Page 9 of Anton

When I was seven, Mum had taken Louisa and me to the park. On the drive home, I’d begged for ice cream, and Mum said no. In anger, I started to annoy Louisa, Mum glanced back in the mirror about to scold me, and that’s when it happened—a drunk driver ploughed into us. Mum died on impact. Louisa had a broken arm and a head injury, but she recovered. I survived without a scratch, but I couldn’t shake the thought that if Mum hadn’t looked back, maybe things would have been different.

My chest tight from both the workout and the memories crashing over me, I jumped off the treadmill. Running wasn’t enough to burn off the anger surging through me. I needed to hit something. Grabbing my gloves, I headed straight for the punching bag. Each hit was a release of frustration, the bag swaying with every blow. I couldn’t let my frustration out any other way. But even that couldn’t stop the painful memories that pounded through me just as relentlessly as I pounded the bag.

Images of Mum, Louisa, my fiancée—flooded back as my fists connected with the bag, the sound of leather squealing under each punch almost drowning out the voices in my head. Almost. But not quite.

When Mum died, Dad couldn’t cope. He turned to the bottle, neglecting Louisa and me, though he was never abusive. As her older brother, I took on the responsibility for both of us. Thankfully, Ash’s family helped, and Louisa and I spent a lot of time with the Rominovs. Without them, life would’ve been much harder.

Ash, Miki, Marko, Romi, Luca and I created the Bratva Blood Brothers pact. We cut our fingers and merged our blood, pledging to protect each other, our families, and especially our sisters. They thought I didn’t know they only really did it for my benefit—mine and Louisa’s. But whenever we needed anything—whether it was extra food, new clothes, school supplies, or birthday and Christmas presents—the Rominov family and myBratva Blood Brothers were there for us, and I loved them for it. That’s why, even though I wasn’t a part of the Bratva, I was always willing to step up whenever they needed me. Just as they had when I needed them.

With their help, Louisa and I had been doing okay until the last year of school. Louisa got in with the wrong crowd and became distant. She started seeing an older guy behind my back. I tried to make her see that he was bad news, but she wouldn’t listen.

My mind spiralled, anger mixing with helplessness, and I hit the bag harder, my gloves thudding against the worn leather with a dull echo. Sweat ran into my eyes, but I didn’t stop to wipe it away. The more I thought about Louisa’s fall, the more the rage and guilt twisted inside me.

When she’d disappeared, the guys had helped me find her. It had taken several months and when we did, she was already an addict, disillusioned and beaten down, being pimped out by her boyfriend to pay for their next fix. He’d been my first kill. The guys had helped me dispose of the body and we’d brought Louisa home.

Miki’s dad paid for her rehab, and I’d never been prouder when Louisa overcame her addiction and studied graphic design. But just when I thought she’d turned a corner, I found her lifeless in her flat, another overdose victim. I gulped back the sickness in my throat at the memory of her lying on the cold bathroom tiles. A teenager with her whole life ahead of her—a bright star snuffed out too soon. I should’ve checked on her more, but I’d believed her when she said she was fine. That would haunt me forever, just like the thought that I might be responsible for Mum’s death.

Losing Louisa devastated me. The guilt and rage ate at me, and I needed something to channel it into. That’s when I joined the military. But my time there only deepened the weight ofgrief and loss I carried. Losing Elaine, my fiancée, was another crushing reminder of my failure to protect the ones I loved.

Each punch on the bag brought her face to mind—the last time we argued, the last time I saw her alive. She’d defied orders, determined to prove something to me, and she’d paid the price. The investigation cleared me, but the weight of it never left. If I hadn’t been her commanding officer, maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to prove herself. Maybe she’d still be here.

The burden of it all was suffocating. After Elaine, I buried myself in work, joining the SAS, hoping I could somehow outrun the memories. But they followed me, and when Ash called to tell me that his sister, Krissa, had been murdered and they were facing unknown enemies, I took it as a sign. My chosen family needed me, and I needed them. I left the army, returned to the Rominovs, and started DuPont Security—a distraction that only kept me busy, not healed.

Then Marcie happened. I hadn’t expected her—the spark in her eyes, her stubbornness, the smile that lit up my day. She made me feel seen, like I was more than just a broken soldier. I was supposed to protect her from a stalker, see her through the ordeal, and move on. But I couldn’t. Not really.

Clenching my eyes shut, I admitted to myself why I pushed her away. I wasn’t sure I could survive letting another woman into my life, only to lose her. The thought of it… no. I couldn’t risk it.

“Ready to work out some demons?” Jeff smirked, bouncing on the balls of his feet as I approached the mat, his eyes glinting with challenge.

I nodded, stepping forward, adrenaline surging through me. As I dodged a punch, my focus snapped into place. Finally, the distraction I needed. For the next half hour, I was able to push my guilt and worries aside and live in the moment, a place Ilonged to stay but sadly, exhaustion put an end to that and, dripping with sweat, I headed for a shower.

Standing under the cool flow of the water, my chest still heaving, my thoughts returned once more to the woman I’d left lying in bed this morning, wishing, not for the first time, that I could have climbed in beside her.

But that would never happen. Marcie was a risk I couldn’t afford and if I couldn’t be the man she deserved, she was better off without me. Sighing heavily, I knew what had to be done—no more mixed signals, no more holding her close, and definitely no more kissing her.

Sadness gripped me, threatening to pull me to my knees. Even if it tore me apart to walk away and every cell in my body screamed in protest, it was time to let her go, whether I wanted to or not.

CHAPTER 5

MARCIE

A SHORT WHILE LATER – TIME TO LET GO

Afew hours after Anton left, I finally pulled myself out of bed when the door buzzer rang. It was Nick, Derrick’s boyfriend, with all my gifts from the party.

“Hi, Nick. Where’s Derrick?” I asked, giving him air kisses on each cheek.

“Moaning about how everything’s too loud and too bright, while hiding under the covers,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank God I don’t drink—I couldn’t deal with that,” he shuddered dramatically.

“How’s your own hangover?” he asked, holding me at arm’s length and scanning me from top to bottom like an anxious big brother. “You don’t look as bad as I expected,” he added, amusement lacing his voice.

“I look like the bloody walking dead, and you know it,” I grumbled in response, and he laughed.

“Well, at least you enjoyed yourself. And if it’s any consolation, you may look like the walking dead, but Derrick looks like he’s been dead for a week. Smells like it too,” he smirked.

I chuckled. Derrick was always so particular about his appearance and must be feeling pretty awful if he was in that state.

“Do you need anything before I go?” Nick asked. He was such a sweetie, and I was so glad Derrick had found a guy like him.

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