Dmitry
I have tortured myself for the past week because I wanted to respect her wish. Because I wanted to show her how different I am.
And look what happened.
Some f*****g lunatics thought they could ambush her. Touch her. f*****g try to scare her.
My woman.
The thought gnaws deep in my chest, sharp and relentless, with only one escape. Making sure I find them. Making sure they pay for the fear she faced.
Fuck.
And that savior, the one she is all fangirling over. That girl fits only one person. Someone who should not be back here in New York.
I pray it isn’t her.
Footsteps rush down the stairs and I glance up. Gia is descending, hair plaited back, dressed in soft home clothes. Safe clothes. The kind she wears when she thinks nothing can touch her.
She stops when she sees me stand
