28. Lennie
Lennie
C old. I’m cold.
I don’t know why. It’s the middle of summer and the strange, dilapidated warehouse isn’t blasting air conditioning.
Blurry eyes strain to gain a clear vision. I’m tied to a chair, my hands behind my back, and the first thought that comes to my mind is my mother.
Will my story be a reiteration of hers?
Noises bleed together and I blink at a watery image against a blank wall. It’s a projection of something. My skin crawls when I realize it’s a video of me and Elijah. It’s. . . oh, God.
Elijah told me no one was watching us at the sex club.
But there’s video proof of Elijah fucking me.
I look away at a close up of my face as I shatter.
The camera pans out, only to zoom again on Elijah’s face.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the sounds of slapping flesh and Elijah’s dirty words don’t go away.
I cast my eyes around, noting all the gray pavement.
I’m not pinned in by concrete, though. This place is under construction, with windows yet to be installed and windblown tarps dividing rooms. It whistles, goosebumps flushing my skin.
This isn’t the first floor and my stomach dips at the thought of getting tossed out of one of the open windows.
I’m expecting saw blades and various tools used to interrogate me.
All I get is a disheveled Leopold.
His curly strands stand straight, the blonde darker in the shadows. His eyes are bloodshot and his shirt isn’t buttoned correctly.
On our date, he’d been nothing but stone cold on the flip of a switch.
Whatever measure of cool he had, it’s long gone.
This is an act of desperation and that lack of control is almost worse than if he’d organized it down to the T.
Because an unbalanced psychopath is far worse than a cold clinician.
There’s no telling what moves he’ll try to make.
I’ve never given thought to how I’d react in this scenario.
All the training exercises Mom made us go through are lost on me.
I wasn’t expecting my throat to feel like sandpaper, or my shoulders to hurt from being wrenched back.
I’m amazed I haven’t pissed myself and the clanging of my heart is deep, vibrating in my eardrums.
“I think I’d like to go home now,” I rasp.
Leopold smiles and I hate how boyish it is. This is the smile everyone is taken in by. The mischievous, charming fellow.
I’m so fucked.
“Maybe later,” he says, placatingly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pats me on the head like a toddler.
“I’d like to go home now.” My tone is stronger, my muscles tensing as I try to test my bonds.
His grin grows. “It’s almost time.”
“Almost time?” What is he planning?
“The game changed.” His eyes are empty, yet bright. The thrill of a high. “At first I thought what better way to taunt him than by having you.”
Taunt him?
“I never understood it myself.” He places his hands on his hips, the grin more fiendish than two seconds ago. “But he wanted you and I wanted him, so I had to get you first.”
“A-are you talking about Elijah?” My chest grows tighter.
The projector whirls, the video behind Leopold, zooming in on Elijah as he thrusts into me. The footage freezes, glitching on a close up of Elijah’s raw face.
“He wanted you so I had to have you.”
“W-what?”
This was never about me. It was all because he wanted Elijah.
“What do you want with him?” Oh God. I’m being used as bait.
Leopold shrugs at my question. “At first the game demanded I show him, he’s not untouchable. That I could invade him, like he invaded me. I would get under his skin so badly that he’d never walk a step without my touch.”
What the fuck?
“We’re not all Zimins but that doesn’t mean we aren’t worthy. That our darkest sins aren’t worthy of praise. Having you by my side would be a coupe. He’s wanted you all this time, but I would take you to my bed.”
He reaches a hand out and I try to sway out of his touch. His fingers brush the scar on my left cheek, disgust rippling over my skin.
“He marked you,” Leopold says, running a gentle finger across my scar again.
I curl in on myself. “Everybody could see it. He hoarded you and lurked in the shadows to make sure no other man could touch you. Naturally, since I’d already decided I’d own Elijah one day, I couldn’t help but wonder why he paid such close attention to you even when out of the country and you were at college. ”
This time when he touches my scar, his fingernail scrapes against my skin. “I asked myself, what does Leonora have that I don’t?”
Okay. So he not only wants to destroy Elijah but also fuck him.
Turns out I can’t even get my own stalker to like me.
His fingers drag down my cheek, curling around my neck.
“Then you ran to him. You avoided him all this time and you ran straight toward him. I couldn’t stand you, Leonora.
You didn’t have to love me. I wasn’t asking for that.
But you weren’t supposed to end up in his bed. You were supposed to end up in mine.”
Punctuating each word, his fingers squeeze tighter. I try to rock back, but that only causes him to hold on tighter and I flinch, choking as my lungs struggle.
“That’s when I knew the game changed. You became useful again, a way to keep him close to me.”
Leopold’s rambling doesn’t make sense. He either loves or hates Elijah. The only thing I know for sure is he wants to cause him harm.
“I will kill him,” he promises, leaning down. “And you’ll watch.”
The chair rocks back. For a split second, I worry I’ll fall and hit my head before the chair legs steady out.
He paces in a small circle, enjoying his climactic finish. “I would’ve married you after, Leonora. But I don’t associate with used cunts like yours.”
“That’s odd.”
Every hair on the back of my neck freezes on end.
Elijah cocks a gun right at Leopold’s head. “Considering you’re the biggest used cunt this city’s ever seen.”
Leopold smiles, his eyes gleaming. He steps toward my chair, reaching out for my shoulder.
“Do not touch what’s mine,” Elijah warns.
“I promise you—”Roma appears, gun drawn—“it’s never worth fucking around with my brother’s things.”
Leopold’s laugh is deep and happy. “Thing?” His hand grazes across my shoulders, my skin itching the entire time. “Not love of your life? Not object of affection?”
Elijah smirks. “Are you sad I never wanted to fuck you?”
Roma does a double-take between the pair. “Wait is that what’s going on here?”
Elijah’s smirk grows. His body is completely still like a cat waiting to pounce.
“Leopold Stuart. I never heard of you until you came after the love of my life. But I did my research. Always trying to rub elbows with the right people for the wrong reasons. That’s not a sentiment I’m necessarily against, but no.
. . If you’d grown the courage to ask me for a fuck, I’d have spit on your grave. ”
Could Elijah break Leopold’s heart after I’m untied?
Roma agrees. “That’s a bit harsh.” He frowns. “And a little homophobic.”
Elijah defends his behavior. “Don’t make this into a bigger fuss than it needs to be. I don’t fuck men who plot my demise. It’s never wise to mix business and pleasure.”
“Is that what they taught you at Oxford?” his brother replies.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” A British accent cuts through the air. “Are we shooting the motherfucker or are we not?”
There’s the presence of not just one, but two people behind me. Isolde and Ren. My tears run freely at the realization.
Leopold takes a deep breath, addressing Ren. “Shooting down a Stuart is bad for business.”
“All bets went off the moment you grabbed Boris Akatov’s daughter.”
Leopold smirks. “Hell have no fury?—”
Ren laughs, agreeing. “Like Gia Akatov scorned. You’re damn right.”
“Look you fucking prick,” Isolde says. “You’ve got four guns on you and three options. We take you out now. You walk out and meet with Boris. Or that tiny little brain of yours figures out a way to walk away and never be seen again.”
Elijah takes one step closer. “You should know the only option is the first.”
Liking that option, Isolde pulls back her safety.
Death by firing squad. Everything in me says run or hide, but I’m tied to the chair. Ren places a hand on my shoulder, silently telling me to stay calm. Only she’d have the steady nerves to stare down a bastard with one hand on her gun.
Leopold dismisses them all with a lazy flick of the eye. He turns to me, his gaze dragging over my tear-stained face. “So many people came to play.”
It’s not a game , I want to scream back.
“I have chess pieces too,” Leopold says and from the shadows men appear.
There’s the click of a safety going off and Roma turns so swiftly I’m not sure how he does it. Roma fires a hair after Leopold’s guy. And then it’s an all-out war.
Roma’s guy falls into him and he sidesteps, the body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Another appears and another array of fresh blood splatters his already painted face.
Leopold and Elijah aim for one another, the former barreling toward him. Two masterminds melted down to gunmetal.
I cringe into the chair, my eyes squeezing tight as my shoulders hit my ears. There is no safe or happy place. No amount of therapy prepared me for this display of terror.
Ren takes the chance, using the back of the chair as cover, Isolde beside her. She cuts my zip-tied hands and drags me back.
Leopold trips, the barrel of his gun shaking. It’s pointed at Elijah and his name is on the tip of my tongue when another bullet whizzes by.
Leopold drops to the ground, lifeless. Blood spews into the air before splattering to the concrete floor.
His eyes remain wide open and his body jerks, two, three, four, five times. The bullets peel through him, his body an open cavity at this point.
Adeline stands above him, blood soaking her designer clothes and pale face.
Echo after echo, the bullets ring.
Isolde places a hand on her shoulder, unaffected by both the body and the amount of artillery my sister’s got going.
She’s almost gentle as she slowly pushes on Adeline’s arm, lowering her weapon.
“He’s dead now,” she gently tells my sister and maybe until that moment I thought this was all some fucked up dream.
But the reality is, my baby sister just killed a man.
Adeline stands emotionless, staring down at Leopold.
“Are you okay?” Ren forces me to stand out of the chair. Her head swims in front of me, blocking my view of Ads. Quick, gentle hands run across my shoulder, down my arms, inspecting me.
“Move.” Elijah shoves her aside.
I think she might make a face or roll her eyes, but I’m too overwhelmed.
“I swear to god—”Elijah crushes me to his chest, his body anchoring me to reality as I soak his shirt with tears—“if you ever scare me like that again, Leonora, there will be consequences.”