Page 128 of Wicked Savage

He stares at me intensely as he pulls up his boxers and pants.

“Thanks for the orgasm, Quinn.” My hand wraps around the cold doorknob. “I’ll see you around.” The words fall from my lips like an echo of someone I used to be.

I start to move, my steps steady, but then I hear him.

“Dinara.” It’s a whisper of my name, the sound of a ghost.

The girl I was—vulnerable, full of hope—would’ve stopped. Would’ve turned. Would’ve let him pull me back in with just that one word. She would’ve crumbled, just like before.

But not me. I don’t hesitate. I don’t falter. I walk away, keeping my eyes forward. I don’t look back. Not even when the twinge in my chest feels like it could tear me open.

Because I’ve grown. Because I’ve learned. And this time, I’m the one who chooses.

CHAPTER33

CILLIAN

My fist crashesinto the punching bag, the sharp impact rattling through my bones like a jolt of electricity. I don’t feel it. The pain in my knuckles is nothing compared to the fire in my chest. The memory of seeing Dinara with Adriano replays in my head over and over again.

Each punch I throw is a desperate attempt to obliterate the image of them together. Him with his arm around her, his face too close to hers, as if he has any fucking right to touch her.

I shouldn't be surprised. I’m the one who left her. Of course she chose to move on, while I sat here all these years wishing I had the chance to make things right, to tell her I’m sorry.

But now, she’s too hurt to ever give me that chance.

She’s gone. Completely gone. And it’s all my damn fault.

But the way she felt in my arms after all this time… It was better than I imagined, until that moment she walked out the door like I meant nothing at all.

Muttering a curse, I hit the bag harder, my fists throbbing with the force of my rage. The burn in my arms doesn't matter. I can't focus on anything but that scene: her in his arms, like she belonged there. It’s all I can see when I close my eyes.

Dinara is mine. She’s all mine.

I tell myself to calm down. Killing Adriano wouldn’t be smart. It would start a war with the Italians, and with Gio married to Iseult, it would fuck everything up. The Marinos are family now, and they’d be stuck in the middle.

My mind knows that. But the part of me that’s consumed with rage—the part of me that still cares for Dinara—doesn’t give a damn about family.

I should call Adriano and talk to him, man to man. Tell him she’s mine. But if he’s been with her all this time, if he’s had her in his life the way I used to, he won’t just let her go. I know that. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t.

My punches get faster, harder, until the bag seems to blur in front of me.

I’ve never felt this fucking shattered. I’m falling apart. I waited all this time to find her, but all I did was lose her all over again.

“Looking to break your hand?” Fionn’s voice cuts through the noise in my head.

I don’t turn around. I just punch the bag again, my teeth gritted.

“Fuck off.”

“That was some party, huh?”

Why is he still talking?

I don’t answer him, just keep swinging.

But he doesn't stop. “You two disappeared for a while. How did that go?”

I stop mid-punch and whip around to face him, my temper flaring. “How thehelldo you think it went?”

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