Page 117 of Wicked Savage

CILLIAN

TWO YEARS LATER

Two years.Two fucking years, she’s been gone.

At first, I spent them trying to forget her—trying to bury her name in the back of my mind—but it was like trying to drown a fire with gasoline. Every time I thought I was done, that I could forget her, it burned brighter, hotter. The obsession, the pain…it never left. It only grew stronger.

I tried everything. Every method, every distraction, every damn trick in the book. But nothing worked, and soon I gave up on the idea of ever forgetting her. Instead, I embraced the fire and let it burn me whole.

I searched for her relentlessly, but nothing ever led me to wherever she was. And here I am: still stuck, still lost, with nothing to show for it but the ashes.

Her phone’s GPS is wiped clean. I’ve traced every number, every connection. Her friends, her family, even her damn bodyguards. But it’s all dead ends. It’s as if she’s completely vanished, erased from the world.

I know she’s out there, though. I can feel it in my gut. But the woman who used to be my everything is now nothing more than a shadow, fading from me no matter how tightly I hold on.

I sit in the dark, the low hum of New York City outside my penthouse window doing nothing to soothe the fire raging inside me. If anything, it only intensifies it, reminding me of the days we spent here, when everything felt possible. When we were still alive in a world that was ours.

My hands are clenched tight around my phone, wondering where the hell she is and when I’ll finally see her again.

Konstantin? He’s been a dead end too. Not that I would ever ask him about her. But I’ve tried following him, and he hasn’t led me to her either.

Where are you, leannan? Where the hell have you disappeared to?

I don’t need to know where she’s hiding; I just need to know that she’s alive. That’s all.

Fuck, who am I kidding? I just want to see her again. To touch her and hold her. But she’s slipped through my damn fingers.

And here I am, staring at her picture on my phone, cursing the day I let her walk out of my life, even while knowing I couldn’t have her. It’s a sick game my mind plays with me: toying with me until I break.

I should be relieved. I should be happy. But there’s nothing but emptiness.

I feel like a fucking liar. A coward too. I was the one who pushed her away, who told her that it couldn’t work, that it would never work. I told her I couldn’t be the man she needed. But it’s been two years, and the only thing I feel is regret.

I want to know what she’s doing. I want to know if she’s moved on. If she’s found someone else. If she’s happy.

Without me.

But I don’t want her to be damn happy, because all I’ve ever wanted is to be the one to give her that.

As I swipe through the old photos of us, it’s almost like a different life. The way she used to laugh at my dumb jokes. The way she’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

But I’ve burned that bridge. I know that.

The storm outside picks up, rain slapping against the glass, and I can’t sit still anymore. I stand up, running my hand through my hair, pacing the length of the den like a caged animal, desperate to escape the thoughts that have been eating away at me.

What the hell am I doing?

I should’ve let her go completely. I should’ve erased her from my mind, just like I told myself I would.

But I couldn’t. No matter what I told her, no matter how many times I convinced her that it was for the best, I still want her.

She’s still the one. The only one.

I slam my fist into the wall, the pain sharp, but it does nothing to dull the ache that’s been there for these years. Nothing can make this go away. Not all the money in the world. Not all the women who’ve tried to get my attention, only to be disappointed.

Because no matter how hard I try to forget, no matter how many distractions I throw myself into, her memory is always there.She’salways there, haunting me, like a ghost that won’t let go.

And maybe this is exactly what I need. This pain. This brutal realization that no matter how hard I fought it, how many times I tried to move on, she’s the one. Always has been. Always will be.

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