Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Alexei
Ipace the floor of my brother's den, balling up a piece of paper and squeezing it like a stress ball. Though it does little to help. Counting to ten. Deep breathing. None of it has ever been enough to stop my perfect storms from coming. A crumbled piece of paper isn't going to change that.
After killing at least five of our men, Chet went on a bigger destructive rampage than I could've anticipated. His work is far-reaching and significant. It's also impressive, which is a pain in the ass.
Not only did he make an attempt on my fucking house, there were men killed at our safe houses, too. Safe houses I was sure nobody even knew we had. Chet is already several steps ahead of me in a race I didn't realize we were running.
We were lucky to get away with what we did. Which wasn't much. It was very nearly just too much for us to handle.
From reports, the DeMarcos were hit just as hard. Many of their properties damaged and their own estate defaced as well. From Anton's reaction last night, it's clear those reports are true.
The fact that Chet nearly had the resources to take out my empire whilst simultaneously launching an attack on the DeMarcos is more than a threat.
Chet is coming, and he's coming for all of us.
Trying to disrupt the tenuously held peace we clutch onto.
The peace that my brother, too, tried to interrupt.
I throw the ball of paper across the room and it flies underwhelming close just to land right in front of my black dress shoe. I grunt, and given that isn't satisfying enough, I pick up a glass and smash that, too.
Isla opens the door just as the glass comes sailing for it. She quickly closes the door, letting the glass smash before she slips into the room. "Smashing glasses already? Can't be a good sign," she says, kicking away the broken glass with her boot as she closes the door again.
I sigh and look back to her, flexing my fingers and feeling like I need something bigger to break. "I'm just... frustrated."
"Why?" she says with a smirk, because on top of this she knows I've got a lot to be angry about and that's enough for me to crack a small smile. I stand up straight just as she heaps herself onto the green couch that I can't bring myself to get rid of even though I know I should.
"You do... look more stressed than usual though," she says, tilting her head as she watches me.
My heart rate picks up, not enjoying the way she psychoanalyzes me. I've never needed a therapist and I certainly don't need her to start acting like one. I'm prone to anger. It's the only emotion where I ever lose control of the leash.
"You're angry. At the right person this time?"
I tighten my jaw to stop from lashing out at her. Instead I pour a drink and fixate on the way the glass feels in my hand. The way the skin around my tattoos tightens and loosens the more I squeeze the glass and picture letting it shatter in my hand.
Even as I attempt to ignore Isla, I hear her moving closer towards me. Her hand appears on my shoulder and for once, the urge to destroy gets stronger rather than weaker. Usually, Isla is fantastic at calming me but she might be out of her depth now.
Isla looks at me in confusion as she takes her hand off my shoulder, watching it like it's burned. She frowns as she says, "Alexei, you have to let go."
I scowl, just as hard as I try not to lose my shit. "Who says I'm holding on?"
"You are. Of whatever it is that's making you so angry," she says as she pours her own shot and downs it. Her lips smack in satisfaction and I know she needed that drink just as much as I did after how things were left last night. "I know it's not that girl."
I run my tongue along my teeth. It's definitely that fucking girl.
I am angry. I am definitely fucking angry at Sage.
Isla can't tell me any different. It's the only feeling that has ever made any sense.
So I'm angry for different reasons, too.
Other ones that feel much more like shame.
I hold on to them tightly, knowing that anger barely disguises my guilt.
"I've told you a million times to leave her alone and focus on Chet instead. When is enough going to be enough?" she says, throwing her hands in the air. "How much more damage does he have to do for you to do something?"
For a second, I think of my brother. How much damage did he have to do before I stepped in? The damage and losses we suffered last night were all at Chet's hand. But the second she said it, an image of my brother popped into my mind.
His last few months come roaring back to me. I saw all the signs that he was up to something I wasn't going to like. I wasn't in charge, though. It wasn't my place to monitor my brother or stop him from being an idiot. This was his empire to lead.
Which one of us is running it into the ground? I don't even know.
I know exactly who I'm angry at, and admitting it makes me want to tear a hole through my chest.
My stupid fucking brother.
I grit my teeth. He's a stupid fuck for dying and a stupid fuck for ever making a deal with Chet. Now he's left me here to deal with the fallout from it. With both his empire to run and a death promise to uphold.
All I want to do is focus on killing Sage DeMarco. On seeing the light leave her eyes. That cold, dead, look that Victor had on his face. I want to see it on hers. It's what I want more than anything. I want to make her pay for what she took from me.
But I can't.
Because my brother died.
Because Victor is dead and now this is my empire to run. I don't get to run off and neglect responsibility. I don't get to be the other Rushkoff anymore.
Lives and livelihoods depend on me.
And I fucking hate it.
"We can't take on Chet alone-" Isla starts, knocking me out of my thoughts.
"I fucking know that!"
"He's shown what power he has, and what he's willing to do to get what he wants."
"I can see that, Isla." I bite my lip, trying to temper my reaction to her. She's only pointing out the facts and trying desperately to get me to see them. Doesn't help the build up I feel from it all. From this mess I've been left with and what I have to do to fix it.
She doesn't need to nag me. Of course I can see it. She mustn't know me as well as I think she does because to me, it's obvious. I wouldn't be this angry if I couldn't see the bigger picture. If I didn't understand what I have to do.
"You need to come up with a plan. If we can't take him alone. You need to decide what we're going to do-"
"I already know what I have to do," I say, gritting my teeth on a growl. "That's why I'm so fucking angry."
She gives me a strange look and raises her brow.
I take a deep breath and one more shot of vodka for good measure. The next part is going to hurt. I'll be lucky if I get through it without making everything worse.
"Get your fucking coat. We've got a spoiled little princess to visit."