Chapter 12 #2
“I know it sounds fucked up with the family business being…” She trails off, gesturing around the room with her knife.
Her eyes burn bright with madness. “This!” She shakes her head and scowls at me.
“But it worked for us. And, looks can be deceiving.” She gestures down her body.
“The innocent young girl shit worked like a charm. Fooled you, didn’t I? ”
You sure fucking did.
“Why go home with Adam?” I demand, darting my eyes over every surface of the bedroom on a hunt for Jeremiah’s gun.
“Meh.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I like to fuck and he was easy. Too bad he wasn’t good. Adam talked a big game but only put in a small effort. I had to finish myself off in his bathroom.” Her lips curl into a devious grin. “Liked to hear himself talk, though, and I learned a lot about you.”
I swallow hard but don’t know what to say to her. She’s crazy. You can’t talk to crazy.
Joy, or more like Joyless, takes a couple of steps toward the bed, causing me to tense.
“I’d thought about finding you and gutting you where you stood.
” She cackles. “I wanted to deliver you in pieces to those beautiful madmen. But you weren’t like I thought you’d be.
That changed my plan.” She points down to Jeremiah.
“He was fucking pathetic and gross. So desperate for his brother’s approval.
And what he made you do… What a pig. I did the world a service. No charge for that one.”
“And me,” I say, throat dry and raspy. “How much is my bounty?”
“You’re personal.”
This gets better and better.
“Have you told your uncle you’ve found me?” I ask, mind reeling. “Does Yuri know?”
“No.” She steps onto the bed and over Jeremiah’s body, slowly prowling my way like a bloodthirsty demon.
I take another step back, my hands out in front of me, to defend myself if she decides to fly at me with her knife.
“I wanted to see more about you first, and all the little secrets I learned are delicious.” The grin on her lips is maniacal.
“Where is the girl whose room is down the hall?”
Thud.
There is no flight. Only fight.
I’ll fight to the fucking death.
I cannot let her leave this room alive. Bending low, I retrieve the biggest piece of glass I can find without taking my eyes from the nun bitch.
“I’ll find her,” she taunts in a singsong voice.
“The hell you will. You’re going to die tonight.”
Glee lights up her face, and she pulls Jeremiah’s gun from the back of her jeans.
There’s that damn thing.
Fuck.
She launches herself at me, and her scream is inhuman.
I reach for the arm with the gun and wince when she slashes the knife across my stomach.
It’s not deep, but it instantly burns hot with pain.
Her grip on the gun is tight, and she squeezes off a round that explodes into the ceiling above us.
I manage to tackle her, but she falls against the bathroom door.
It makes a loud cracking sound along the frame, and then the door gives in.
We crash to the floor inside the bathroom.
My panic reaches new heights as I attempt to wrangle the gun from her.
The girl is strong for her size. She strikes me in the side of the head with the gun, hard enough for me to see stars, but I’m able to wrestle it from her grip, sending it flying somewhere toward the bathtub.
“You fucking murdering cunt,” she bellows at me, her hands gripping my throat as she flips me onto my back. The girl is tough, I’ll give her that, but I’m no fucking flower. I’ve been professionally trained and taken down men twice her size.
This bitch is going down.
Images of her being in every room in this house send shivers racing down my spine. Thank fuck Jeremiah and I are the only ones here right now.
Rage, hot and white and violent, bursts through me.
I reach out for anything within my reach.
My hand snags onto the toilet brush holder.
I slam it into her temple, sending her careening away from me.
But she’s quick and clearly finds her knife again.
As painful lava slices across my forearms, I throw them up in defence, the light creeping in from the bedroom allowing me to see the red slits opening up.
She tackles me and I land on my back. Despite being slight in weight, she’s able to pin me, and starts trying to bring the blade down toward the center of my chest. I grip her wrist with both hands and push her back.
She roars and swings out with her other hand, punching me in the ribs.
“You biiitcchh!” I bellow, losing my mind to the frenzy.
I twist my body and sling my elbow toward her face.
The satisfying crunch of her nose breaking gives me the fuel to continue.
I grab a handful of her hair with one hand, slam my fist into her face, and change our positions so I’m straddling her torso.
I reach for the knife and begin prying it from her grip.
“Give it to me,” I cry out.
She whimpers and then starts crying and then laughing. Crazy bitch.
The handle of the knife gives under her hand and slips into mine. I don’t hesitate. Her threat to find the girl whom the room belongs to cannot go unpunished. I slam the blade into her chest cavity using all my weight to plunge it in and all my strength to then yank it out again.
Over and over.
Stab. Spatter.
Stab. Spatter.
Stab. Spatter.
Over and over, I plow the knife into her body.
My arms are shaking and weak, but I don’t relent.
That is, until I don’t have the strength to do it anymore.
I crawl away from her unmoving form, holding the bloody knife in my grip.
I’m unable to look away from her, wondering if she’ll somehow rise from the dead and come for me again.
She doesn’t.
Shit. Shit. Shit
Oh, God.
My mind blurs and reality shifts. I’m confused and cold and so fucking tired.
The early morning sun, peeking in through the bathroom window, is beginning to chase away the shadows in the room. What time is it? How long have I been sitting here staring at the body?
Shaking, I get to my feet and pull on one of Jeremiah’s discarded shirts before grabbing my purse. I walk in a haze to the garage and get into Jeremiah’s car. I left mine on the drive earlier today. My heart thumps like a drum as I pull away from the house and drive on autopilot.
How am I going to explain this to Adam? He’s going to think I killed Jeremiah, and even if he believes it was the nun girl, he will still blame me. It is my fault. I’m so fucked.
I need help.
I need Viktor.
He will know what to do.
No, you need them. They fix things.
I’m trembling as I drive to The Vault. The clock says it’s four am. The club closes at three, but Viktor is always there long after it closes. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I realize it’s empty. Regardless, I jump out of the car and try the back door. It’s locked. No one is here.
Fuck.
I race back to the car and fall into the seat. I can barely dial Viktor’s number because my hands are shaking so badly. He doesn’t answer.
No.
I need help.
Hot tears stream down my bloody cheeks.
What do I do?
Go to them.
With quaking hands, I fumble inside my purse on a hunt for the matchbook. I dial the number of the hotel. As soon as the woman answers, I plead for her to patch me in to the penthouse suite.
“Ma’am,” she says in a bland tone. “I can’t do that.”
“Please,” I cry out. “It’s a family emergency. I need to speak to my husband.” Lies. But I’ll say anything at this point. “We’re hurt.” More lies. The hysteria in my voice is real, though.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Okay, honey. Hold on.”
The phone rings several times, and then Rodion’s rumbly voice answers. “What?”
Hearing his voice is such a relief that I start sobbing. “P-Please, Ro. I need you to help me.”
“Alyona,” he growls, voice sharp with panic. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m in the parking lot at The Vault,” I croak out. “Jeremiah’s dead. Yuri sent someone for me.”
He curses, and I hear him barking at Zahkar, who’s no doubt in the bed with him. “Stay right there, liybimaya. My love. We’re coming for you.”
The line goes dead, but my heart jolts back to life.
They’re coming for me.
They’re coming for me.
They’re coming for me…