Page 64 of His Dark Pull
“Harvey– Do you know Michelle Bourne?”
Harvey stops in his tracks, his eyes flicker, the corners of his mouth vibrating. Then he answers, “No—”
He’s lying.But I don’t know what to say. My gaze drifts to the coffee cup, the brown liquid swirling, suddenly repulsive. My stomach churns. The smell of stale cigarettes hangs in the air, mingled with something else, something metallic, and my mind conjures images of those women, their faces etched with fear and pain. I can’t breathe.
“T-thank you, Harvey,”I choke out, wiping away tears with a tissue. Gathering my composure, I take a shaky breath. “So, was that enough to get his confession? To put him away? For a long time?”
He nods, his expression grim but with a hint of satisfaction. “It should be. And it’s not just Dexter going down. We got another one.”
My brow furrows. “Who?”
“Anton Volkov.”He pauses, his eyes hardening. “Turns out he was feeding information to Dexter, helping him orchestrate those robberies. Thought he was just getting a leg up on the competition, but now he’s facing some serious charges of his own.”
I feel dizzybut relieved that Volkov wasn’t the mastermind I’d feared. “What about Alexander?”I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
Harvey’s expression softens a fraction. “He’ll get community service, no prison time. He gave us everything he had on Veles. He’s being released today.”
A shaky breath escapes my lips.Alexander is okay.
Harvey pulls me into a hug. “There, there,”he murmurs, his voice gruff.
* * *
As I step out of the police station and into the blinding sunlight, the world feels off-kilter, like a spinning carousel threatening to toss me off. This isn’t over. The scars run deep, and the healing will be a long journey.
A sense of relief does manage to peek through the cracks of my fractured spirit as I walk. The past few days have been a relentless assault on my sanity and my body.
But before I can escape into the anonymity of the crowd, a familiar voice slices through the noise. Mendel stands before me, a silent sentinel in a black suit.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ava,”he greets with a respectful nod.
A weak smile tugs at my lips. “Hi, Mendel. How are you?”
“I am well, thank you for asking,”he replies. “May I offer you a ride home?”
I hesitate, torn between my need for solitude and the pull of something stronger, something primal that draws me towards Alexander.
“I understand,”Mendel interrupts my internal struggle, “but Alexander insisted I bring you directly to him. He is quite concerned for your well-being.”
Concern. Or possession?The lines blur in my mind, still, I find myself succumbing to the inevitable, stepping into the leather seated car that awaits me. As we drive, I imagine Alexander, waiting, a spider anticipating its prey. I know what awaits me at his home – a world of desire, a dance. And yet, I crave it, crave him, with a hunger that defies reason and logic.
Stepping out of the car, my heart beats fast. He meets me at the door, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he pulls me into his arms, his embrace a possessive claim that both comforts and ignites a spark of passion within me.
His scent, a heady mix of expensive cologne and raw masculinity, draws me in.
The air is charged with a raw, animalistic energy.
We move towards each other as if drawn by an invisible force, our lips meeting in a searing kiss. His hands roam my body, igniting a fire that spreads through me like wildfire down between my legs.
There is only Alexander, his touch, his taste, his dominance that both frightens and thrills me.
Chapter 19
The Forever After
The warmth of the teacup radiates into my palms. Sarah’s home, a haven of lavender-scented candles and soft blankets feels good, familiar. Raindrops tap a melancholic rhythm against the windowpane.
Sarah bustles around me like a mother hen. A fresh cup of tea, her expertise gleaned from her recent learn-your-tea retreat evident in the aroma wafting from the mug. She drapes a fluffy blanket draped over my shoulders, a presses a soft kiss to my forehead. I offer her a tired smile, grateful for her, a lighthouse in the storm that has passed.