Wicked Savage: Chapter 28

“How far away are you?” Natalia’s voice crackles through the phone the next day, her concern cutting through the fog of my thoughts.

My grip on the steering wheel is so tight my knuckles are white, and the tears still streak down my face, falling unchecked onto my lap. I don’t even care at this point.

“About ten minutes,” I whisper, the words thick and heavy, as if they’ve been torn from the very depths of me.

I’m trying so hard not to let it all unravel, not to collapse in on myself. Because I can’t. I won’t.

The rain taps against my windshield, the sound like a hundred tiny hammers hitting metal. I reach up to wipe my eyes again, but they keep filling faster than I can clear them.

“God, if I could, I swear I’d go kill him,” Natalia mutters.

I know her too well to think she’s entirely joking. But I know she’d never really do it.

I choke back a sob and try to force some strength into my voice. “I don’t hate him enough to want him dead. Not yet, anyway.”

I can barely breathe through the pain in my chest as I press my foot onto the gas, feeling the car jerk slightly as it speeds up. The road’s slick with rain, and the world outside is a blur of gray and black—the kind of day where everything feels suffocating.

“I don’t know, Din.” I hear her frustration and love for me in the sharpness of her words. “You need to get rid of him. He’s a fucking liability. And if you see him again, tell Konstantin. He’ll take care of it, and if he does kill him…I mean, oh well.”

“I know,” I cut in with a deep sigh. “I know. But it’s not that simple. I still care too much.”

An ache rips through me before I can stop it.

God, why is this still so hard? Why does it still hurt like the day he walked away? Why do I let him do this to me?

I swallow back the lump in my throat, then try again. “I knew this could happen. I just…I wanted to believe he’d come to his senses after…”

“After he fucked your brains out?” She sounds almost too casual, but I can hear the protective edge in her voice.

“Yeah.” I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Obviously that didn’t happen.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone.

“From now on, Din, if he contacts you, don’t respond. Don’t even look his way. For your sake, he doesn’t exist.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. It’s what I’ve been telling myself ever since he broke up with me.

He’s gone. I have to let go. He’s not worth it.

But how? How do I pretend that the man who tore my heart apart doesn’t exist when I can still feel the echo of his touch, the taste of his kiss, the sound of his presence lingering in my mind?

I blink back tears as the rain picks up even more, the pitter-patter now a roar against the roof of the car.

“Shit,” she says. “How far are you? It’s getting bad out there.”

“Only a couple of miles.” I fight the tightness in my chest, trying to hold myself together.

“Okay, good,” she replies. “Because I’ve got⁠—”

And then everything shatters.

One moment, I’m gripping the wheel. The next⁠—

Headlights explode in my vision. Tires shriek. Metal crumples.

The impact slams into me like a freight train. My body whips forward, the seat belt biting into my skin as the car spins out of control. The world tilts and twists, and I’m weightless for a terrifying second before gravity yanks me down.

A crash. A crunch. A sickening jolt. My phone flies from the cup holder while Natalia’s voice crackles through the speaker, distant and frantic.

“Din, are you there? Answer me! Din!”

I try to breathe. Try to move. But the world is already slipping away.

Darkness swallows everything.

My foot bounces relentlessly against the floor of the jet as I sit here with my hands clenched tight around my phone, trying—desperately trying—to convince myself that I did the right thing. I keep staring at her name on the screen, my thumb hovering over the keys, wondering if I should send her a text. Apologize again.

Maybe this time it’ll make sense to her. Maybe I can undo the damage I’ve done.

I was harsh, I know I was, but it was for the both of us. I couldn’t let her cling to something that was never meant to be.

But what if she’s still crying? What if she’s lying there in bed, her heart breaking the same way mine is?

I can’t stop the guilt from clawing and tearing at me.

My body grows rigid with indecision. Every fiber of me is screaming to go back, to hold her, to make her see things from my perspective. That we can never have this. That no matter how much I care for her, I can’t let myself have her.

The jet starts to roll down the runway, and I’m out of my seat in a heartbeat.

“Fuck! Stop the plane.”

The stewardess blinks in confusion. “Sir? Is there a problem?”

“I need to handle something,” I grit out. “Tell the pilot to stop the plane.”

She hesitates, but a second later, her voice crackles over the intercom. The pilot responds. The engines cut. The plane slows.

I’m already moving, jacket in hand, heart hammering.

This is a mistake. I know it. But I can’t walk away, not after leaving her like that.

As the plane comes to a full stop, my mind’s running wild with thoughts of her, of the last few hours, of how I could have handled things better.

I was an asshole. She deserves better than this. She deserves more than I can give her.

As soon as the door opens, I’m rushing down the stairs and ordering my rental car to return.

An hour later, I’m standing in front of her house, the rain falling in sheets. I’m fucking soaked to the bone, but I don’t care. The guards let me through without question as soon as they hear my name, and I stand at the door, the gravity of the moment sinking in.

I could leave. I could turn around and walk away right now. But I know if I do, I’ll never forgive myself.

A woman from the cleaning staff opens the door as soon as I ring the bell, her eyes flicking over me with no recognition. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“I need to speak with Dinara.” I force myself to sound calm, controlled, like I’m not going insane. “Tell her it’s Cillian.”

Her expression shifts, the smallest twitch of her lips, and then she sighs.

“I’m sorry. But she left,” she explains in a thick Russian accent. “I can tell her you come.”

My heart drops into my stomach.

“She’s here,” I demand, my voice barely in control now. “She’s just hiding from me, right? She doesn’t want to see me?”

The woman shakes her head, her lips thin and tight. “No, sir. She left.”

When I glance at the driveway, I realize her car is gone.

She’s not here.

One of the guards standing to my left steps forward, a smug look in his eyes. “You heard her. She left. Now go.”

I whip around to face him, fury flashing through me like a bolt of lightning. My hand instinctively moves toward the grip of my gun.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to,” I growl, the words scraping out of me. “But I suggest you shut your mouth and stay out of my way.”

The woman’s eyes go wide and she starts to close the door in my face, but not before I see the flash of fear. The guard laughs, clearly thinking I’m bluffing, but I’m not. I take a step closer, the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“Hvatit,” the other one snaps at him in Russian like he’s scolding him. “Ti nekhochesh problemy s bossom.”

I nod sharply, my temper dropping to a dangerous edge. “Yeah. Listen to your friend.”

The guard finally steps aside and I head back into my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. I send her a text, just to check on her, but deep down, I know she won’t answer.

Even hours later, nothing.

It’s probably for the best. Maybe this is exactly what we both needed.

But I can’t shake the hollow feeling. The emptiness. The raw hole in my chest where her smiles used to be. Because no matter how many miles I put between us, no matter how many mistakes I make, she’ll always be the one.

And I’ll never stop wanting her.