The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 475

Chapter 475

Mikhail’s POV

The words hang in the air, declaring his stubborn sense of duty.

I watch, my own resolve hardening into a knot of dread, as Mikhail swings his legs slowly, painfully, over the side of the hospital bed. Every movement is careful, deliberate. He winces as he reaches for his coat, struggling to get his injured arm into the sleeve.

This is insanity. “I’m coming with you,”

I say sternly, deliberately leaving no room for argument. If he tears his stitches or gets himself killed in some bar brawl, explaining it to Mr. Smith will be the least of my problems. The guilt would be its own prison.

He doesn’t object. Just gives a tight, pained nod.

I drive, the city lights blurring past the windshield. He sits rigid in the passenger seat, one hand pressed lightly to his side. The tension in the car is a physical thing.

The Gilded Cage lives up to its notorious reputation even from the outside–pulsating bass leaks from the doors, and line 84:08

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“Sorry, man,” Liam mutters, clapping a hand on Mikhail’s good shoulder. “I had no other play. She wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Let’s just get her,” Mikhail grinds out.

Liam leads the way, pushing through the dense, perfumed crowd at the door. Inside, it’s sensory assault. Strobe lights cut through a haze of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, the bassline throbbing in my chest cavity. I have to squint, my eyes struggling to adjust.

Liam knows where to go. He plows through the dancing bodies toward a raised VIP section. And there she is.

Vicky. Standing on a plush velvet couch, a half–empty beer bottle held aloft like a trophy. Her head is thrown back, her body moving with a reckless, drunken abandon. She’s the center of a lurid spotlight. A ring of men clusters around the couch, their gazes not on her face but crawling over her body, their expressions a mix of hunger and derision. It’s a predator’s circle.

Liam sees it too. His face darkens with a fury I’ve never seen on him. “VICKY! Get down from there!” he bellows over the music.

She freezes, spots him, and her face twists into defiance. “Why should I? I’m having fun!” she shouts back.

I stay close to Mikhail’s elbow, a silent shadow. Vicky’s eyes land 2ne, and something ugly flashes in them. In a blatant, pathetis

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The man she’s clinging to scowls, shoving Liam’s reaching hand away. “Hey, back off! She’s having a good time. She doesn’t wanna leave with you.”

“I’m her brother!” Liam snarls.

The man laughs, a nasty, wet sound. “Her brother? Well, I’m her brother too, tonight. Be a good brother and let your sister live a little.”

The man’s hand, which had been on Vicky’s waist, slides higher, cupping her thigh. That’s the line.

Mikhail, who has been a statue of simmering anger, moves. It’s not a dramatic lunge. It’s a cold, efficient step forward. In one fluid motion, he pulls his gun from his waistband and presses the muzzle squarely into the man’s sternum.

The music doesn’t stop, but the little bubble around us goes

dead silent.

“Get lost,” Mikhail says. His voice is low, absolutely flat. It’s more terrifying than any shout.

The man’s bravado evaporates. His eyes bug out, fixed on the gun. He stumbles back, hands raised, mumbling apologies. before melting into the crowd.,

Vicky is furious, her moment ruined. She opens her mouth, 00:08

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“Get down.”

She shrinks. All the fight drains out of her. Miserably, she clambers off the couch.

Outside, the cold night air is a shock. She yanks her arm from Mikhail’s grip. “Who do you think you are?” she shrieks, her voice raw. The music still pounds from inside. “You don’t want me, so why do you care who I drink with? Why are you even here?”

Mikhail’s jaw is a hard line. “You’re an adult, Vicky. Do you have any idea what those men were thinking in there? I could walk away and not lose a minute’s sleep. It’s your brother who’s worried sick. He called me. Do you think I wanted to come?”

Tears flood her eyes, spilling over. “Then leave!”

The explosion of violence is so sudden it’s almost abstract. The bar door bursts open. A group of men, one of them the leering guy from inside, now fueled by liquid courage and humiliation, pour out. The leader doesn’t hesiRennet. He swings a beer bottle in a wide, vicious arc aimed directly at the back of Mikhail’s

head.

“AH!” The gasp tears from my throat.

Vicky stumbles back, hands flying to her mouth.

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< Chapter 475

“Get down.”

She shrinks. All the fight drains out of her. Miserably, she clambers off the couch.

Outside, the cold night air is a shock. She yanks her arm from Mikhail’s grip. “Who do you think you are?” she shrieks, her voice raw. The music still pounds from inside. “You don’t want me, so why do you care who I drink with? Why are you even here?”

Mikhail’s jaw is a hard line. “You’re an adult, Vicky. Do you have any idea what those men were thinking in there? I could walk away and not lose a minute’s sleep. It’s your brother who’s worried sick. He called me. Do you think I wanted to come?”

od her eyes, spilling over. “Then leave!”

losion of violence is so sudden it’s almost abstract. The r bursts open. A group of men, one of them the leering m inside, now fueled by liquid courage and humiliation, out. The leader doesn’t hesiRennet. He swings a beer bottle vide, vicious arc aimed directly at the back of Mikhail’s

H!” The gasp tears from my throat.

Vicky stumbles back, hands flying to her mouth.

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