Chapter 6 Sera
SERA
I stand under the spray of the shower long past the point where the water is hot. It needles against my sore scalp, slides down the back of my neck, and traces the line of bruises along my ribs.
Images from the past couple of hours flicker behind my eyes in jagged, nauseating flashes—the two men fighting, brick scraping my cheek, the wet thud of a body hitting pavement, the metallic taste of fear.
My breath stutters, and I press my palms to the tile in front of me, dropping my forehead between them.
You survived, I tell myself.
That’s what matters. Isn’t that what my therapist always tells me?
If only it were that easy.
The fact is I killed him.
I’m not sorry, but I still feel... something?
I lower myself until I’m sitting on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chin, and tuck my shaking hands underneath, holding myself together.
The thing that disturbs me the most right now isn’t the dead bodies I helped move, or the near sexual assault and fight for my life. Though none are events I ever want to repeat.
It’s the fact that underneath the panic and the fear, I’d finally felt what I'd been desperately seeking for so long.
For the man whose father I just killed.
I am well and truly fucked up.
Like seriously fucked in the head.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Liev. I know that. I should be searching my soul for remorse over what happened. But it’s not there. I think back to the things I saw my brother do last summer, the stories I’ve heard at work, and suspect I’m wired differently than the average person.
My traitorous body, completely indifferent to every man in its vicinity for almost two years, was very interested sitting in that car with Liev—the tattoos moving on his corded throat when he swallowed, his long fingers flexing on the wheel.
Vowing to protect me in that sexy, lightly accented voice… Even now my body is tingling.
Dr. Swan is going to love this.
Except I can’t tell her.
I can’t tell anyone.
Groaning, I let my head fall back against the tile. Just enough to make a dull thud.
Maybe I can concuss myself into forgetting.
Back to hiding what I feel, I guess. Talking about trauma was fun while it lasted. I wrinkle my lip. Tonight will just have to join the treasure trove of secrets I still haven’t shared in therapy or with anyone else.
Liev’s image appears behind my closed eyes. A rational person would be terrified of him—his size, the tattoos, his lifestyle—but even after everything I’d been through moments before, I hadn’t felt threatened by him after the initial moment when he appeared.
Not really.
I freaking helped him load bodies into the car and drove off with him.
I don’t think it’s just because my brother trusted him and his cousin last summer. Liev and I didn’t exchange a single word that day.
But I’d noticed him.
How could I not? Broad shoulders in a fitted suit, a strong jaw and those mesmerizing eyes. And the tattoos. I’d never cared about ink before. Everyone I work with is covered. But on him… heat pools between my legs.
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
After Finn tattled to Brady about my asking about Liev last summer, my brother made a point of warning me off. Explaining how dangerous Liev and his family are.
But there’s no denying some part of me recognized him as safe tonight even before the rest of my brain cleared the adrenaline fog.
Which is stupid. And dangerous.
And on brand for the disaster that is my personal life.
God.
I kissed him. In a bloody dress after a fight for my life, where I also killed his father. Which is another whole level of insane.
I bang my head again, harder this time.
Why did I do that?
What is wrong with me?
My body has been a frozen, empty void for almost two years. Dead to attraction, dead to desire. Nothing lit up. Nothing moved. Not even when I tried forcing it tonight with vodka. But give me a near-death experience, and my body lights up like a fireworks display.
Maybe it’s a trauma bond? I remember my therapist warning me about them. That I needed to be careful when I form new attachments now.
I’d ask her, but what am I supposed to say? “So, the other night I stabbed a powerful mobster to death with my high heel, and then his son helped me escape and has promised to keep me safe, and my vagina decided he was the greatest thing she’d ever seen. Is that a trauma bond?”
Pretty sure I don’t need to even look it up. Sounds like a textbook definition.
I thunk my head against the tile again. Then, with a resigned sigh, press my palms flat to the floor and force myself upright.
I just need to accept that I’m never going to be normal again. It’s not the end of the world.
Drying myself off, I pull on a pair of sweats and shove the dress and my underwear into one of my small gym bags.
I pause, my hand hovering over the bag.
I left my shoes in Liev’s car. I shake my head. If he can get rid of bodies, he’s capable of disposing of some broken shoes.
And then it hits me.
The heel.
It’s still in the alley.
Should I call Liev? He promised to handle everything. Should I tell him I left it behind? Does it even matter?
My mouth falls open in a horrified gasp.
My phone is still in that alley with my license and credit card stuck to the back.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Should I go back and look for them? What if someone already found them? Turned them in to the lost and found, or worse, what if another one of the bratva finds it and puts it together with the missing men?
My nails claw at my cuticles. What should I do?
Where’s Liev now? What did he do with the bodies? How is he going to explain his father’s death?
Is he safe?
I’m definitely spiraling. But I can’t just sit here not knowing what’s happening. This is my life.
I don’t know what to do. If I wait until morning, I could go into Elite and use our software to find contact info for him. Unless he’s on the regular internet. Probably not. But maybe.
Stop!
Freaking out won’t help.
I take a deep breath and carry the duffel to the front door, dropping it on the floor, before stumbling blindly to my sofa and dropping onto the cushions.
What should I do? My head is pounding, and I have no idea how long I sit there staring into the darkness before I come to a decision.
I have to go back and look for my phone. I can’t leave that up to chance. Even if my phone is password protected, it’s got my freaking identification attached to it. I glance at the clock on my stove. Four a.m. The club should be closed, and with luck, no one will see me.
My stomach is churning, and all I want to do is crawl under my covers and pretend this is a nightmare, but I can’t.
Plucking my car keys off the hook by the door, I key the code into my alarm pad and open the door only to have a large warm palm close over my mouth, sealing my surprised screech inside.
Dark eyes glitter at me in amusement as he propels me backward. Closing the door with his foot, Liev drops his hand and cocks his head.
“Where are you going?”
“What are you doing here?”
Our words overrun each other, and I’m having a hard time catching my breath. But I couldn’t tell you if it’s because he startled me, or if it’s because of his warm body standing so close to mine.
Why does he smell so good?
“Asked you first.”
Taking a step back for my sanity, I look him over. He’s obviously showered and changed since I last saw him. The blood-stained dress shirt and tailored slacks have been replaced with jeans and a dark Henley.
“I lost my phone… in the alley. I need to get it back. It has my—” My words cut off when his hand pulls my phone from his back pocket and holds it out to me.
“Thank God,” I exhale, taking it eagerly.
“Not God, just me. But I’m okay if that’s what you want to call me.” His lips twitch, even as he reaches into his pocket again, pulling out the strap I’d used to secure the phone to my leg. “This is handy.”
I don’t know what to say. Questions swirl in my brain, but the one that pops out first is. “How did you know which apartment was mine?”
His lips move again, almost like he’s trying not to laugh at me. “It’s on your license, Seraphina.”
I groan. “Don’t call me that ridiculous name.”
“Why not? I like it.”
“It’s stupid. Do you know how many times I got made fun of on the first day of school because my mother was going through some sort of spiritual phase while she was pregnant, and she thought I was her miracle to bring my dad back.”
My heart thuds to a stop. I did not just say that. “Thanks for bringing them to me,” I rush on, hoping he lets it go. “I would have been screwed if someone had found them.”
His dark eyes study me for a minute, but he doesn’t press the issue, and my shoulders relax a little.
“No problem.”
“What… what did you do?” I manage, my voice barely carrying. “With… everything.”
“I told you before,” he says quietly, almost gently. “The fewer details you have, the better.”
That tiny, frustrated sting pricks the center of my chest. I hate not knowing, not being in control, but in this case, I suspect he’s right. So, uncharacteristically for me, I don’t argue.
My fingers fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt. “But… you’re okay? With…” I don’t know how to phrase what I want to know.
Something flickers in his eyes, but I can’t identify it. His mouth tips up on one side. “Worried about me?”
“Of course… not.” But I pause too long before getting the last word out, and his eyes burn into mine for a long moment. My stomach twists. Guilt? Embarrassment?
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. He’s essentially a stranger standing in my apartment in the middle of the night. But it doesn’t feel unnatural or intrusive… It just… is.
“Things will be difficult for a while,” he finally says, his gaze roaming the dim interior of my apartment. “Different.”
Guilt punches straight through my ribs. “I really am sorry I messed up your life,” I blurt, feeling my cheeks heat. “I guess I owe you now,” I joke awkwardly, but again... What am I supposed to do in this situation?