Makayla gasped, her nails digging into Mikhail’s wrist as his fingers tightened around her throat. Her lungs screamed for air, her vision flickering at the edges. But she couldn’t look away from him.
Mikhail’s eyes—
They were wrong.
Cold.
Empty.
But for a single, fleeting second—
That hesitation had been there.
Makayla’s chest ached.
It wasn’t enough.
Not yet.
But she couldn’t let it slip away.
“Mikhail,” she rasped, forcing the word through her crushed throat.
His grip twitched.
Makayla’s pulse jumped.
Yes.
Yes, there it was.
Small.
But there.
Mikhail’s fingers hesitated—just for a second—
Then—
Gino sighed.
“Enough.”
The sound was calm. Even.
But it shattered everything.
Mikhail’s hesitation was gone.
Like it had never been there at all.
Makayla choked, her head
