Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Xeniya Morozova
Nika was trying to assemble an IKEA couch and was desperately failing, but she refused to accept my help. My room was across the hall from hers, so I heard a lot of grunting and curses. It was clearly not going well, and every thirty minutes I would pop my head out to see if she needed help.
I was not an expert at assembling a couch, but I was trained to work with guns, build tents, and survive in the wild for things like the Gauntlet. So I would have been far more skilled than she was at building almost anything.
But Nika was stubborn, and she wanted to do it alone. She wanted to prove she could be self-sufficient, which was understandable, given that she was the sheltered Morozov. But it was still utterly maddening.
After about an hour of this, I got up to try to help, and I walked in on my twin brother doing what looked like a handstand.
Nika had called in Ilya for help… which was a choice.
Granted, Ilya was much better with a tool belt than Nika, but he still would never be the person I chose to build anything.
I would ask Maks or Kaz to do it. They were both very good with their hands and could build anything.
But she chose Ilya, who currently had his head under the couch and his legs swung over it. My eyebrows drew together.
“Do you two need any help?” I asked, leaning against the door, my head cocked.
Nika’s head shot up from under the couch. “Not from you.”
“Fine.” I laughed, backing out. “But you should really know that’s not working.” I pointed at the way Ilya was trying to assemble the arm upside down.
“Get out, Xeniya.”
My cackle followed me to my room, where I sat on my bed listening to the drama across the hall.
Oh, it was even better knowing that Ilya was helping, because those two were oil and water on the best days.
Nika was lively and fun and full of energy, while Ilya and I were broody and quiet, but in different ways.
I brooded because I never knew what to say, and I had to hide myself to stay safe. Ilya brooded because he was, in fact, one of the grumpiest people I had ever met. Which was why it was extra hilarious that Nika would rather call the grump to help her.
Twenty minutes later, I came up from the kitchen with a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips in hand. I crunched down on a chip and said, “Are you sure you two don’t need my help?”
“No,” Nika snapped. “Get out.”
“Okay.” I held up the chip bag and one hand in surrender. “But I think you’re assembling it upside down.”
“Shut up, Xen.” Nika glared at me.
I laughed and walked back into my room. After a significant amount of banging, expletives, and even one scream of pain, Ilya appeared in my doorway. “I think we’re going to need your help.”
As I came into the mess, I asked, “Where are the instructions?”
“Nika lost them.”
“Shut up, Ilya.” Nika hit him in the shoulder.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing where she hit him.
Nika glowered at him. “Oh, don’t be a baby.”
“I am not a baby. Take that back.” He threw a bag of screws at her, and she caught it. Nika hadn’t trained with us, but she had her own training and good reflexes.
I scratched my head, examining their mess. “How did you lose them?”
“If I knew that, don’t you think I would have found them already?” Nika snarled.
“Whoa, it was just a question.”
Honestly, it was one I shouldn’t have asked, because Nika misplaced everything all the time.
At this point, I was a professional key-and-wallet finder.
One time, she left her phone on top of her car and drove off.
I called it, and someone had dropped it off at the police station.
And the number of times she had to replace her credit cards and driver’s licenses should be studied.
We now affectionately referred to it as the ADHD tax.
After taking the couch completely apart and studying it, we were able to put it back together successfully. Nika was very helpful because she was good with patterns, but her impulsiveness often made her act before she had all the information.
It had taken her two hours to smash pieces together poorly, but it took all of us—with my help, of course—thirty minutes to assemble it correctly.
The truth was that together, we were just better. We complemented each other perfectly.
“Are you going to come with us to the Delta party tonight, Xen?” Nika asked as she dropped onto her couch and tested it.
I really didn’t want to go to a Delta party because it was Chad’s fraternity, and I didn’t want to see him again or talk to him. But I hadn’t told anyone at Kappa Xi what had happened with Chad, so they would expect me to go with them—especially Abigail, since it was her birthday.
So through a tight smile, I said, “Yes, of course.”
Ilya’s eyes flashed to me, his brow furrowing in concern. Fucking twins. They always knew when something was wrong with their counterpart. I didn’t particularly want to explain, so I mouthed to him, It’s fine.
And five hours later, I was walking into the Delta party with ten of my sorority sisters.
It was okay. I was a mafia badass; I could avoid one stupid guy if I needed to.
Unfortunately, I had absolutely terrible luck because, just as we walked through the door, we ran into Chad and a group of his frat brothers.
I swore under my breath in Russian.
Perfect. Fucking perfect. I plastered a sugar-sweet smile on my face and greeted the group as if nothing had happened between Chad and me five days earlier.
“Oh my God, a keg stand. I’ve always wanted to try one,” my sister squealed and ran out to the backyard. Our sorority sisters followed, and I, too, was about to make my way out when Chad grabbed me by the wrist.
I wanted to rip my hand away, but I needed to be polite and not the mafia bitch who would rip his head off.
“Can I please talk to you?” Chad asked. “I want to apologize.”
“Yes, fine.” I slid a sweet, pliant mask over my features.
Do not have a resting murder face, Xeniya.
He guided me to a couch, sat next to me, and his frat brother walked over and handed us two drinks.
I took mine with a smile. Perhaps I was too used to mafia members treating Morozovs with deference.
I downed the drink almost immediately, so I’d have liquid courage to get through this.
“I am sorry about coming on too strong, Sienna.”
“It’s okay,” I said, but of course it wasn’t. “Really.” I smiled sweetly.
“Oh, good, because I really love having you as a study partner,” he said earnestly, as his frat brother handed me another drink. “I wouldn’t want to lose that.”
“You won’t.”
“Good.” He clapped his hands together while one of his frat brothers said, “Who wants to play King’s Cup?”
Not me. But somehow, I was roped into it.
Halfway through the game, I yawned, and Chad tried to tell me something, but he sounded like he was underwater or like the parents on Peanuts.
I was exhausted, completely wiped, and it was hard to focus on him, which was strange, because I hadn’t done anything remotely taxing today. I wouldn’t classify rebuilding my sister’s couch as taxing.
A bead of sweat rolled down my spine, and I suddenly felt too hot.
I blinked and tried to pay attention to Chad’s face.
He was saying something, but he talked so slowly, like I had turned an audiobook to 0.
5x speed—or honestly 1x, since I usually listened at 2x.
These were not useful thoughts, Xeniya. Pull yourself together.
I wanted to take a remote and speed him up because I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what he was saying.
Blah, blah, something.
My stomach churned, and I felt bile climbing up my throat. I couldn’t tell if the feeling was from drinking too much or from his hand sliding up my thigh and between my legs.
“I feel… sick,” I slurred, stumbling to my feet. “I need the bathroom.”
I staggered away, unsteady on my feet as I tried to make my way through a horde of partygoers. I fell into a door and caught myself by the handle, and the next thing I knew, someone’s hands were around my waist.
“Let me help,” Chad said, steadying me and walking me up the stairs to a bedroom with an en suite bathroom. He guided me to the toilet, where I immediately began to empty the contents of my stomach.
The whole time, he rubbed my back and whispered calming words to me.
“Oh gosh, I am sorry.” My words came out a jumble, and it was getting much harder just to hold myself up and make it into the bowl.
My limbs felt like solid lead, weighted down and impossible to move.
“Something’s wrong.”
“You’re okay.” He rubbed a circle on my back, and I retched again.
Every part of me felt disgusting. A few minutes later, or an hour, I didn’t really know. Chad lifted me up and forced me to gargle mouthwash and spit it out.
“You got vomit on your dress. Let me help you take it off,” he purred, caressing my hair.
“Okay. I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and shut my eyes.
The next thing I knew, my dress was off, and he was carrying me to a bed.
“Here, you need to get some rest.” He petted my hair again, but he wasn’t tucking me under the covers. He was unclasping my bra, allowing my breasts to spill out.
“No,” I whispered, but my cotton-coated mouth barely worked.
Somehow, my underwear had also disappeared, and he was straddling me and spreading open my thighs, his clothing also gone.
My eyes drooped. They were so heavy. Then I felt a sting across my face.
“Wake up,” Chad seethed. “I want you to feel this.” He slapped me again.
“Wha—“ I tried to form the word, as he positioned himself at my entrance. “No.”
But then… nothing happened. I felt nothing. If anything, I felt a massive weight lift off of me.
I blinked hard and forced my eyes open. Someone… no, two people were punching the shit out of Chad. I tried to sit up farther to see more, but I collapsed with a whimper.
His eyes snapped to me, his bloody hand frozen in the air above Chad’s face.
“Sev…” I breathed.
And then his bloody hands were cupping my face.
“Tie him up and keep him alive. We’ll deal with him tomorrow.” Severin’s gaze latched on my failing one, his azure eyes dripping with concern. “I got you, Moy Oduvanchik.”
“I know,” I rasped, and went limp in his arms, darkness consuming me.