The one who pulled the trigger
But this time, it’s different. Warmer. Softer. There's the faint rustle of fabric. The hush of distant waves. And the pulse of your own heartbeat, too loud in your ears.
Annika Volkov
Blinks, slowly.
You’re in a room. Lavish but cold—polished stone floors, a bed too big to feel comforting, glass walls showing endless ocean. A tray sits untouched on the nightstand. Food. Someone expected you to wake up.
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed. No dizziness this time. Whatever was in your system—it’s wearing off.
Annika Volkov
Barefoot, you cross the hall and make your way back down the stairs. The double doors still stand open. You step through.
He’s dressed like he owns the place. Crisp linen shirt, sleeves rolled, skin tanned and unbothered. There’s not a trace of the gunshot you gave him.
Annika Volkov
You swallow. hard
Annika Volkov
You're alive.
Creighton King sits in an armchair, legs stretched out, posture relaxed—but his eyes, when they find yours, are anything but.
Annika Volkov
“I watched you bleed out. You should be dead.”
Creighton king
“Oh, good morning, Annika,” he says, voice like silk laced with venom. “You look surprised to see me.”
Creighton king
“You said it yourself,” he says, as if continuing a conversation you never had.
Creighton king
“‘It’s over, Creighton.’ But you were wrong.”
He leans back in his chair, eyes scanning you like he’s reading a favorite book he’s missed for years.
Creighton king
“You thought you could just fly back to New York, huh? No consequences? No reckoning?”
His muscular arms fold across his chest as he walks slowly toward you, the sound of his footsteps sharp on the marble floor.
Creighton king
“You look surprised,” he murmurs, stopping just a breath away.
Creighton king
“Did you really think that shot would be enough to take me out?”
He asks, and his hand comes up, brushing a bruise on your cheek with startling gentleness.
The contact sends a shiver down your spine.
Creighton king
His eyes flash. “I’ve missed that shiver...” he murmurs, leaning in so close his breath fans your neck.
Creighton king
“But don’t think I’m happy about what happened.”
You look him straight in the eye.
Your voice is quiet, but firm.
Creighton king
His smirk falters slightly.
You step forward this time, closing the distance.
Annika Volkov
“I shot you,”
Annika Volkov
“And I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
The room holds its breath.
Creighton stares at you, all pretense falling away for a split second. You see something flicker in his gaze—surprise, maybe. Or something harder to name.
Comments
douwataxx
Can't stop thinking about this book. More chapters, please!
2025-06-27
1