Chapter 21
Nikolai
I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
For the past week, Abigail has been a ghost of her former self.
Even though she pretends nothing happened, I see straight through her smiles and carefree demeanor. It’s all a fucking act, and everyone’s falling for it.
I see the terror in her eyes, the tight pull of her features. I can fucking feel her crumbling.
If she thinks I’m going to give up on her, she’s sorely mistaken. I’m giving her the space she asked for, but as soon as she’s recovered from the ordeal of having the shit beaten out of her, I’m chasing her down.
Make no mistake, Abigail Sartori will be mine.
Abigail’s at the back of the studio, running on the treadmill as if she’s attempting to outrun her demons. My gaze drifts over the bruises that are taking their sweet fucking time to heal.
My eyes lower to the long sleeve shirt that’s out of place. She must be dying of the fucking heat. The cargo pants sit loose on her, and there are no signs of her sexy curves.
“Instructor Nikolai,” Paula says, pulling my attention away from Abigail.
Right, the attendees are waiting to hear what they should do today.
I shake my head and clear my throat. “Pair up and spar,” I order before I walk toward Abigail.
She’s so deep in thought, and when I get close enough, I hear her whisper, “Easel. Canvas. Palette. Brush. Paint. Easel. Canvas. Palette. Brush. Paint.”
“Abigail,” I say to pull her out of her thoughts, making sure to keep my tone gentle. She blinks and seems to come out of the daze before she looks at me. “Go paint. It’s too early for you to be back at training.”
She shakes her head as she increases the speed on the treadmill, then mutters, “I’m fine.”
I take a deep breath, so I don’t yank her off the equipment. “You’re pushing too hard.”
Slamming the stop button, she gives me an angry glare. “No, you’re the one pushing. I’m here to train, Instructor Vetrov. Leave me be.”
She walks around me and heads toward the other attendees. “Hawkins,” she snaps. “Let’s spar.”
Over my dead body. I stalk closer and order, “Caspian, get back to sparring with Duarte.”
I take another breath so my voice is calm when I say, “I don’t want to see you in this studio until you’re fully healed. Go get some rest.”
She stares at me for a moment, but there’s no sign of the daring spark that used to light up her eyes. Nodding, she turns around and stalks out.
I walk to the door and watch as she heads toward the armory.
God help me. Every ounce of my being wants to help and comfort her, but she’s shut me out.
For the millionth time since Saturday, worry creeps into my mind, and with every passing hour, it claws chunks out of my heart.
Yes, Abigail was brutally beaten, but I find it hard to believe it’s broken her. She’s stronger than that.
Something else happened. I bet my fucking life on it.
Leaving my studio, I walk down the hallway to where the lessons in torture take place and knock on the door.
Igor, the instructor, glances in my direction. “Can I help?” I gesture to Alek. “I need to speak with Mr. Aslanhov.”
Alek lets out a sigh as he gets up. When he steps into the hallway, I nod toward my uncle’s office that’s not currently in use.
He follows me, and only when I shut the door behind us do I ask, “You found Abigail, right?”
He lifts an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes.” “What did you see?”
Alek stares at me, then shakes his head. “It’s not my place to tell you anything related to Abbie.”
Christ.
My eyes darken on him. “You not telling me will make me assume the worst.”
He shrugs again. “I can’t tell you what and what not to think.”
I let out a harsh breath because I know he won’t talk. If he swore to Abigail to keep quiet, he will take whatever happened to her to his deathbed.
Silence speaks louder than words, though. Abigail wasn’t just beaten. “You may go,” I growl, not happy that I’m still in the dark concerning
the woman I love.
Alek opens the door, then pauses to say, “If you care about Abbie the way I think you do, you’ll be patient with her.”
Patience is not a virtue I possess.
Alek returns to his training, leaving me alone in the office with my worries.
The word ‘rape’ shudders through my mind, but I shut it down, unable to associate such a violent act with Abigail.
No, she’s just traumatized because she was almost killed twice in a matter of a week.
That’s bullshit, and you know it.
“Christ, I hope I’m wrong about what I think happened to her,” I mutter as I walk out of the office.
I’m just about to pass the armory when I decide to check on Abigail.
It’s impossible to stay away from her.
I find her in the shooting range, busy emptying a clip on a target.
I move closer and lean my shoulder against the wall that runs along the back of the stalls.
When she stops to load a new clip into the gun, her head jerks as if she’s trying to shake something off. She clenches her jaw and her hands still as she squeezes her eyes shut.
I watch as my woman fights against whatever demon she’s facing, and unable to stand by while she struggles, I walk to her and pull her into my arms.
She freezes, and I feel her body tense.
“It’s me,” I say so she doesn’t think it’s some random fucker.
Instantly she slumps against my chest, her hand gripping my shirt. She lets me hold her for a while before she pushes away.
Lifting my hand to her bruised face, I gently cup her jaw. “Will you look at me?”
Abigail shakes her head before whispering, “I’m okay.”
Leaning down, I press my forehead to hers, and our eyes lock. “You’re not okay, and I’m not going to watch you break in front of my eyes.” I pull a little back, my love for her pouring into my voice as I say, “I’m here for you, Abigail. I’ll help you in any way I can.”
She takes a step back and removes my hand from her cheek. “I’m just tired. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I tilt my head and stare at her, wishing I could find a way to get through to her. Instead of pushing her, I say, “I’ll give you your space, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
She turns away from me, and picking up the gun, she starts walking toward the armory. I follow her, and only after she’s handed the weapon in does she glance at me. “Thank you, Nikolai, but I’m really okay. It’s just been a shitty two weeks.”
“Take a week off from training and get some rest. Okay?”
Abigail lets out a sigh and nods before she walks out of the armory. I follow her until I reach my studio, then watch her head toward the stairs.
I don’t know what I’ll do if Abigail continues to keep me out of her life.