![]() ![]() Unfortunately, Mila wasn’t a handful of rubles or a loaf of bread. I was sure she wouldn’t welcome me anyway, and I’d never begged for a thing in my life-not even as a kid living on the streets. Not to mention, it was futile to do so now, thirty hours before I murdered her papa. I’d already apologized to her once I didn’t have another in me. ![]() The need to go to her room tore at me, but I quelled the impulse. I’d normally be enjoying two fingers of vodka and a cigar after this day, though now all I could see was the heartbroken look on Mila’s face. He was pretty confident the bullet had missed bone, only tearing through muscle. Kirill told me the wound would heal fine after shoving some antibiotics in my hand. I fell into bed over two hours later in my bloody pants and boots. I wondered if that was the exact scene that would play out in less than two days’ time-a glimpse of her yellow hair and a brief meeting of eyes before a gnawing absence set in. ![]() She gave me a fleeting glance in the doorway that tightened my chest, and then she was gone. I didn’t think it was what I wanted either. ![]() Mila hesitated for a second before turning to leave as if it was the last thing she wanted. What was a little self-loathing added to the mix? She took a step back at my words, her complexion paling. “I’m not sure what you’re waiting around here for.” After Series by Anna Todd: A Short Review ![]()
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