Chapter 38
YELENA
Needless to say, my ability to focus on anything school-related after that is shot. But somehow, I make it through my morning and early afternoon classes. I grab lunch with Wren, who’s back to grumbling about Laz and his “prison rules”.
Then she asks me how things are going with Achilles. I’m not generally one to share smutty details about my personal life. But the second my face turns an interesting shade of crimson, it starts tumbling out.
I don’t give her all the details. God no. But enough that by the time I’m done, I’m crumpled into a little ball of mortification and Wren is almost standing on the table waving her napkin like a flag and declaring me a “freak queen”.
“You know what, though, Freak Queen?”
“What,” I mumble, my cheeks flaming.
I seriously can’t believe I just told her about Achilles chasing me at the cabin the other day.
Wren giggles. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Like…get it, girl.”
“Get what? Commitment papers?”
She laughs. “Hey, it’s not something I ever gravitated toward, Galina’s filthy books notwithstanding. But…damn.” She fans herself. “That sounds seriously hot.”
I grin, biting my lip. “Well…yeah,” I giggle. “Ten out of ten.”
She snorts. “And aside from the smutty romance book level sex? Are you saying this isn’t just a porn-level fuck-fest?”
I groan, burying my face in my hands.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “But it’s really, really good.”
She beams at me before giving me a hug. “You know you deserve this, right? And that’s not me suggesting that you might. I’m telling you.” She gives me a sharp look. “In fact, I’m herewith ordering you to accept that you deserve this.”
I smile widely and salute her. “Aye-aye, captain.”
Part of me wants to sneak back to Achilles’ room as soon as my last class is over at one and wait for him, naked, in his bed. But I do have a meeting with my academic advisor at three-fifteen, and I really should get some studying in. So I head to Ravencroft Library instead.
An hour and a half later, my eyes are blurry from darting between the half dozen textbooks open in front of me, my pages of scrawled notes, and the glow of my laptop.
“I guess now I know why you wouldn’t kiss me the other night.”
I gasp sharply at the sudden voice, jerking my gaze up from my laptop.
Kirill is smiling at me like a shark, the tattoos on his throat shifting as he rolls his neck. He winks at me, sending a flicker through me.
Kirill is, objectively speaking, a very good-looking man.
Like, perfect face, enviable genetics, and the height and build of a professional athlete.
Even the myriad of dark, vicious tattoos snaking across his arms, chest, and up to his jawline are I suppose hot, in that “evil book boyfriend” way that Galina’s always forwarding me TikToks about.
Still, he sort of freaks me out whenever I’m around him. Achilles gives major predator vibes, but they’re personalized: I’m his only prey. He’s a hunter focused exclusively on me.
I don’t get that vibe at all with Kirill. There’s just this lingering, creeping sensation that he might suddenly decide to bite me or…something.
I force a small smile. “I—”
“I think we both know, much as you wanted to,” he purrs, pouring himself into the seat across from me, “you were just worried about what that little boyfriend of yours might think. Or say. Or do.”
Ice ripples up my spine.
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing mine.
My brow furrows. “Secret?”
“That you did want to kiss me.”
My frown deepens. “No offense—”
“No. Don’t say no offense right before you say something offensive. Say the offensive thing boldly.” He smiles icily. “Go ahead. Say it. Skip the preamble.”
I frown. “Okay…” My throat bobs. “Kirill, I had no intention of kissing you the night of that party. Or ever, really.”
His smile widens. “It’s okay, little prey,” he murmurs.
My body snaps rigid, my eyes widening.
“What did you just say?” I croak.
His lips curl dangerously. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that pet name, same as those eminently fuckable lips of yours, only for Achilles to use?”
“What do you want, Kirill?” I say tightly.
He sighs. “Do you know why I asked you to kiss me, Yelena?”
I look away, nervously twisting my fingers in my lap.
“You obviously at least have a theory,” he murmurs quietly. “So why don’t you just say it.” He smiles chillingly again. “I promise, you won’t cause offense.”
The Yelena of a few months ago might have wriggled and writhed on his stupid hook a little longer.
But I’m not her anymore.
“I don’t know, Kirill,” I say flatly. “Maybe because you were drunk and horny, and you’ll fuck anything that—”
I gasp when his palm abruptly slams down on the table.
“It would appear you are able to offend me,” he growls.
“And you’re wrong.” He peers coldly at me.
“I have zero interest in fucking you, Yelena. And believe me, that interest level drops well below zero knowing you’ve been screwing Mr. Golden Boy.
” He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t try to kiss you because I had any interest in getting into your panties.
” Kirill levels a withering look at me. “I did it because I was trying to use you like a pawn.”
I sigh heavily. “Kirill, I have to study.”
“Do you enjoy being a pawn, Yelena?” he growls, ignoring me.
I scowl at him. “I didn’t kiss you, in case you’ve forgotten,” I snap. “Which means I’m not—”
“I didn’t ask you if you enjoyed being my pawn. I asked if you enjoyed being a pawn,” he rumbles, tapping his fingers on the table. “His pawn.”
My brow furrows. “Whose?”
“You know whose.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, whatever this is, I’m done, okay? I need to study, and I’m not playing this game with you.” I should stop right there, but I can’t help myself. “And for the record,” I snap, “I’m not Achilles’ pawn.”
He smiles coldly at me for a few seconds, not saying anything.
Then he takes a slow breath. “Your boyfriend likes to put his hands on people,” he hisses.
“He likes to hit things that don’t belong to him.
” His eyes flicker with manic darkness. “It’s not very nice to hit things that don’t belong to you, don’t you think, Yelena? ”
My brows knit. “Kirill, I don’t know what you’re—”
“At first,” he growls, “I wanted to put a fucking bullet in his brain.”
The library suddenly feels colder. A chilling sensation finger-walks up my spine as Kirill fires a malicious look at me.
“But…” His mouth draws to a cruel line as he reaches into his pocket, pulls his hand back out, and sets a small thumb drive on the table between us. “I think this will be even more fun than watching his gray matter splatter on the ground.”
I look at it, then back at him.
“What the hell is that?”
Kirill just smiles. “That’s a present for you, Yelena.”
“What is it?” I snap.
“Something you’re going to thank me for later,” he growls as he suddenly pushes his chair back and stands. “Even if I did try to use you as a pawn, Yelena,” he murmurs, “it doesn’t mean I have anything against you. In fact, I pity you. Which is why I’m giving you this.”
I scowl at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He cracks his tattooed knuckles and rolls his neck. “You should probably be alone when you watch what’s on that.” His lips pull into another mirthless shark's smile. “And do give my fondest regards to Golden Boy.”
He walks away without looking back. After he’s gone, I shiver as my gaze drops again to the thumb drive sitting on the table.
I pick it up, and for a second, my gaze slides across the room to the trash can near the ancient card catalog.
I should just throw it away. Just forget Kirill even talked to me today.
But the longer I look at it, the more an invisible tug begins to pluck at a loose thread in my subconscious.
Curiosity killed the cat…
Kirill is a snake, and whatever this is, there’s an angle that benefits him.
But not knowing how giving me this thumb drive might benefit him starts to burrow into me. Fester. And pull at my nerves.
Dammit.
It’s probably something gross like pictures of his dick piercing. In which case I’ll just tell Achilles, and then Kirill can reap what he sowed when Achilles breaks his fucking nose.
Just chuck the freaking thing.
I jam the drive into the USB slot of my laptop, then double-tap on the icon that pops up.
A cold feeling drags like a nail down my back when I see the file folder name: “little prey”.
What the fuck.
I scan the folder with antivirus software, because I’m not an idiot and Kirill is Kirill. When it shows as clean, I wet my lips, swallow, and double-click on it.
Hundreds of files suddenly appear in the finder window, a seemingly endless list. Images. PDFs. Web bookmarks. Text documents. Spreadsheets.
What the hell—
My eyes bulge when I open the first image.
The grainy photo looks like it’s been taken from a distance. It’s me here at Knightsblood, walking across the quad in my uniform, a backpack over one shoulder and some books clutched in my arms.
I scroll down, and my confusion mounts when more and more photos of me on campus appear.
Sitting on a bench, reading a book.
Talking with Wren and Arianna in the cafeteria, clearly zeroed in on me.
Out for a run.
In class, taken through the window from outside.
Others of me studying in or walking around my room, also taken through the window.
My face heats at the photo of me wrapped in a towel, brushing my hair in the women’s locker room at Montclair Gymnasium.
For a second, I want to feel horrified. But then, as I navigate back to the first “little prey” folder, a thought hits me.
Is it possible these were taken by Achilles?