Page 108 of Ruined

“Dominic is mine.”

Frank laughed. “He’s playing with you because you’re easy, but Dom needs a man with class. Not some Bratva puppet.”

I grabbed his wrist. He tried to pull back, but I squeezed harder, feeling his bones grind under my grip.

“What the hell—let go of me!”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t even slow down until we were outside in the alley, the cold air biting my skin. I shoved him against the brick wall.

Frank’s face twisted. “Get your hands off?—”

My fist slammed into his gut.

He doubled over, coughing, but I grabbed his collar and hauled him upright.

“You think this is a joke?” I snarled.

Frank grimaced. “You’re making a mistake?—”

“The onlymistakeis you thinking you could come near him again.” I twisted his wrist until he gasped. “You don’t text him. You don’t look at him. You don’t even think about him, you got that?”

“Fuck. Let go!”

“You’re alive right now because you have kids. That’s the only thing keeping me from breaking more than your hand.”

Frank’s eyes widened, his breath hitching.

“Dominic ismine. You so much as breathe near him, and I’ll make sure your kids grow up wondering what happened to Daddy.”

“Jesus. I—I didn’t mean?—”

My fist slammed into his face, snapping his head to the side. He stumbled, blood trickling from his nose. I shoved him against the wall, my fist cocked to strike.

Frank raised his hands.

My fist crashed into his jaw again, and again, until his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

“Get up!”

He didn’t move, just lay there clutching his face. I stepped back, my breathing shallow. The blood on Frank’s face blurred, and suddenly it wasn’t Frank anymore. It was that other man—the one Alexei destroyed while I stood there, too weak to stop it.

Yuri.

The fear in Frank’s eyes mirrored his. The same broken look. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I stumbled back, my hands shaking.

What the fuck had I done?

I turned and bolted, leaving Frank on the ground. The alley spun around me as I stumbled into the street.

Not again.

I gripped the edge of a trash bin, the cold metal grounding me as I doubled over. My breath came in short gasps. Flashes of that night with Alexei came roaring back—the sound of fists hitting flesh, the sickening crack of bone, the way the man’s pleas faded into silence.

And I’d done nothing.

I stumbled into my apartment, kicking the door shut behind me. My chest felt like it was caving in, the panic attack still clawing at my ribs. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Darkness felt safer than what I might see.

My knuckles screamed. They were smeared with blood that didn’t belong to me. I flexed my fingers, wincing as a sharpjolt shot up my arm. Frank’s bloody face flashed in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the image away.