Todos los capítulos de Her Neglected Scars: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 88

The guard’s heavy leather glove clamps onto my shoulder, fingers digging into my collarbone.“I said move, you fucking lunatic!” he grunts, giving me a violent shove backward.My bare feet catch on the edge of the stone curb.I hit the wet pavement hard, the impact jarring straight up my spine.My hands fly out to catch myself, and the coarse gravel gouges into my palms, tearing open the scabbed skin on my wrists.Fresh red blood beads up against the grey dirt.“Wait—please!” I scramble onto my knees, wiping my bleeding hand across the thigh of my filthy jeans. “Just take a message to him! Tell Konstantin I’m at the gate! Five minutes—that’s all I need! He knows who I am!”The guard steps through the pedestrian gate, unholstering his rubber nightstick.He taps it against his palm with a slow, dull thud. “You think you’re the first cracked-out whore to show up here claiming she’s the boss’s wife? We dragged two off the property yesterday. Get your ragged ass out of here before I use th

Four days pass in a suffocating blur of white cotton sheets, yellowing bruises, and complete isolation.Nobody comes into my room except for a silent junior maid who slides a tray of cold soup and dry bread onto the side table before practically sprinting back out the door like I’m carrying the plague.I don’t even bother trying to talk to her.My throat hurts too much, and the humiliation of begging for someone to believe me got old on day two.By the fifth afternoon, the silence in my bedroom feels like it’s going to cave my skull in.I pull on an oversized grey knit sweater, step into a pair of worn leggings, and pad out into the long, carpeted hallway.My bare soles make no sound against the runner rugs as I head toward the sunroom in the east wing.Through the archway, I spot a flash of blue fabric.Leonid.My heart gives a pathetic, foolish little leap.He’s sitting on the plush rug by the floor-to-ceiling windows, trying to balance a set of heavy wooden building blocks into a t

“Why did you betray me like they did . . . moya dusha?”The question hangs heavy in the space between our mouths, thick with the sharp stench of expensive scotch and raw, bleeding hurt.Konstantin’s dark eyes burn into mine, completely wide and wrecked.His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling my scalp just enough to make my eyes water.“Konstantin, stop,” I breathe out, planting my palms flat against his burning chest.I push against the heavy muscle of his shoulders, trying to create even an inch of space.“Let me up. You’re fucking plastered. You don’t know what you’re saying right now. Just listen to me for once—““I listened to you for months,” he growls out, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against my throat.“I listened while you lied to my face in my own bed.”“I was trying to save my mother!” I shout into his face, the words tearing out of my chest like jagged glass.“I didn’t—“ He cuts me off before I can finish the sentence. His mouth slams down onto mine with brutal, desperat

“Konstantin?”My voice comes out as a dry, cracked rasp. It bounces off the plaster walls of the master bedroom.Silence answers me. No boots on the floorboards. No deep voice telling me to stay still.I push myself up onto my elbows and wince. A sharp ache shoots through my lower back and thighs, a reminder of every hour we spent tangled in these sheets.I reach across the wrinkled cotton. My fingers find empty space.The sheets are cold where his body was radiating heat only hours ago.I check the clock on the nightstand. Past nine. He’s been gone for hours.I slip out of bed, my bare feet hitting the hardwood. A black dress shirt lies on the floor near the dresser, the one he wore before we tore it apart.I pick it up and press my face into the collar. Woodsmoke. Amber whiskey. Rain. And him.A small, foolish smile tugs at my chapped lips.He stayed, I tell myself. Last night meant something. He was drunk, yes, but he came back to me. He held me.Once he’s sober, I can tell him eve