God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) by Rina Kent

With everything that went down, everyone is exhausted both physically and mentally. We’re pushing ourselves to study and try to heal together.

Papa told me that it might be a good idea to go home and recharge for a bit, but I can’t leave everyone here alone. I’d be worried sick and wouldn’t get any rest.

So I stayed and have tried to be there as much as I can for Glyn and Ava, who were hit by Annika’s departure more than they’ve let on.

Sometimes, they call her name in the flat and either pause or curse themselves when they realize she’s not there anymore.

Most of her stuff is still in her room, and none of us have dared to touch it or even open her door.

When I’m missing her, I like to believe she’s in there listening to Tchaikovsky and practicing ballet.

At the shelter, the other volunteers, technicians, and even Dr. Stephanie miss her like crazy.

She was always the fun and cheerful soul who made sure everyone around her was content.

Now that she’s gone, it’s like she left a dark spot behind.

After telling the staff good night, I step out of the shelter, shoulders drooping and heart so heavy that it weighs me down.

I pause at the corner of the street in search of Ilya.

He’s been following me around ever since that day at the cottage, acting like his boss’s pseudo-stalker.

During the first week everything went down, I was so rattled and worried that I barely paid him any attention.

I lacked the capacity to think straight back then.

After that, I asked him to leave me alone, but he flat-out ignored me and continued his mission of shadowing my every move.

I haven’t met up with Jeremy since that night at the club.

The first week, he was as busy as I was, considering Nikolai got hurt and Annika had to leave.

Then he traveled for a few days, probably to New York.

I only saw him a couple of days before Annika left—the encounter was brief and without any actual conversation.

Despite the dull ache that spreads through me at the reminder of him, I needed the space.

I needed to figure out whether or not I’m willing to try to understand him like Ilya told me that morning. If I’m willing to go down the rabbit hole with him and possibly never get out.

While I still haven’t found the answer to that, one thing’s for sure. I’m a bit hurt by the fact that he disappeared on me.

Not that I’ve gone out of my way to contact him. I haven’t called or texted him.

I haven’t known how after that loaded confession he sent me.

I feel that if I do, if I give in, then I’ll have nothing left of me. That he’ll suck me dry and leave me empty.

My chest gets tighter the longer I look for Ilya and find no sign of him. At my insistence, Ilya had started walking me from the shelter to the flat instead of following from afar.

And even though Ilya is more silent than the night, he was welcome company.

Not to mention a reminder of him.

But tonight, he’s nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he decided that he was done with me, after all, and ordered his guard to stop following me.

That thought should make me joyful, but instead, I’m dragging my feet on the pavement.

It’s all for the best anyway.

Hopefully.

Probably.

I start to pull my earbuds out of my backpack when I spot a shadow under a tree. Leaning against a bike.

A sudden flutter dips in my stomach as I watch him.

Black jeans mold against muscular thighs, a T-shirt outlines his sculpted chest that I know is inked full of tattoos, and a jacket strains against his broad shoulders.

Then, finally, I study his face that’s shadowed by the darkness but still looks no different than that of a warlord who’s on a mission to conquer everything in his path.

Starting with me.

His ankles are crossed, and his finger strokes the surface of his helmet, back and forth, in a controlled rhythm.

It’s him.

The one who’s been plaguing my nightmares more than that wanker Jonah. In a way, I should be thankful, but screw him.

If he thinks I’ll go running to him with open arms, he must not know what he did wrong.

I cut off eye contact, shove the earbuds in my ears, and turn up the music to the max as I march down the empty street.

A few steps later, I’m wrenched back, and I gasp when I see a car speeding a few meters away.

I pull out the earbuds to be greeted by a shout from the driver.

The strong hand on my elbow spins me around so that I’m face-to-face with my savior, who might as well be my tormentor.

His lashes fall like shutters on his dark eyes as he shakes my arm. “What the fuck did I say about tuning out your outside world? Next time, when you cross the road, you look first. Is that understood?”

I flinch as if each word is a whip embedding itself into my skin.

It’s probably because he’s touching me after such a long time. Or because he’s actually here. In person. After I thought I wouldn’t see him again.

Those facts are definitely messing with my head, because I’m resisting the very illogical urge to wrap my arms around him and hug him.

I rotate my elbow, trying to free it from his grip, but I might as well be caught by metal.

His fingers dig into my flesh, firm, unmoving. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“Screw you,” I let out in a charged tone, surprised at the emotions that choke my voice. “You don’t disappear for two weeks, then start ordering me around. Who the hell do you think you are, Jeremy? My owner? My keeper? A toy on your shelf that you believe you can grab when you’re bored? Because I’m not. I try to be strong, but I get hurt, and I feel pain, lots of it. So if you’re going to disappear, do it for good. Stop playing with my feelings!”