’s voice cuts through, sharp and bitter. “You love him or something?”

His words are blunt, no softness at all. He takes another shot of vodka, his eyes not leaving mine.

My heart skips. The pain is a physical thing now, heavy in my chest, but I don’t say anything.

Do I love him? I don’t even know. But that doesn’t stop the ache from ripping at me every time his face flashes in my mind.

Aleksei’s eyes narrow as I stay silent. He slams the shot glass down with a scowl. “He’s an idiot, Dinara. You can do better.”

Better? I’ve heard that before. Especially from Natalia. But it doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t change the fact that Cillian was the one I wanted. Not some better version of him.

I could have the world, but I want him.

“Literally anyone would be better.” Anton joins the mix, his mouth pulling into a thin smirk.

“Boys, boys,” Konstantin joins in, his tone shifting, softer now. “The heart wants what the heart wants.” He meets my gaze. “Don’t be ashamed of that. We’re only human. Once you let someone in, it’s hard to get them out. It’s why it’s better not to find yourself in that kind of predicament in the first place.”

The silence after his words feels like it could break me. He’s right; I know it. He knows it too. It’s why he keeps everyone at arm’s length. Why he never lets anyone get close enough to hurt him. Because this—what I’m feeling now—is the only inevitable end to love.

Anton chuckles. “Is that why you plan to be alone forever? Like a hermit?”

Konstantin’s lips twist in something close to a smile, but it’s grim. “That’s right. Better to avoid the unnecessary entanglements that only end one way.”

He lifts his glass and finishes his drink off in one motion, as if it’s nothing more than another empty habit.

“End how? In heartbreak?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

His gaze slices into mine. “Net, dorogaya. In death.”