ASYA'S POV
Pathetic.
Weak.
That's exactly how I feel as Pasha carries me back to his apartment.
I can't even bring myself to lift my head. The thought of looking around, of seeing people again, makes panic claw at my chest all over again, so I keep my face buried in the warmth of his neck instead.
I don't understand why he keeps doing this for me.
All I've done since barging into his life is complicate it. Ruin his routines. Create problems he never asked for. Every single day I wait for the moment he finally sits me down and tells me it's time for me to leave.
And when that happens, I don't know what I'll do.
I'm nothing to him. Just some broken girl he took pity on.
But the thought of walking away from him still sends terror flooding through me so violently it makes me shake harder in his arms.
"Let's get you showered," Pasha says quietly as he carries me through the apartment door.
