Chapter 4 #3
Evelina would typically have also gone to Knightsblood too. It's kinda where you go when your family is mafia royalty. But when she got into the Zakharova Ballet due to her exceptional talent, not even Papa could say no.
I’ve tried putting a bug in her ear about moving out—I mean, she is twenty-one. She could even move in with me if the idea of living on her own didn’t appeal. But she always deflects the question.
Honestly, I think she likes staying here and sleeping in the same bedroom she’s slept in her whole life, even if it does mean sharing a house with our father. And it’s not like living under this roof puts any cramps in her dating life.
She doesn’t have one.
Part of me wishes I could claim that my “scary big brother” energy sends the boys running for the hills.
But it’s not me. It’s her being at times almost disturbingly innocent about the world mixed with what I’m pretty sure is a complete disinterest in dating.
Or maybe she’s just an old-fashioned girl waiting for Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet.
In the meantime, though? No complaints here. It saves me the trouble of having to murder any fuckhead who hurts her, and I certainly sleep better at night knowing she’s not trying to navigate the creeps, weirdos, and predators of New York City.
While I wait for her to finish her shower, I cross the room and slump down into her high-backed reading chair in the corner, little string lights framing the shelves and shelves of books.
My brows knit as I look down at my hands and pick idly at a cuticle.
Tell her. Just fucking tell her.
My sister and I are close. We can, and often do, tell each other anything and everything. Well, not everything, I guess. But lately, as the storm inside me has become harder to ignore, and as the weakness in me has grown… I’ve started to wonder about talking to her about it.
Maybe.
I don’t know.
I exhale. I don’t even have the words to describe that…thing inside me. The thing I can normally bury down deep and ignore so well, but which came roaring back from the shadows with a vengeance last night.
…When he pinned me down.
When he touched me.
When I felt the heat of his body and the throb of his—
I grimace.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Yeah, there’s no way I can talk to anyone about this. Not even Evie.
Instead, I exhale deeply and try to change my mind’s focus. I glance over at the end table beside the chair and grin as my brows raise.
My my my, Evelina Nikitin…
I snort as I pick up the paperback with the black and white shot of a shirtless hunk on the cover. He's giving a look that either means he wants to fuck you, or else is holding in a fart. Can’t quite tell.
But the book promises “out of control spice”, “CNC dark romance at its finest”—whatever the fuck that means—and has a sticker proudly proclaiming “Best of Booktok” on it.
I grin, trying to come up with the best possible way to let it slip to my sister that I’ve just discovered her taste in romance books, when her phone near the book lights up, catching my attention.
It’s unlocked and open to website that I don’t recognize…or is it an app? The screen blinks again, followed by a soft chime.
I know I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business. But, I mean, prying into your kid sister’s private life is kinda a big brother’s job, right?
For a second, when I pick up the phone, I’m not sure what I’m looking at. The page says “Club Venom” at the top, with a logo of a coiled red viper. Beneath that, two little icons are illuminated, with text next to them.
Member Status: Signed In.
Profile: Active.
I start to scroll down, and my jaw goes tight as a wire.
What the…
For a second, I thought this might be some new dance club or something. But as my eyes scan the page, I realize Club Venom isn’t a bar.
…It's a fucking sex club.
One that caters in particular to “darker, more taboo kinks” and then lists shit like “BDSM, power-play, impact play, sensory deprivation, bondage, D/s,” and more.
What the fuck are primal play and CNC?
The screen dings again with that little soft chime. My gaze jumps to the top corner of the screen, where there’s now a blinking speech bubble icon and the words “new DM.”
This is really where I should put down the fucking phone, forget everything I saw, and go drink until I can pretend this never happened.
I don’t.
Instead, I click on the DM icon, and a message thread pops up between “HeartofDarkness” and “PrincessBabyxoxo”.
My blood turns to ice as I start to read.
HeartofDarkness
I’m free tonight.
PrincessBabyxoxo
OK. I can be too.
HeartofDarkness
Can, or fucking WILL.
PrincessBabyxoxo
Will. Sorry.
PrincessBabyxoxo
Sir.
Red mist clouds my vision as I stare open-mouthed at the screen. My brain can’t quite accept that my baby sister is having this conversation with someone.
HeartofDarkness
To be clear, when we meet, per your request, I’m going to be rough. I’m going to pin you to the ground, tie you up, and fuck you like the slut you are.
I almost hurl the phone through the fucking wall. Pure, animalistic rage explodes through my system, seeing this motherfucker call my sister that.
Correction: this dead motherfucker.
HeartofDarkness
Your safe word is fire. Don’t forget it.
PrincessBabyxoxo
I won’t, I promise.
PrincessBabyxoxo
I’m so excited for this!
HeartofDarkness
Meet me here. Nine pm. Don’t forget the mask.
The dead motherfucker's sent her an address with a map pin to some goddamn state park about half an hour north of the city.
He wants my fucking sister to meet him, at night, in the fucking woods, so he can…?!
My eyes squeeze tightly shut as my hands ball to iron fists.
My evening plans have just changed, to murder.
I pull out my phone and take a picture of Evie’s screen, saving the address. Then I send a message back, as her.
PrincessBabyxoxo
I’ll be there.
Then I delete the conversation, block the dead motherfucker, and navigate to her user profile. In the privacy submenu there’s a switch that toggles between “profile: public and searchable” and “profile: hidden”.
I switch it from “public and searchable” to “hidden”.
Pure wrath rages through my veins as I stand from chair and cross the room to the bathroom. The water is off when I rap my knuckles against the door.
“Evie.”
“Hey!” she calls back from the other side. “Gimme a minute to—”
“I gotta run. Something came up.”
Something as in straight-up murdering the dead motherfucker you’ve been insane enough to be talking to on the internet, who you were going to fucking MEET in the goddamn woods.
Like I said, Evelina is maybe a little too innocent for this world. Too trusting. Too good. That’s why I’ve always been such an overprotective brother: to make sure creeps like this asshole stay the fuck away from her.
Seems I’ve let myself slip a little bit. Tonight, I’ll be fixing that.
“Aww, c’mon! Just one sec!”
But I can’t. Not just because I have to go bury someone in a shallow grave after I hack off their dick. After what I just read, I’m not sure I can even look my sister in the eye again.
What the actual fuck were you doing on that site, Evelina?
“Sorry!” I call through the door. “I really have to go. We’ll catch up soon.”
Evie groans. “Fiiiine. You owe me, though.”
At some point, she and I are going to have a very serious chat about all this.
But for now…
It’s murder time.