LOGINSUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.One look….all it took was one look into my husband’s eyes, and I could swear something was wrong. “Kirill…?” I gasped, watching with my heart in my mouth, the taste of blood on the tip of my tongue. I reached for him quickly, my hands grabbing him by the shoulder before he could fall. His hair looked all over the place, like someone had pulled, tugged, and grabbed it viciously. He also sported bruises, so many bruises, and the way he breathed…it was off, like it hurt to take oxygen in. “You don’t look so good…wait here.” I stood, but before I could take another step, he grabbed my hand, his eyes wide with fear, no, terror.“Where are you going?” He asked, voice raw, pained, and strained. My heart skipped a beat, not out of any butterflies in my stomach, but the realization, yet again, that something was wrong…so fucking wrong.“I want to get the first aid box, Kirill. Your wounds need tending immediately.”“I’m okay.” He shook his head vehemently, grabbing and
SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.I paced the length of the locked door to the gold room for the third time in the past five minutes. I know this because Mikhail’s been updating me on time even though he, just like me, doesn't have a damn clock. “Mrs Volkov, please relax…it’s all under control.” Mikhail’s soft, calm voice only aggravated me further. I turned to him with a sharp glare, wondering how the hell he managed to stay calm, as if we didn’t both just see my husband with a gun in his hand, while that girl I always see Antov texting jumped in the air to strike me. “And how on earth am I the only one pacing right now? We did see how that girl behaved, right? She didn’t look or feel normal. And I get the nudge she was aiming for me, she wanted to hurt me, and did you see Kirill? I’ve never seen him like that, Mikhail. He had a gun, and blood… what the hell is going on?” I panted, my chest rising and falling rapidly, as my world tilted, spinning off its axis. My knees buckled, feeling weak
KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW.The silence that followed the moment she stopped breathing was deafening. It pressed against my eardrums, heavy and thick with the scent of ozone and copper. I stood over them, the Beretta still warm in my hand, watching the light fade from the eyes of the girl who had almost dismantled my entire world in a matter of seconds.Antov didn't move for what felt like the longest time. He sat on the blood-stained marble, cradling her head in his lap, his fingers stroking her hair softly while he cried as if he could brush the death away."She’s gone, Antov," I said. My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears. He didn't look up; he kept his gaze transfixed on her alone. "You didn't have to hit any vital points, Kirill. You’re the best marksman the Creed ever produced. I’ve watched you shoot sometimes when you do target practice. You could have taken her kneecaps, or something else……you could have just disabled her.""She was mid-air, Antov! She was inches from Summe
KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW.Before I could blink, she lunged at me. I made to pull the trigger, but one kick from her threw the gun from my hand. She grabbed my neck with her legs before literally throwing me across the room. I groaned, but knew I couldn’t rest. Thankfully, she’d thrown me to where the gun lay. Grabbing it quickly, I aimed and pulled the trigger, but she was quick to dodge.Well, not quick enough. The bullet grazes the side of her thigh, making her hiss and grunt loudly. But she doesn’t stop. The bullet tore an ugly path through her thigh, painting the white marble with a spray of crimson. She hissed, a sound that was more animal than human, but to my surprise, she didn't collapse. Most people would have gone into shock, but Misha Harman didn't even break her stride. She used the momentum of her stumble to roll, her body coiling and snapping back up like a spring… fuck, she was fast. She barely resembled an average fighter. From the way she moved, I knew one undeniable f
KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW.The transformation was so absolute it was sickening. Misha Harman didn’t just change her expression; she changed her entire presence. The girl who had been trembling in Antov’s arms moments ago, the one who smelled of lavender and innocence, was gone. In her place sat a predator, her spine straightening with a series of audible, rhythmic cracks."Antov, get back," I commanded, my voice as sharp as knives. I didn't dare take my eyes off her, and I didn't lower the gun either. I recognized that look in her eyes; it wasn’t the innocent one she had earlier… It’s one of a wounded, alert soldier."Kirill..." Antov’s voice was a soft, pathetic whisper. He looked at her, his hands twitching at his sides, caught in the agonizing space between the girl he loved and the monster she had become. "Wren? Talk to me."Misha’s head tilted slowly, her neck moving with a mechanical precision. She didn't look at him. She looked through him, her gaze fixed on the hallway leading to
KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW. The second my brother rushed in with her, I aimed even higher at both him and her, both guns drawn as he eyes me warily. “What the hell are you doing, brother?” he hissed, clearly confused, but I was not having it. People in love were either of two things: the greatest assets, or the most disappointing weaknesses….and I did not know the category my brother fell into. That made him a potential threat. If I screwed myself over by trusting him, he could ultimately take her side, and that would cost me everything. “Set her on the chair,” I commanded, watching as he obeyed me. Once her limp, unconscious body was seated, I handed him the robotic cuffs and warned him with my eyes. He pursed his lips, probably understood what the hell was on the line as he turned around and locked her in. The only way she would free herself was if she had my fingerprint. “She’s tied, Kirill…you can put the gun down now,” Antov whispered, and for a second, I held it to his head, le
SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.He stood a bit far away from our table, his eyes dark yet icy enough to freeze hell over. He clenched his hands into fists; he kept them hidden in his pockets, but I clearly saw the outline of them. He didn’t look at me; rather, he kept his full focus on Thiago’s hands aroun
SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW. One moment, my husband was in my arms, speaking words I didn’t understand, but I chose to hear him regardless. Next, he was limp in my arms, his eyes shut, as he lay unconscious in my arms, my heart beating frantically as I shook him. “Kirill?” I pushed at his chest, shakin
SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW. One moment, my husband was in my arms, speaking words I didn’t understand, but I chose to hear him regardless. Next, he was limp in my arms, his eyes shut, as he lay unconscious in my arms, my heart beating frantically as I shook him. “Kirill?” I pushed at his chest, shaki
KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW. I know what darkness feels like. I’d lived it ever since I was born in the harsh weather of the Russian climate, especially in the home I grew up in, the things I’d witnessed, and the things I’d done to bring my family out of that hell. It felt cold, lonely, and painfully e







