Page 50 of Dice & Dekes

Of course he trails off. That’s all he’s been doing. Trailing. Pulling away. Letting me fill in the blanks and hoping I’ll still be there when he decides to come back.

How dare he have the gall to act like I’m the one who hurt him? I’ve been sitting here all day alone. No texts that said where he was. No effort to reassure me. Just vague silence and the hope that my body would forgive what his mouth wouldn’t admit.

I’m not mad because I didn’t know where he was.

I’m mad because he didn’t want me to be there with him.

“Have you heard from Dante about the annulment?” I ask.

Viktor sucks in a breath. His hands, resting on his thighs, bunch into fists. What the fuck? He got what he wanted. We fucked. He can check me off on his to-do list, carve a notch in his bedpost, whatever. My eyes burn. I’mthisclose to bursting into tears, but I refuse to show him any more of my weak points. Clearly, that was a mistake. Anger is the only emotion I can show him that won’t end in me getting my heart broken all over again.

“About that,” he says. “Technically, the marriage is now consummated. I don’t think we can get an annulment.”

I shift on the cushions. “Cool. Then we’ll get a divorce.”

The second I say it, I want to take it back. But I can’t. The armor’s on now, and I don’t know how to remove it without bleeding out.

I don’t reach down and take his peace offering. I don’t feel like eating anything. Fortunately, I don’t feel like crying, either.

I’m numb.

I used to think numb was better than broken. That silence was better than the sound of something shattering. But sitting here in Viktor’s condo, staring at the bag of food he brought just for me, I’m starting to realize the worst feeling in the world isn’t heartbreak.

But sitting here in Viktor’s condo, staring at the bag of food he brought just for me, I’m starting to realize the worst feeling in the world isn’t heartbreak.

It’s hope, dying slow.

Viktor’s quiet for a long beat. Then he stands with a low sigh and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go review game footage for a while. Let you have some space.”

He hesitates like he wants to say something else—but doesn’t. Just gathers up the silence between us like it’s his own burden to carry and disappears down the hall toward his office, the sound of the door clicking shut way too final for a guy who swore he wanted to fight for me.

The couch is too soft. The room is too quiet. I tell myself I’m just going to close my eyes for a second and scroll TikTok until my brain shuts off—but somewhere between doomscrolling and disappointment, sleep sneaks in like a thief.

The dream finds me right away. It’s always the same.

I’m back in the helicopter.

It’s loud. Disorienting. The world outside blurs by in streaks of sand and smoke, rotors slicing the sky as static buzzes in my ear. I hear shouting—someone’s yelling my name—but all I can see is Mick. He’s on the floor. His head—

Oh, God.

His helmet is cracked. His eyes are open, but barely. There’s blood on the floor. So much blood.

I drop to my knees beside him. “Mick. Stay with me, baby. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He smiles. Smiles. His mouth is red at the edges. “Hey, Knova,” he says, voice all breath, no strength. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I whisper. I press my hands to his chest, desperate to stop the bleeding, to fix something I know deep down can’t be fixed. “You don’t get to leave me. Not like this.”

His gaze flits toward me, soft. “You’ve still got so much to do.”

“I’m not doing any of it without you.”

“Yes, you will.” His voice is thinner now. “You’ve always known when to let go.”

“I haven’t,” I whisper. “I don’t. Not now. Not ever.”

He exhales, and something inside him goes with it.

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