Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And the others who tormented her? One by one, every teacher and bully classmate who hurt her faced brutal consequences. It's no fun being stranded in the middle of nowhere with slashed tires or finding your bank account drained. It took strategic planning, but it was done.
Now, there's an exposé about the strange and mysterious events that happened at Liberty Ridge. I tried to stagger them initially, but I got impatient. If I had my way, they'd all be gone. Every last one of them.
“They're lucky they're alive,” I muttered.
Kolya leaned forward and tapped my beer bottle with his. “Another?”
He allowed me to drink once a month. No more, no less. I didn't like to indulge because I wanted to stay in control, but I enjoyed a beer with him. Fortunately for me, I could handle quite a bit.
“I want you to keep something in mind, Viktor,” Kolya said.
I nodded. “Yes?”
“Revenge can be a powerful motivator. But it can also eat you alive. Consume your every waking thought and your dreams as well. I ought to know. I’ve been there.”
I nodded and polished off my drink just as the waitress brought over a second. With her full bust and curvy ass, she leaned closer to me, trying to get my attention, but I turned away.
I only have eyes for one woman.
“You’ve done what needed to be done to protect her. I get it. But don’t let it destroy you in the process.”
I grunted and turned away, taking another long pull from the beer. “I won’t let them get away with what they did.”
“And you shouldn’t,” he said. “But there’s a line between justice and obsession you don’t want to cross.”
I took a deep breath and sipped my beer—my taste soured with bitterness. “I get it,” I said, though part of me wondered if I really did.
Kolya nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Now tell me what you plan next.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lydia
I stare in front of me, hardly believing what I see. This is beyond what I ever imagined I’d find in Viktor’s possession.
An old bottle with the golden letters reading Opulence, a perfume I used when I was younger.
Where did that come from?
A napkin with a smear of lipstick and a torn page from a notebook that looks eerily familiar. I don’t recognize the napkin, of course, but when paired together with the other things…
When I pick it up, my skin prickles as if someone’s standing behind me right this very minute.
I look over my shoulder and see no one.
There’s an empty coffee cup with my name scribbled on it from a coffee shop.
Lydia
The letters are smeared now as if someone… rubbed their finger over the thick black lettering over and over again. A ring of coffee still stains the bottom.
An old grocery list in my handwriting.
And the one thing that makes me clutch my chest while I rifle through the pages: an old, tattered copy of Wuthering Heights. When I open the cover, “Liberty Academy” is stamped in faded purple ink.
He took this. I was a child the last time I held this. And if there was any doubt about these items—why they are here and where he got them—my high school photo, curled around the edges and in the center of this small collection, removes all possible uncertainty.
“You found the shrine.” Viktor’s deep voice booms behind me.
I spin around on my heel, still clutching the worn book in my hand. His gaze skates down the length of my body. He loves it when I wear nothing but his tee.
Oh no, buddy. We are not getting sidetracked.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice high-pitched. The hand holding the book trembles slightly.
Viktor shrugs a massive shoulder with not a trace of guilt. “What do you think it is?”
I take a step back and shake my head when he moves toward me. “No, don’t touch me. Don’t come near me, Viktor.” When he ignores me and takes another step forward, I rear back and whip the book at his head as hard as I can throw. He ducks just in time. The old book falls to the floor, loose pages fluttering down like dead leaves from the maples outside.
He advances on me, and before I can stop him, he captures me, his hands on my wrists, and lifts me straight into the air.
“Not now!” I scream at him, clawing at him. “Put me down!” I pound on his back with my fists, but they’re little fluffy snowballs against a glacier. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Viktor!” I scream. “Let me go!”
Despite my best efforts, my heart is pounding, and I’m so fucking wet. I can scream and rail against him, but he’s immovable.
This is him. This is us. My protests only ignite my own need for him. Still, rage courses through my veins, even though I know exactly where this will end up. He’ll either spank me or fuck me or both.