Milo
In life, there is always a breaking point, and I think I have reached mine.
I look at the sick fuck in front of me, and everything hurts.
My body hurts.
My soul hurts.
My very being aches.
The blood in my veins feels scalding, poisonous… fucking wrong.
I want to rip it out of myself. I want to tear my skin open and let it all spill out, because it is stained.
I don’t want to, and I can’t, share DNA with this scum.
I refuse to accept it.
Some rational part of me, very damn small, reminds me that I didn’t choose the world I was born into, or the man who donated the bloody sperm.
But that whisper isn’t strong enough. It can’t outweigh the pressure crushing my chest.
I can’t carry this on my conscience.
Did he truly touch her?
Or is he saying it just to get to me?
Fuck, I hope he’s lying.
But when I look at that smug, revolting face, I know he isn’t.
The bastard smiles at me, completely oblivious to the fact that Isaak and Ido are already moving behind him toward the door.
His attention remains fixed on my woman, and the urge to rip him apart almost blinds me.
I take a step forward.
Octavia’s hand closes around my arm again, stopping me. I can’t look at her.
Not yet.
I give Isaak and Ido a barely perceptible nod. They understand and move for the door, slipping out and sealing it behind them.
They’ll keep everyone back.
Anyone who tries to get in will have to go through them first. Isaak has already called for reinforcements. They’ll be here soon.
Which means this bastard has no one coming to save him, and I swear he is not walking out of this room alive.
“I’m going to kill you,” Octavia says calmly.
Fuck.
That’s my girl.
I don’t take my eyes off Viktor.
He laughs, as if she’s joking, but I know she isn’t.
Because when the time comes, and it will be soon, I’ll put the knife in her hand myself.
“Yes, yes,” he says lazily. “You are ruthless, I’ll grant you that. I didn’t expect it from the little girl who once cried and screamed for help.”
Hearing him say that makes me sick.
It burns.
It makes me want to tear his throat out.
On the outside, I don’t so much as move.
Not a single fucking inch.
“I’ve heard about your other identity,” he goes on. “Death, you call yourself…”
“I don’t give a damn what you’ve heard,” she replies. “But I promise you, you’ll become very well acquainted with her. Death, I mean.”
I picture him at my feet, his blood spreading across this immaculate white floor, staining it beyond repair.
He still smiles.
“Look, don’t take it personally,” he says. “I saved Yuri after you tried to kill him. I don’t know the details, but he called me, and I went after him. Once he recovered, I allowed him to come after you. We can’t afford to look weak. At the time, I had no idea you were this… Death.”
His eyes shift to me.
“I heard my pathetic son had taken an unusual interest in a girl, so I made a few enquiries. I needed the girl close at hand, something to use against him. Imagine my surprise when I realised it was you… my kukolka.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.
He laughs.
“So I started digging deeper. I connected the dots and realised you were Death. I couldn’t very well let Yuri kill you once I understood what you were worth.
You served a better purpose alive. A weapon to use against my son.
” The way his eyes move over her has my hands tightening into fists.
“Break him through you. And perhaps amuse myself along the way. For old times’ sake.
So I staged your death, let Yuri settle a few grudges, and now here we are. ”
He studies her, his revolting eyes glinting.
“I see all that fire in you,” he says. “That’s what I liked most. You always thought you were strong. I enjoy proving people like you wrong, hearing them scream, watching them cry, seeing that strength drain out of their eyes.”
“I was thirteen, you sick fuck,” she spits.
And just like that, I am no longer in the room.
The present falls away, and I am pulled back into the past.