Chapter 166 166

Chapter 166 166
If we don’t consume each other right this goddamn second, I don’t know how I’m going to go on living.

He grabs me, flips me back around to face the mirror, and frees his cock. He’s in me in a heartbeat, one slow thrust that fills me up fuller than I’ve ever been before. I bite my lip to stifle a cry and plant a hand on the mirror to keep from crumbling beneath him.

There’s nowhere I can’t look, because I’m everywhere. We both are.

And watching him fuck me is the sexiest moment of my life.

I watch greedily as Isaak starts to fuck me faster. There’s no easing me into anything. He fucks me like he has every right to it, to all of me. He fucks me like it’s the end of the world and he has only a few minutes left.

His muscles flex and contract with every thrust. My ass is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but I don’t care.

I just want him deep, deep, deeper. I want to chase this feeling until it crashes over me.

Everything feels heightened. Multiplied times two for every reflection of us. Until it’s all too much and I’m coming, I’m coming—

And then I hear footsteps.

“Some… someone’s… fuck… coming…”

But it’s too late to stop. Isaak comes inside me and I finish my orgasm as he does, spluttering from the lips and spasming hard on his cock.

As soon as I’m freed, I scramble to my clothes.

Panting wildly, I grab my clothes and run behind Isaak for good measure. I ignore my bra and panties completely and pull on my dress in a panic. It’s a good choice, too, because as I’m buttoning up the dress, the door of the mirror room bursts open.

I relax a little when I realize it’s Bogdan in the doorway.

I manage to hook up one more button before I realize that something is wrong. His clothes are torn and he’s bleeding from the arm, the ribs, the nose, the lip. But all of that pales in comparison to the expression on his face—sheer fucking terror.

“What happened?” snarls Isaak.

He shakes his head. “Sobrat, I’m so sorry. Mama was found unconscious by the Ferris Wheel. They fucking jumped me. And they…”

Isaak understands everything that’s happened a moment before I do. He walks forward in two furious strides. “Bogdan, where is Jo? Where the fuck is my daughter?”

My stomach feels like it’s about to drop right out of my body. The sheer terror that grips me is so acute that I can’t feel my extremities.

“I’m sorry,” Bogdan says again. “They… they took her, Isaak. They fucking took her.”

36

ISAAK

The silence is deafening as we drive back to the mansion.

We each sit in our own silence, every shroud a different color, tainted by a different emotion.

Mama’s silence is filled with grief, loss, and a touch of confusion. She only came to minutes ago while we were on the road. They’d taken her out with chloroform.

They’d saved the muscle for Bogdan. His silence is drenched in regret and guilt.

Camila’s silence, on the other hand, is burning with anxiety, filled with a fear that I can feel even with the distance between us.

And my silence is stewing in anger. A rage so deep and so volatile that I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. Because before I take my rage to Maxim, I need to let some of it out now—before I combust.

This is the closest I have ever come to losing control.

This is the closest I have ever come to swerving off the road and fucking burning my life to the ground.

Somehow, I let myself get distracted. Maxim swooped in and took advantage. I glance at my brother and he tenses immediately. He knows the fire raging beneath my brooding.

“Isaak—”

“Don’t.”

The word slashes through the air. I know everything’s he’s about to say and I’m not fucking interested.

I can’t bring myself to look at Camila’s face. She turned into a ghost the moment Bogdan said the words that broke through our little bubble of bliss.

And she’s not coming back to the land of the living any time soon. The last time I looked at her, her eyes were glazed over. She looked in my direction, but I knew she was looking through me, not at me.

The only thing she was seeing was her five-year-old screaming for the safety of arms she was familiar with.

Bogdan’s phone starts to ring and he answers it immediately. “Yes, tell me. Uh-huh… yes… yes… yes.”

He sighs and lets his hand fall in his lap like it’s the heaviest thing in the world. Which tells me exactly what he’s about to say before he says it.

“Both teams have scoured the entire carnival,” Bogdan tells me. “She’s gone.”

“Of course she’s fucking gone,” I snap. “He wasn’t about to kidnap her and then keep her there.”

Bogdan doesn’t even flinch at my tone. He takes the anger and the blame because he’s no coward. I try and remind myself of that fact to distract from how badly I want to land a punch at his nose and finish what his attackers started.

It’s not his fault, though. Not truly.

It’s mine.

The moment we’re in my compound, the gates snap shut and I’m out of the vehicle. I don’t look around and I don’t wait to be spoken to. I storm straight into the house and straight into the room with the bar.

I think I’m craving a drink, but once I’ve taken a massive swig from the whiskey bottle on display, I realize alcohol is not going to do shit right now.

All the adrenaline coursing through my body is eating up the whiskey until there’s nothing left but a gnawing hollowness in my gut.

How could I have been so fucking blasé about our outings?

Of course Maxim was keeping tabs on us. Of course he was watching. Somehow, I’d let myself underestimate him. And the loss of my daughter was the cost.

My hand tightens around the glass in my hand and I fling it across the room with all the strength I can muster. It slams against the French doors and shatters.

That’s what gives me the satisfaction I was searching for in the whiskey.

Clinging to that fleeting feeling, I grab another bottle and hurl it across the room. Once I’ve started, I know I can’t possibly stop.

Not when there’s so much left to be destroyed.

I’ve destroyed half the room when Bogdan walks in. He stays by the door, wary of the next thing I’m going to break.

“Isaak!”

I ignore him and upend the coffee table. Imported from Milan a few years ago. Damn near priceless. CRACK—ruined.

“Brother!”

I turn to him, my chest rising and falling in sharp succession. I know what I must look like: a desperate man who’s fallen off the deep end.

But that’s exactly what I am. So be it.

I have no desire to attempt to calm down. This is the fury that I will wield to meet Maxim Vorobev and end this little dance we’ve been locked in for far too fucking long.

It’s time I take him out.

Vorobev blood be damned—the bastard is going to die.

“ISAAK! Please.” I turn to face my ashen-faced brother, chest heaving with exertion. “I know I fucked up,” he says. “You want to hurt me? Go ahead. I deserve it.”

He walks across the room, stepping over the furniture I’ve upended, and plants himself in front of me.

“Hit me,” he says.

“Don’t fucking tempt me.”