Wicked Savage: Chapter 26

I thought I saw Cillian today. Or at least I felt him. The familiar scent of his cologne hit me as a man brushed past, then disappeared as quickly as it came—like a shadow, slipping through my fingers.

I’m losing it. I must be. My mind’s spiraling into this maddening obsession. Seeing him everywhere, even when he’s not there. I’m sure I’m just imagining things.

He hasn’t reached out. Hasn’t even bothered to text. He’s moved on, yet I can’t.

With a heavy sigh, I step outside dressed for the night, instinctively glancing over my shoulder, just as I always do. My father and brother are still out there, and every day they remain free only feeds my fear.

Alisa and Natalia wait in the limo, their quiet presence grounding me. The moment I slide in, Pavel shuts the door behind me.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey yourself,” Natalia greets, eyeing me up and down. “You look fire in that dress.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, glancing down at my semi-see-through gown. It hugs my curves just the way I know he used to like.

“I’m surprised you actually agreed to come tonight.” Alisa raises a brow. “You’ve turned us down the last few times. What changed?”

“Maybe I’m finally ready to move on.” I attempt to sound convincing.

It’s a half-truth. Maybe part of me wants to move on, but most of me still aches with the memory of him.

“Right,” Alisa giggles. “You say that, and then you’re staring at his photos when we’re out to dinner.”

“That was once,” I protest.

“Twice, actually.” Natalia smirks.

I shrug, forcing a nonchalant smile.

“What can I say? The heart wants what it wants,” I repeat the words Konstantin once said to me.

“Tell your heart to stop,” Natalia fires. “He doesn’t want you back.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but there’s no denying the truth in them. He doesn’t. And I wish to God I could just forget him. But it’s proven impossible.

“Leave her alone,” Alisa says softly, glancing at me sympathetically.

Alisa’s been through it herself, dating someone recently who turned out to be a liar and a cheater. I don’t know if she’s ever truly moved on from that.

As for Natalia, she’s made of something stronger. She doesn’t crumble like the rest of us peasants. Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.

If she knew the real reason I was going to Rzvrt tonight, the real reason I put on this dress and stepped into this limo, she’d throw a fit.

I’m not going to have fun. I’m just hoping to see him again, even if it’s just one last time.

He’s probably with someone else by now. Someone classy and elegant. Someone who hasn’t wrecked his life the way my family destroyed his. But I have to know if he’s still going to the club. If he’s with someone else.

The thought is like a knife to my chest.

As the limo rolls up to a secluded mansion in the woods, an unsettling awareness washes over me. It’s like the air itself shifts—thicker, charged, electric.

I feel him. He’s here. I just know it.

The question now is, what am I going to do about it?

Reading her texts has its advantages, the biggest being knowing her every move.

I haven’t stepped foot in this club since the last time I saw her here, but after seeing the messages with her cousin and knowing she’ll be here tonight, I couldn’t stay away.

Fionn knows why I agreed to come. He knows the game.

And do I care that she’ll see me here? No.

I want to know if she’ll do something with someone else. Because I’ll always be there to fuck it right up. I’m just a savage in a suit who can’t let go of the one woman who mattered.

“Are you just going to watch her all night, or are you going to say something?” Fionn smirks, taking a swig of his whiskey.

“That’d be a bad idea,” I mutter, my eyes never leaving her while she’s talking to Natalia and Alisa.

“Why? Afraid you’re gonna fuck her?”

“Probably.”

His laughter grows; he finds amusement in my misery.

It’s been months since I’ve been with her. And yeah, the sex was good. Really good. But that’s not the only thing I miss. I miss the way she looked at me with those soulful eyes. The way it felt to just be with her, holding her.

I rub my face, frustration building, and order another drink. The burn of alcohol does nothing to cool the fire inside me.

Turning back to watch her, I let my eyes roam that figure, barely covered in a white lace see-through dress that hits her knees. My instincts scream to wrap my jacket around her and hide that damn body so no one looks at it. I can make out her damn tits from here.

I need to take her home.

As I drag a step forward, our eyes meet and everything fades. The crowd, the music, the noise…it all vanishes. It’s just her. Always her.

This is damn overwhelming. Wanting her. Needing her. Knowing she’s the one.

But there’s no future for us.

My blood pounds in my ears as I move toward her, not even sure what I plan to do. Talk? Kiss her? Tell her I can’t stop thinking about her?

I have no idea. All I know is I can’t stay away.

When I approach, she grabs some guy’s arm and starts talking to him, her eyes growing as I start to get closer.

Does she think I’m just gonna wait here while she has her damn hands on someone else? Does my girl not know me by now?

My girl.

Fuck. I shouldn’t think of her like that. Shouldn’t even let myself feel it. But it’s there, clawing at me.

“Dinara.” Her name bursts from me like a dam breaking, the hunger too raw, too possessive.

Her eyes snap on me, darkened with something sharp and knowing. She sees the madness in me. I can’t hide it. Not even if I tried.

The guy turns. His face is hidden behind a mask, same as mine.

“Hey,” she says, sounding too damn cheery, pissing me off even more.

Her fingers trace his arm, and it makes my skin burn.

I don’t think. I move, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from him like I have every right to. Her touch, her warmth, the feeling of her skin beneath mine…it’s everything I’ve missed.

She doesn’t fight me. Instead, her eyes widen—a flicker of recognition, how right her body feels next to mine.

My lips brush against her knuckles. I kiss them, softly, desperately, like I’ve been starved of this for too long. I close my eyes for a moment, holding on to this touch.

God, I’ve missed everything about you.

Her friends watch, silent and still, while I touch her like she still belongs to me.

“Should I go?” the guy mutters, stepping back.

“No—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“That’s a good idea.”

My eyes never leave hers. Lust, anger, desperation, fear…all of them create a storm inside me. Fear that I’ll lose her for good. That I’ve already lost her. And yet here I am, holding her hand like I own it.

I pull her closer, lips against her ear. The scent of her perfume wraps around me, and for a second, it’s like we’re back—back when things were simpler, before the chaos.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is tight, like she’s holding back the words she wants to scream. Her jaw clenches. “We do.” She turns to her friends. “Excuse us for a minute.”

Natalia watches me, her glare lethal.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” I laugh, looking back at Dinara as we move through the crowd.

“My cousin?” She scoffs. “No, she hates you. In fact, I think she pictures your face when we go ax throwing.”

My chuckle deepens. “I deserve that.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

I offer a half-smile. “I have some redeeming qualities.”

“Not many,” she snickers, her eyes lighting up with that spark that used to make everything feel like it was possible.

“Funny.” I pull her through the maze of bodies, past the chaos, until we find a more secluded corner.

I turn her toward me, my hands caging her against the wall as though holding on to her is the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.

“What do you want from me, Cillian?” A soft ache bleeds through her words. It’s an ache I put there, and it breaks me every time I hear it. “When are you going to stop this?”

“Stop what?” My muscles tense, despising the irritation in her tone.

“Hurting me.” She looks at me like I’m a stranger. A monster.

I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” I whisper, the truth breaking through.

Her laugh is empty, a sound that cuts deep. “Then why the hell are you here? Why are you following me like this?” She pulls her hand from mine, her fingers trembling with anger. “Are you stalking me? Because that’s what it looks like.”

If she only knew I live next door to her, she’d have me committed.

“I’m not gonna deny it.” My lips curl into something bitter. “It seems you were right. There is a first time for everything.”

“What?” Her features twist in confusion.

“You don’t remember, do you?” My knuckles trace the curve of her jaw.

“Remember what?”

“What you said to me the night we met.”

She shakes her head.

I reach for her cheek, softly caressing the skin that once made me feel complete. “You told me I was stalking you. And I said I wasn’t in the habit of stalking women. You laughed and said, ‘I’m sure there’s a first time for everything.’You were right, a ghra.”

Her eyes widen, like she’s surprised I remember at all. I lean in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. My lips brush hers tenderly, like I’m afraid this will all slip away if I press too hard. Her breaths stutter as her hands slide toward my back, fingers hesitating like she’s fighting herself. It takes everything in me not to lose control right here and now.

“You need to stop,” she whispers—breathless, needy, like she hates how much she still wants me.

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” I pin her closer to my body, needing to touch every part of her, to remind her that she’s mine.

Her brows furrow, her hand trembling as it cups my cheek. “I hate this.” She sighs, the sound raw and heavy with emotion. “It feels like you’ve forgotten everything.”

Everything. The way we fit. The way we burned for each other. The way it was perfect before the truth ripped us apart.

She has no idea how wrong she is.

My hand wraps around her throat, tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “I didn’t forget a damn thing.” My lips brush against hers. “You don’t understand what you represent, Dinara. You’re everything that’s wrong, and I can’t look past it.”

Her grip tightens on my bicep, every part of her breaking. “Then leave me alone. Turn around and never look back.”

“If only it was that simple.” I lean in, my lips grazing her ear. “I lost myself the moment I first saw you, and there’s no antidote for that.”

Her breath shudders, a frustrated, helpless sound.

“That’s not my problem,” she groans as I press against her. Her nails rake up my back, and I crave for them to dig in deeper, to mark me with a brand only she can leave. “You can’t keep chasing me away from every guy I talk to.”

She has no idea just how deep my sabotage runs.

“Watch me.” My fingers trail up her inner thigh—slow, deliberate, testing the boundaries of her resistance.

She should push me away. I need her to. But we both know she won’t. A quivering sigh slips past her lips as I brush aside the last barrier between us, my fingers finding her warm, slick, and aching.

“Oh God,” she breathes, sounding like something between surrender and despair. “This isn’t fair.”

Nothing about this is fair. Not this moment. Not the past. Not the way my body still begs for her like an addiction I’ll never break.

I roll her clit between my fingers, and she trembles. Every muscle in my body tightens, wanting her to lose herself in this, to give in, to remind me she still feels this torment too.

“I’m a bastard,” I murmur against her throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath her skin. “But you like it, don’t you?” My thrusts deepen, my thumb working her into desperation, forcing her to feel what she does to me. “You like knowing I can’t forget you. That I still need you.”

A sharp inhale quakes through her, but then her eyes flash with rage, and before I can stop her, she grabs my wrist and yanks me away.

“How does that help me?” Her voice breaks, raw with anger, with grief. “The best thing you can do is forget me.”

I know that. God, I fucking know that.

She shoves at my chest, shaking her head like she hates what we are, what we’ve become. “You’re the one who ended this, remember?”

The words land like a punch to the ribs. The knot in my throat tightens, but I force myself to let her go.

“For good fucking reason.”

“Then stop this madness!” She throws her hands in the air. “Stop it once and for all.”

I want to. Fuck, I want to. But I don’t know how.

Her bitter laugh slashes through me, but it’s the pain in her eyes that guts me. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s nothing I can say that won’t make this worse.

“God damn it!” I grip the back of my head, trying to shake off the chaos inside me.

She’s not yours. You did this.

“I’m leaving now,” she says, smoothing down her dress with shaking hands, each motion so heartbreakingly final. “Don’t follow me.”

Everything in me screams to stop her. To pull her back. But I just stand there as she turns to go.

Then she peers over her shoulder. Just once. And it’s that look—that quiet, devastating look—that destroys me.

Before I can think, I’m on her, crushing the space between us, my fingers tilting her chin up as I kiss her. Desperate. Unforgiving. A war between everything I can’t have and everything I still need.

I’m so damn sorry.

I miss you.

I could’ve loved you.

She’s the first to pull away, and I know: this is too much. Too much for her. Too much for me. I rest my forehead against hers right before I press a kiss there, a silent goodbye neither of us wants to say.

“Go,” I whisper. “Please…just go. And don’t look back. Because if you do, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Her fingers brush mine—hesitant, lingering.

“I…” she falters.

I hold my breath. Waiting. Dreading.

But she doesn’t finish. Whatever she wants to say, whatever confession is on the tip of her tongue, she swallows it down and lets me go. And just like that, she turns and walks away.

The silence she leaves behind is unbearable.

And I know I will never be whole again.