Chapter Thirty
LYLA VOZNESENSKY
“He left! He just fucking left! I mean, who does that?! Who just leaves without a word? That’s rude, right?! Don’t you think that’s fucking rude?!”
The blond man lying helplessly on the floor of the dirty basement groaned. His companion—another man with short dark hair and bushy eyebrows—clutched at his bleeding stomach beside him, his face distraught and full of fear.
After I’d taken Cedric to the hospital, I took a walk around town.
He had to stay for a few days to recover.
He’d received several broken ribs, a bruised spine, and internal bleeding.
Apparently, he’d been standing when the blast hit, sending him flying and causing most of his injuries.
Cedric was going to be okay, thank god, but it was imperative that he rest and recuperate.
While taking care of him, I had to put Lukyan out of my mind, as hard as that was to do.
I had to focus on Cedric and get him help as quickly as possible.
But the moment I left the hospital, all those hot, volatile emotions simmering beneath my skin had come bursting out like an erupting volcano.
It just so happened the world was looking out for me because it provided the perfect opportunity for me to vent my frustrations.
I’d stumbled across Dickhead One and Dickhead Two over there trying to rape a woman in an alley as I strolled through town.
I stopped them, and decided they needed a little extra punishment before they met their end.
One of the adjacent buildings just so happened to be abandoned.
So, I’d dragged their pathetic asses down to the basement, and voilà.
“I did so much for him! So much! I saved his fucking life, and he what?! Just abandons me the first chance he gets?! After everything”—I stabbed Bushy Eyebrows in the leg”—“I”—again—“fucking”—again—“did!”
Bushy Eyebrows cried out in pain with each strike I inflicted on him.
“I mean, is it too much to ask for a little goddamn loyalty?! Huh?! Is it?!”
His friend watched on with terrified eyes. “N-no. No, it’s not,” he agreed.
“Thank you!” I ripped out my blade, blood splattering onto my cheek, and flicked my hair out of my face.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to reign in my ever-growing temper.
“Look, I’m not totally unreasonable here.
Of course, I can understand where he’s coming from.
What a difficult position he might have been in.
But to leave without a fucking word?! Nothing?
! Just poof! Fucking gone! You understand, right? You understand why I’m so pissed off?”
Blondie nodded, the movement shaky and fearful. “You have every r-right.”
“I do, don’t I?!” I got to my feet in a huff and started pacing. It was nice, having my feelings validated, even if they were from some asshole rapist.
My boots splashed in the small puddles of water on the cement floor. The air stank of bile and rotten food. It didn’t bother me. I’d long ago become desensitized to peculiar smells.
“I don’t know what to do now. A part of me wants to track him down and drag him back by his fucking hair, but I’m mad at him, you see? He’s the one in the wrong. Not me! He should be the one to come groveling back. I shouldn’t have to go chasing after him, should I?!”
He agreed very quickly, swallowing nervously. “No, you shouldn’t.”
“You’re quite understanding, Bert. Can I call you Bert?”
He frowned. “My name is Lewis.”
I stopped pacing and stared at him.
“Bert is fine,” he amended swiftly.
I nodded, satisfied, and went back to pacing.
“Oh! And another thing! He told me he understood me. That he would still love me if I was a worm, but that clearly wasn’t true because he left the first chance he fucking got!
” I lashed out, kicking an empty wooden crate in frustration. It did nothing to quell my anger.
Bushy Eyebrows began to cry. “Please,” he croaked. “I need—an—ambulance. I’m going to bleed out.”
“And I should care why? Be quiet. Can’t you see I’m trying to sort through my emotions here?!” I swung my leg in a powerful roundhouse kick, his head whipping to the side at the contact. He slumped, passed out.
I moved over to Bert. He shriveled back, pressing himself into the wall behind him as I crouched in front of him.
My arms dangled over my knees, one hand clasping my knife, blood dripping from the blade.
“You’re a guy, Bert. Tell me, is this normal guy behavior?
Straight up abandoning the person they love when it conveniences them? ”
His gaze darted left to right anxiously. “Uh, well, um—”
“It’s a yes or no question, Bert. What’s with all the umming and ahhing?”
“Some men have commitment issues?” he asked, his voice rising slightly with uncertainty.
“Commitment issues?” I sat down and crossed my legs, leaning forward intently. “Tell me more.”
“Well…uh…sometimes, guys can have a problem settling down.”
Interesting. “Why?” I cocked my head. “If they’re soulmates, they should want to settle down with them, right?”
Bert looked around again, as if he wanted to be anywhere but there with me.
I didn’t know why. I was a fucking delight.
“It’s hard to say without knowing the man.
For some, it could be something to do with a past trauma.
Fear of putting themselves in a vulnerable position where they could get hurt again.
Or—” He snapped his mouth shut, and it made me straighten, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Or what?”
Bert shook his head. “I don’t want to answer.”
I stabbed him in the shoulder. He screamed, crying out in pain. Tears started to stream down his face.
“Orrrrr?” I pressed on.
When he shook his head again, I began twisting, slowly rotating the blade deeper into his flesh.
“Ahhh! Or he wants to keep fucking other people! Or he wants to keep fucking other people! God! Stop! Stop!”
I stopped. Not because he asked. Because his words gave me pause.
“No. He wouldn’t do that.”
Would he?
I cursed and yanked out my blade, going right back to pacing. Pacing made me feel better. Bert cried out and clutched at his shoulder painfully. Blood seeped between his fingers.
“He wouldn’t do that,” I said again, this time more to myself than Bert.
“Okay!” Bert yelled. “I don’t even know the guy! If you say he wouldn’t do that, then he wouldn’t do that! Just, please! Stop this! Let me go! I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt that girl. It was an accident—”
I scoffed. “You ‘accidentally’ held her down and tried to stick your cock in her while she kicked and screamed for you to stop? Yeah, sounds about right. Shut the fuck up, or I’ll cut your dick off before I kill you.”
Bert’s lips slammed closed.
Bushy Eyebrows released a pain-filled gasp, and then he stopped breathing.
“Well, he’s dead.” I laughed.
“You’re evil,” Bert spat.
“Rich, coming from you.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I think it’s time you join him.”
“No! No, wait!” His body trembled with fear, and he tried to crawl away.
He wouldn’t get far. I’d severed both their Achilles heels to ensure they wouldn’t be able to escape.
I continued toward him. “Advice! You want advice, right?!” I halted.
My fingers itched around the handle of my blade, eager to slice.
Stab. Kill. “I-I can give you advice,” he rushed out quickly.
“Can you?”
“Yes! Yes, I can! I can—” He choked, spitting out blood. His gaze dropped to the knife I’d just thrown at his chest.
“I don’t need your advice. I just needed someone to vent my frustrations out on.” And he’d delivered to a tee.
Bert whimpered, an almost sad and painful sound falling from his lips before he flopped to the ground. I walked over and pulled my knife from his chest, wiping the blood drenched along the blade on my sleeve before holding it up in the air.
The letters LV were etched into it.
It was Lukyan’s blade—the one I’d taken from his room. Seemed only fitting to kill with it, since he was responsible for my shitty fucking mood.
Killing Dickhead One and Two had made me feel a little better, sure, but not immensely. I was still struggling. Struggling with my thoughts and the idea that I didn’t matter as much to Lukyan as he did to me.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot.
What am I supposed to do now?
You know where he is, a small voice in my mind taunted. Go get him back.
Yes. I did know. He’d be at his grandfather’s estate. Of that, I was sure. But why should I be the one to seek him out? Like I’d said to Bert, I was the one mad at him.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. The security measures at Sergei’s house had been bumped up drastically since I was last there. There was no way I could break in on my own. I’d need help. I’d need—
I groaned, running a hand down my face.
I’d need Lev.
Exhaling heavily and stomping my foot in a, yes, tantrum, I pulled out my phone and dialed his number before I had the chance to talk myself out of it.
“Have you stopped being a brat?” he answered.
“Wha—fuck you! No, wait, Jesus, fuck. Just wait.” I took a deep breath in, trying to center myself. “Hello, Lev.”
“Hello, Lyla. Have you stopped being a brat?”
I growled. “Yes.” I would have asked if he had grown up, but it would have been counterproductive. “I need to talk to you. Where are you?”
“Where are you? I’ll send Kane to collect you.” I sent him the address of the abandoned building, and within thirty minutes, Kane arrived, parking in the alleyway.
“Get in,” he grunted, opening the passenger door from the inside of my motherfucking car.
I did.
He did a sweep of my appearance, but made no comments. I was aware I had blood in my hair and staining my hands. I didn’t give a fuck. Let it be a warning that I was in a pissy mood and liable to fucking snap any second. He handed me a black blindfold. “Put this on.”
Arching an eyebrow, I turned to look at him. “Why?”
“Your brother’s orders. Either you put it on or we don’t go.”