Page 72 of Wicked Savage

Her eyes flutter shut as more tears spill down her cheeks. She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her face: the anguish, the plea.

But I can’t stay.

Before I can change my mind, I turn away, every step harder to take.

“Cillian...” Her pained sob cuts through me, and my chest rips in two.

And when she does it for a second time, that’s all it takes. I’m rushing back before I can stop myself, my lips crashing to hers in a desperate, savage kiss—a flickering flame consuming us both until it fades and dies. My hands are everywhere, gripping, pulling her closer, even as my heart screams for me to stop.

But I can’t. I can’t stop touching her. I can’t stop wanting her.

Because the moment I let go, this will all be over. I know it. And so does she.

I grip her hip, clasping her nape with my other hand, her pulse pounding against my touch. And for a moment, I forget who she is and why this is wrong, and I let myself remember why she’s felt right from the moment I first kissed her.

I don’t know where to go from here. How to forget I ever met her. How to live knowing I can’t have her anymore. That someone else will.

My chest tightens, my fist clenched at the small of her back, but I don’t let go, kissing her with a savagery I’ve never felt before. If I don’t stop, then I don’t have to walk away.

Not right now. Not until it’s over.

I don’t know how long I stay there, how long I let myself have what I’m no longer allowed, but soon, it comes to an end. My palms cup her face, her lips skimming mine like she doesn’t want this to end either.

But then the image of my mother, her body scorched, comes crashing back, and I know there’s nothing left for us.

I don’t look back as I walk away, even though her sobs cut through me.

Slipping into my car, I grip the steering wheel like a lifeline. When I glance in the rearview mirror, I see her standing there watching me drive off, her face streaked with tears.

But I can’t stop. I have to keep driving.

Because I’m already gone.

CHAPTER16

DINARA

I’ve losttrack of time, sitting here with my knees drawn to my chest, quietly sobbing in my bed.

The sound of his footsteps as he walked away still lingers in my ears like an unbearable echo, a reminder that he’s gone. Now he’s nothing but a shadow I can’t reach, a dream slipping through my fingers, while all I can do is sit here, broken, feeling the pieces of my heart scatter with every passing second.

I called him, desperate for him to pick up. To say something. To tell me this isn’t really over.

But he didn’t answer. He’s done.

And that realization slices through me, sharp and unforgiving.

Sonya was the one who found me. It felt like hours before she helped me up and guided me to my room. I wanted to fight it, to stay curled on the floor where the pain felt easier to bear, but her presence was like a raft pulling me back to something, anything that wasn’t just the crushing pounding of loss.

She helped me into bed, but the tears never stopped. Not even after my eyelids swelled, after my body shook with the kind of sobs I didn’t know I could make.

It shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does.

And the more I replay those final moments in my head—the way he looked at me, the hesitation in his voice, the cold finality of his words—the more I cry, like I can somehow undo it all. Like maybe if I just cry long enough, he’ll come back. But I know he won’t. He’s already made his choice.

“Din, you’ve gotta eat something,” Natalia says softly, rubbing my back.

I completely forgot she was here. Her touch, warm and soothing, tries to pull me out of my misery. I shake my head, wiping my eyes roughly, but it doesn’t stop the tears from coming.

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