Chapter 18
Alexei
Iscratch the side of my head with the tip of the gun, then drop my hand and click my tongue. “Just tell me the name of the retired detective, and I’ll kill you quick. I’ve got other plans today.”
Three men sit slumped in the chairs with arms yanked behind their backs and ankles duct-taped to the legs. I’ve worked them over good for the past hour. I’m bored now.
I know something’s wrong with Kelly. Something happened to him, and he won’t tell me.
I still catch him flinching, still see him shrink when he thinks he’s in trouble. He doesn’t trust me with it. That hurts more than getting shot did. But I’ll wait. However long he needs. Even if it kills me.
These Nozares rats in front of me just happen to be on my father’s list so I’m multitasking.
“We don’t know anything,” one of them blurts.
“We don’t have names for you. All we know is someone’s been giving up locations, tipping off raids before they happen.”
I sigh and roll my neck to work out the tension. “See, why didn’t you say that an hour ago? You could’ve kept your fingers, maybe even a toe or two.”
“Please,” another one begs, voice hoarse from screaming.
“We told you everything.”
I open my mouth to answer, but stop when my phone buzzes. I check the screen and see Kelly’s name.
I push myself up slowly and look down at them. “Here’s how this is going to go. I’m going to answer this phone. You’re going to stay silent. If I hear anything, I swear to God I will make your death a fucking art piece. You understand?”
One of them lets out a pathetic whimper, so I raise my eyebrows at him. His mouth snaps shut, and he stares at the floor.
I drop into the chair, lean back, and rest the gun on my thigh, then put the phone to my ear.
“Zaychik.”
He clears his throat. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. Just a terrible day, and my boss isn’t helping.”
“What’s his name?”
One of the men shifts in his chair. I lift the gun slightly without looking away from his face. He freezes.
“Nice try. I know exactly what you’re doing, and I’m not telling you.”
He could list every person who’s ever annoyed him. I’d handle every single one of them without blinking. But fine.
“How was your day at the office?” he asks, trying to change the subject.
“Productive. Had those client meetings we discussed.”
Then it starts. One of the bastards in front of me starts whimpering again, this wet little cry like he forgot where he is and what’s about to happen to him.
I sigh and shoot him in the head. The sound echoes through the room. Blood spatters across my boots and onto the two still breathing. I glance down at the mess, then raise my eyebrows at the survivors like go ahead, fucking try me. They both look down immediately, silent.
“Jesus Christ. What was that?” Kelly asks. “Was that a gunshot?”
“Nyet, someone at the office got mad at the printer and kicked it.”
“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“I’m fine. But the person got fired.”
“I regret calling. I’m just … whatever. I wanted to ask if maybe we could go out later or something, like on an actual date.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, still holding the gun. We can’t do that again. It’s too risky. I was stupid for doing it that one time.
“You know we can’t.”
“Never mind. Just ignore it,” he mutters, his voice going cold and defensive.
“Zaychik. Please.”
“No, it’s fine. I know the rules, and I’m sorry I brought it up. I’ll see you later.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hating how this conversation is ending.
He hangs up.
I drop the phone and press the barrel of the gun to my forehead. Close my eyes. One of the men lets out a wet, shaking breath and starts sobbing again. Begging. I don’t bother listening to what he’s saying.
I was seven years old the first time Father handed me a knife.
The man was already tied to the chair, already bleeding from somewhere I couldn’t see. Father stood behind me, close enough I could smell the cigarette smoke on his coat, and told me exactly where to cut. How deep to go. What would happen if I fucked it up.
I didn’t fuck it up.
Blood went everywhere. My hands, my clothes, spreading across the concrete in pools I had to step around. I stood there after, watching it drip off my fingers, waiting for something to hit. Guilt, fear, disgust, anything.
Nothing came.
Father clapped me on the shoulder when it was over. Told me I did good. Said most kids my age would’ve cried or thrown up or run screaming.
I asked where to clean the knife.
That’s when I got it. This was what I was built for. Not school or friends or whatever normal kids did. This. Blood and silence and doing what needed to be done without hesitation.
I’ve lost count since then. The number’s in the hundreds, maybe higher. They all blur together after a while. Faces I don’t remember, names I never bothered learning, bodies that had to disappear one way or another.
I don’t feel mercy for any of them. Not then, not now, not ever.
My brothers think I’m broken. That Father sharpened me into a weapon and pointed me at whoever needed killing. They’re not wrong. But they don’t understand that I was always this. That seven-year-old kid standing in someone else’s blood wasn’t traumatized. He finally understood what he was for.
Most people are born with something that makes them hesitate before they hurt someone.
I don’t have that. Never did. Father didn’t destroy it.
There was nothing there to destroy. I don’t feel guilty about the killing.
Don’t lose sleep over the screaming. Don’t give a single fuck about these two bleeding out in front of me right now.
But Kelly? He looks at me and somehow sees past all of it. The blood, the bodies, the cold thing my family carved me into. He knows what I am. Knows exactly what I do in rooms like this. And he stays anyway.
He looks at me like I’m something worth keeping. Like I matter beyond what I can kill.
I don’t understand it. Can’t wrap my head around why he’d want someone like me. But whatever he cracked open inside my chest won’t close again. This desperate, aching thing that makes it hard to breathe sometimes. Makes me want things I don’t have words for.
I open my eyes and lean back in the chair, looking at both men. Really bad day to be you two. Because now I’m even more pissed off than I was before Kelly called, and you’re both about to pay for his disappointment and my inability to give him the one normal thing he asked for.
He sounded so fucking sad on the phone. Just wanted something simple. Something easy. And I had to say no because god forbid Roman finds out his son likes men instead of women.
Kelly shouldn’t have to pay for my family’s bullshit. But he’s paying for it anyway.
And so are these two. I took him to that café already. That was reckless enough.
But when he asks me for something, I just … give in. Every single time. He’s making me break rules I’ve followed my entire life.
If my father finds out I’m with a man, Kelly becomes a problem, and I know how he solves problems because I’m the one who does the solving. But this time I’ll refuse the order. And if he tries to force me, I’ll put a bullet in his head. Kelly’s mine to protect, even from my own blood.
Fuck it. I’m about to do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Good thing I’ve lost my mind.
He wants a real date? I’ll give him one that’ll ruin him for everyone else. He owns me, has me wrapped around his finger and doesn’t even realize it.
I pull out my key and shove it into the lock.
The door swings open to Kelly’s apartment—technically mine too now since we’ve spent every second together and I’m not going anywhere. He can kick, scream, change the locks, and none of it would matter because he belongs to me.
I walk straight to the bedroom. He’s curled up in bed with his laptop open, some random show playing. Clover’s knocked out beside him. His hand rests on her soft brown fur. He looks up.
“Get dressed.”
“What?”
“We’re going on a date.”
He scrunches his nose. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry I asked. I was having a bad day, and it was a stupid impulse. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know we can’t really do that kind of thing since it’s risky. We can just order food here and watch something.”
“I made reservations.”
My ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. If any of my grandfathers could see me now, they’d shoot me in the head themselves.
“Are you sure?”
“Da.”
I settle beside him, lying back and pulling Clover onto my chest. Her fur is impossibly soft, her body warm and trusting against me. I always thought rabbits were pointless pets, but she’s actually perfect. Just like everything else Kelly touches.
“Do I need to dress nice?”
“Dress however you want. You look sexy in everything.”
He scoffs and mutters something under his breath and starts pulling out clothes. I watch him strip off his shirt, watch him change his mind, and pull on something else. I can’t stop staring at every movement he makes.
The drive to the restaurant is quiet. Kelly fidgets with the radio, settles on some pop station I couldn’t care less about. Then sings along to a Tate McRae song. I knew his playlist was full of pop songs, but actually hearing him sing it is something else entirely.
By the time I park, I’m already tense because I know exactly how I want the night to end.
He doesn’t know that yet. He just asked for a date and has no idea what he’s walking into.
He’s wearing black jeans and a white shirt with the top buttons undone, his hair styled wavier than usual, messier but deliberately so. My mouth goes dry the second I look at him. He’s gorgeous and all mine.
I still can’t wrap my head around why he doesn’t run. He’s too good for a man like me. Too kind, too pure for someone with blood under his fingernails. But I’m selfish enough to keep him anyway.
“Ready?”