So Oleg’s alive. I try not to feel disappointment. Despite everything he’s done to us, I have to remember: that’s still Demyen’s father.
Just like, even after everything Greg Everett has done to me, he’s still mine.
“Dem,” I softly say. I can feel how on edge he is; how untethered he’s about to become. “Babe. Look at me.”
Demyen slowly shifts his furious gaze to mine. Like a light switch flipped, he softens enough to at least not terrify me. “I’ll get her back. I swear, Clara. I will bring her back. And I will f*****g kill him.”
His jaw feels rough under my fingers, that five o’clock stubble every bit as dark as his aura. I hold him and stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones to hopefully help him calm a bit more.
“I know,” I breathe. “I know you will. But right now, I don’t need your ra
