Page 138 of Bound By Revenge

But he’s lying. I know it. He knows it. And it makes my chest ache.

"Nik, I swear?—“

"Dmitri," he cuts me off. "If she tries to leave, stop her. Disobey me, and I'll shoot you.”

The tension in the room is suffocating. His eyes meet mine, full of anger, but something else flickers there—fear.

"You're un-fucking-believable," I mutter, turning before he can see the sting of that fear etched across my face. "Fine. You win. Just me and a roll of gauze, because apparently that’s all it takes to fix a bullet wound. I’ll get the first aid kit."

I grabthe first aid kit from the bathroom, slamming drawers louder than I need to. My hands shake as I fumble for the gauze, but I force myself to take a deep breath. Calm. Stay calm.

When I return, Dmitri and the others are gone, and Nik’s slouched in the chair, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. The sharp lines of his face are etched with pain, his skin pale underthe streaks of blood. For a moment, I just stand there, clutching the kit, unsure if I’m about to help him or strangle him.

"Move your arm," I mutter, dropping to my knees beside him.

He doesn’t argue this time, just shifts enough for me to peel back the soaked bandage. The wound on his shoulder is deep, ugly, and still bleeding sluggishly. My stomach churns, but I force myself to focus. I press a clean cloth against it, holding firm despite the shaking in my hands. Nik doesn’t flinch, but his body is taut, the tension radiating off him like a live wire.

I clean the wound in silence, trying not to focus on the blood staining my fingers. Nik doesn’t make a sound, but I can feel his pain, the way his body stiffens every time I touch him.

"You think I can get used to this?" I ask quietly, my voice breaking the silence. "Seeing you hurt like this? Thinking every time you walk out that door might be the last?”

His brow furrows, and his gaze flickers to mine, but he doesn’t speak.

"I was nine the first time someone pointed a gun at me," I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "It was a foster dad. A.J. and I had stolen a couple of bucks from his wallet to buy food. He found out and decided we needed to learn a lesson.”

Nik’s body stiffens, but he doesn’t speak.

"He didn’t shoot," I add, staring at my hands. "But he made us think he would. He sat us down on the floor, pointed the gun at our heads, and told us exactly what it’d feel like to die. Exactly what it’d look like." My voice shakes, and I swallow hard. "A.J. cried for hours after that. Me? I just… felt numb."

When I finally look up, Nik’s staring at me, his expression unreadable. I don’t know what I expect him to say, but his silence unnerves me. Scares me.

"That wasn’t the end of it," I continue, my voice trembling. "When I was eleven, we had another foster dad. He drank a lot. One night, A.J. broke a lamp. Not on purpose—she tripped. But it didn’t matter. Our foster dad grabbed her, threw her down, and hit her with the broken base of the lamp until her face was covered in blood.”

Nik’s body goes still, his gaze sharp and focused entirely on me. His hand twitches like he wants to reach for me, but he doesn’t.

"You never told me any of this," he growls, fury like I've never seen before vibrating through him. "His name. Now. Please, Kat." His eyes blaze as he leans forward slightly, ignoring the pain it causes. “He won't live to see tomorrow.”

I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. "I tried to stop him. I jumped on his back, screaming for him to let A.J. go. He threw me into the wall so hard I blacked out. When I woke up, A.J. was sitting there, bleeding, smiling at me like everything was fine. Like it was okay because we were still alive.”

His face hardens, but his eyes soften, filled with something that looks too much like grief. "What happened?”

I swallow hard, blinking back tears. "We ran away the next day. I swore no one would ever hurt us again. And no one did. I made sure of it. But the violence, the blood—it stayed with me. I can’t live like that, Nik. I can’t see you like this and pretend it’s normal. I just… I can’t.”

His shoulders slump, the anger in his face giving way to exhaustion. He exhales slowly, his eyes searching mine. "You think I want this life for you?" he murmurs, his voice rough and uneven. "Knowing it makes you miserable… you think I wouldn’t leave if I could?" He pauses, his jaw tightening as he swallows hard. "I’ve told you before." His voice drops, raw and trembling with emotion. "I live—and die—to make you happy.”

I press fresh gauze against his wound, my chest aching. "I don’t know," I whisper. "I don’t know what you want. But I know what I want. I want you alive. I want you here. With me.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t respond. Then his hand reaches for me, stopping just short of touching. His fingers curl into a fist. "There’s no leaving this, Kat. No quitting. You don’t just walk away from thebratva. There’s no retirement plan for men like me. The only way out is a coffin. There’s no such thing as an ex-pakhan, only a dead one.”

"I became a thief because it was clean. No one had to bleed for me to get what I wanted." I throw away a bloody gauze, tears running down my face. "I hate this. I hate knowing this is your life. And mine.”

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Then, finally, slowly, his hand covers mine, warm and steady. "I can’t lose you," he murmurs. "Even if you hate me for making you stay. I can’t lose you.”

A sob bursts out, and I nod, squeezing his hand. "I’m not leaving you," I whisper. "But we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep hurting each other like this, Nik.”

His thumb brushes my knuckles, a rare softness in his gaze. his voice trembling with rare softness. "I know. We’ll figure it out. I promise. Just… stay. Don’t leave me. Stay with me, and I'll find a way to make this work.”

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You make it sound so simple…”

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