Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 393

Chapter 386

Go back?

Mila froze on the steps leading up from the first floor, locking eyes with the blond man standing below her. After a tense moment, she tried speaking English, her voice shaky.

"You..."

Bang!

Before she could finish, another gunshot rang out. The bullet struck the wooden banister beside her, splintering it into sharp fragments that peppered her face and arms, leaving her skin stinging.

She shrank back instinctively, but stopped herself just in time.

She could feel thick, hot fur pressing against her calves-the wolf was right behind her.

That did it. She was trapped.

There was a gun pointing at her from the front, and the man was clearly forcing her to back up. But behind her was the wolf, and she didn't dare make a wrong move. She stayed rooted to the spot until the blond man raised his gun, aiming it directly at her head. His warning this time was unmistakable.

She didn't have a choice.

Mila took another hesitant step backward, bumping into the wolf again. The animal was heavy and solid, blocking her way, and she didn't dare push harder.

Then-

A sharp whistle echoed through the hall, casual and almost mocking.

At the sound, the wolf moved aside, finally giving her room.

out. This one ripped through the hem of her

daring to look back again, she retreated, step by step, until she'd returned to the previous landing. She could hear the wolf padding behind her, following her right into the room she'd come

dare

the sofa, staring at the wolf sprawled across the

Night had fallen completely.

the still-open window, ruffling the black curtains that swayed

sounded

maid entered, carrying a silver bucket. She switched on the lights, and Mila saw the wolf's

silver tray on the table and, using tongs, laid out thick slabs

food immediately, tearing into it with savage bites, blood

such gusto, her own hunger suddenly became

stand for hours, all without a

usually feed their

worry about her

showing no interest in talking to her, Mila

there any dinner

English.

didn't respond. She just stood there with the silver bucket, head bowed, as still and

hadn't heard, Mila asked again, "Could

the maid

remembered the gunman downstairs had spoken Italian, so she fumbled through a halting request in broken Italian, hoping for at least

the maid ignored her once again. Mila understood-she was being

Clearly,

No dinner for her.

eating quickly. Once the maid had cleaned up the blood and removed the tray, the animal curled up again on the cold glass table, let out a loud, satisfied burp, and fixed

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