Chapter 28
YELENA
I swear, this felt like a good idea at the time.
I was still stunned by seeing Achilles with that fucking girl at a high school party. I was furious, and then even angrier at myself for even being furious. Because, again, what right would I have to be angry?
We’re not a "we".
We don’t have a relationship.
Or…I don’t know. We’ve never really talked about it, aside from little jokes about us “being a secret” since it’s so complicated between our families with the whole ongoing building thing.
But even if there’s never been a set definition to this whatever-it-is…I’m allowed to be angry that he blew me off and then hightailed it to some fucking high school party in the city, right? That he’s there, laughing it up and throwing some girl over his shoulder?
Like he did with me.
My jaw clenches as my head fills with horrible images of him chasing her.
Grabbing her. Pinning her down on the edge of the cliff. Making her scream.
FUCKFUCKFUCK.
I keep trying to tell myself that I'm not jealous. But that quickly morphs to lawyer-level half-truths about how I’m “not jealous, just upset because he blew me off”.
Yep, that’s bullshit.
I’m jealous.
I’m hurt.
It’s pure anarchy at this party. I mean there’s a legit fight club in the corner of the big open-air space with a bonfire roaring in the middle of it.
Bewilderingly, Ari seems fascinated by it, and I swear I saw her cheering or at least pumping her fist in the air when Adrik Volkov was beating the shit out of some poor guy from Para Bellum that I don’t know.
A couple of members of The Reckless drive motorcycles, and a few of those are revving around just outside the ruins of the old fort, adding even more noisy chaos to the thudding rock music.
Given what happened at the club's last party a week ago, it’s insane that this thing is happening tonight. Even more insane that anyone is here, us included.
I glance around, trying to keep track of where my friends are.
Arianna is still staring in almost eager awe at the fights, which is…
weird, but whatever. Lucia is having a grand old time with her new buddies Aaron and Chris, who seem to be a magnet for tattooed alt-girls.
They’re currently introducing Lucia to Luna Komarova, a Bratva princess who is covered in tattoos.
The two girls seem to be hitting it off.
I don't see Galina, but I’m not that worried because she can usually handle herself. Plus her brother Zane is here somewhere, and I assume he’s watching out for her, too.
Finally, I spot Wren.
Shit.
She’s over by the makeshift bar, sitting on a stool with her head half-propped up on one hand while Kirill talks to her.
That doesn’t sit well with me.
Kirill’s been extra weird tonight. Okay, he’s always weird, and I don’t know him that well at all. But he was oddly insistent earlier that I sit on his lap for a picture. Like, aggressively so. Then he wanted me to kiss him.
No thanks.
I mean, the man is tall, built, gorgeous, and looks like pure sin. But still, hard no, even if Achilles is off fucking around with some blonde high school chick.
Apparently, I have a type, and it’s “golden on the outside, inky black on the inside.” And Kirill…isn’t that.
He’s pure venom, through and through.
So I’m not big on him over there, shirtless and schmoozing with a clearly drunk Wren.
He grins when I walk over to insert myself between the two of them.
“Just the girl I was looking for,” he grins, a dark glint in his eyes.
I smile coldly at him. “Exactly how many girls have you said that to tonight?”
“Several,” he says without hesitation.
At least the guy’s honest, I guess?
“And a couple of guys, too…” He frowns and cranes his neck around me to look at Wren again. “Which is why I was asking your friend here about Galina’s delicious-looking brother.”
“Straaaight,” Wren slurs. “Zane is straight as a stick.”
Fuck.
I turn to really look at her. Wren is much drunker than I originally thought. She smiles through me, her eyes unfocused.
“You okay?” I murmur, turning to her.
“She’s great,” Kirill butts in. “So, how straight we talking? Because that boy fuckin' looks like he needs a hard—”
“Can you give me a second with my friend?” I mutter, turning to him.
Kirill smiles. “Sure can.”
“Great.”
He clears his throat. “Trouble in paradise?”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“Like, does the gold flake off if you rub it too hard? I’ve always wondered if he was as inky black inside as I imagine. Care to weigh in there?”
My brow furrows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Not what, who,” he says. “And I think we both know, don’t we, Mrs. Drakos.” When my face pales, he chuckles. “My apologies, I must be drunk. Obviously, I meant Ms. De Luca.”
Kirill’s venomous eyes glint into mine.
“The question remains, though,” he murmurs. “Trouble in paradise?”
I swallow. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a common enough phrase, usually referring to there being a problem within the context of a relationship—”
“What do you want, Kirill?” I hiss.
“Well, for one,” he growls darkly, “I want to know where your fucking cousin is, because he’s supposed to be here, and he’s not.”
He brings a glass that smells like vodka to his lips and takes a heavy sip.
I don’t have to ask which cousin to know he means Jude.
“I truly have no idea where he is,” I say stiffly. “But whatever issue you have with him—”
“Like him drugging my fucking party the other night?”
“I really don’t think Jude would—”
“Then you don't know your cousin as well as I do,” he says flatly. Then he winks. “Actually, I’d bet money on it. If you see him—”
“Leeeeeenaaaa.” I whirl to see Wren staring at me, swaying on her bar stool.
“I don’t know where the fuck my cousin is,” I snap at Kirill. “But I need to deal with my friend, okay?”
He holds his hands up and stands from where he's been leaning against the bar. He knocks back the rest of his drink, then taps the glass on the counter. “Good luck with Goldie, Yelena.”
After he walks away, I immediately turn back to Wren.
“Hey!” I smile gently at her, taking her hand in one of mine and cupping her drooping head with the other. “You feeling okay?”
She just holds up a thumb.
Shit.
“Okay, hang on, hon.” I glance down the bar to where a sophomore who's name I don’t know is playing bartender. “Hey!” I yell at him. “Do you have any bottled water back there?”
He nods and tosses me one. I crack it open as I help Wren lean against the bar. “Okay… Here we go, Wren.”
She frowns and starts to close her eyes.
“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking her. “No sleeping, okay?”
“But I’m tiiiiiired.”
“I know,” I say, glancing around. “We’re going to get you back to bed, okay?”
I try to get her to have some water. But she keeps frowning and pushing it away, saying “no more.”
Fuck.
Finally, I manage to catch Arianna’s eye at the fight ring, and she quickly rushes over.
“Shit,” she hisses when she sees Wren. “We need to get her out of here.”
“Yeah, come on.”
We sling her arms around our necks and help her stand on rubbery legs.
“Okay, hon,” I smile at her half-closed eyes. “We’re going home now, okay?”
She nods, but barely, her eyes falling shut again as she slumps into us.
Fuck, this is bad.
“What happened!?” Lucia blurts as she comes running over.
“What do you think,” Ari mutters darkly.
“Shit, this could be alcohol poisoning, guys,” Lucia says, her face lined with concern. “Let's get her out of here.”
The three of us start to half-drag and half-carry Wren out of The Garrison toward the wooded path that leads back to campus.
“Where’s Galina?!” Arianna frets, looking around.
“I’ll text her.” Lucia yanks her phone out and types. “Okay, she’s on her way.”
We’re a dozen feet outside the main arch of The Garrison when Galina rushes up, out of breath, with branches stuck in her hair.
“Where the hell were you?!” Arianna asks.
I shake my head. “Does it matter?! C’mon, we need to hurry!”
Wren is now unconscious.
The four of us are carrying her down the path when suddenly she starts to spasm.
“Get her down!” Lucia yells. “Roll her onto her side so she doesn’t choke!!”
Panic is roaring in my system as we lower Wren to the ground and roll her onto her side. She starts to vomit, completely out cold.
Then she stops and goes still.
“Wren?!” I drop to my knees and shake her. “WREN!!”
Lucia, who clearly knows what she’s doing, shoves me out of the way and drops down, taking charge.
“Everyone be quiet!” She jams two fingers against Wren’s neck and lowers her ear to Wren’s half-open mouth.
“Her breathing is irregular and her pulse is way slow,” she says in a frightened voice, looking up at us.
My heart drops. “Get her up!” I scream. “Get her the fuck UP!! Someone call—”
“Move.”
Mint, clove, and masculine spice surround me as a huge shape pushes me aside and drops down. Then Achilles lifts Wren in his arms and turns to me.
My breath catches as his piercing dark eyes slice into me, his jaw tight as the black fire behind the golden facade crackles and spits.
“You coming with me?”
I nod.
“Good.”