Chapter 17
Dimitri Morozov
The last week had been a goddamn nightmare. The Italian mafia had been pushing hard, sending intruders everywhere.
Tonight was supposed to be the last loose end.
Enzo. Some Italian prick we had caught trying to move their shit through one of our old warehouses on the edge of the river.
He had been working with a couple of their guys who had already been dealt with earlier in the week.
We grabbed him outside a bar two hours ago.
Now he was strapped to a metal chair in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.
Ilya was having the time of his life.
He had Enzo’s right hand pinned flat to the armrest with a belt, pliers in his bloody fingers, working the fingernails off one slow rip at a time. Every time another nail came free, there was that wet sound. Ilya’s eyes were wide and bright.
“Look at that,” Ilya said, voice giddy as he held up the bloody nail between the pliers.
Enzo’s head jerked, spit and blood flying. His voice cracked. “Please, god, please! I told you everything! I don’t know anything else, I swear—”
I sat on an overturned crate ten feet away, phone in my hand, thumb refreshing the same empty chat for what felt like the hundredth time. I had sent the last message hours ago.
Ilya yanked another nail free. Enzo howled.
“Put something in his mouth,” I said, voice flat. “If I have to hear his annoying voice again, I’ll put a bullet in his head before you can finish.”
Ilya made a dramatic pout but grabbed a filthy rag off the floor, wadded it up, and shoved it between Enzo’s teeth. He wrapped duct tape around his head twice to hold it in place, still humming under his breath. He was so happy to torture people. I thought it was his favorite thing in the world.
From the shadows near the loading dock door, Alexei had been leaning against the wall the whole time, arms crossed, looking bored.
“You’ve been pissy today,” he said, eyes flicking from my phone to my face. “Your lover not answering?”
I did not look up. Lover was too clean a word for whatever the fuck Rei and I were. Technically we were not anything official. But ever since that night in the woods, I had decided he was mine.
“He’s not my lover,” I muttered.
“Sure,” Alexei said. He pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack but did not light it. Just rolled it between his fingers.
Ilya giggled from the chair without looking up, twisting the last fingernail free with a wet pop. “Poor Dimitri. Want me to carve a heart in this guy’s chest for you? Make it romantic?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ilya,” I said.
Alexei ignored him. He lit the cigarette and exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. He looked like he was about to say something, but I cut him off before he even started.
“Spare me the speech.”
Alexei studied me for a long second, cigarette burning between his fingers. He nodded.
Then he pulled his own phone out of his pocket. His mouth tightened into a hard line. He muttered something under his breath, sounded like “fuck,” and thumbed the screen off.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He killed the cigarette against the sole of his boot and dropped it. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
He was already walking toward the side door. “Doesn’t matter. Handle the rest of this. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Alexei—”
My phone vibrated with a notification. I had alerts set for every time Rei was tagged or posted anything. I opened it immediately.
A carousel of photos from a house party showed up on my screen.
The first few were wide shots of a living room packed with people, red cups everywhere, someone doing a keg stand in the background while others laughed.
Random faces I did not know. Then a closer one: Marco, Rei’s friend, with his arm around some girl, her mouth on his neck. I swiped again.
Rei.
He was sitting on the arm of a couch in the background of the shot, drink in one hand, looking off to the side like he was half-listening to something. He looked good. Too fucking good.
Next swipe.
Same party, different angle, probably taken a few minutes later. Rei was still on the couch, but now there was a guy standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall. His eyes were locked on Rei. He was not just looking. He was staring like he wanted to fuck him.
My blood went hot.
Now it was time to fucking break someone’s face.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and stood up. Ilya’s head snapped up, pliers still in his hand, blood on his knuckles. “Hey! Where are you going?! Hey!?”
His voice followed me toward the door, but it was already fading under the rain. Alexei’s car was long gone from the lot. I got into my own car and drove like a maniac.
My mind would not stop replaying the photo. Rei sitting there alone. That guy watching him. What was he saying right now? Was Rei smiling back? Was he letting the guy buy him another drink? Was he ignoring my messages because he was having too much fun?
He was mine.
I killed the engine when I arrived and stepped out, heading toward the entrance.
Out of the corner of my eye, near the side of the house, Alexei had Marco by the throat.
One hand clamped tight around the guy’s neck, dragging him backward like a sack of meat toward the corner of the garage.
Marco’s feet scrambled, hands clawing at Alexei’s wrist, face already going red.
Alexei’s expression was stone cold as he hauled Marco out of sight.
What the fuck?
My brain tried to spin it, but there was no time. My little fairy was somewhere inside that house, and after the photo I had seen, god only knew how many drunk, horny idiots were already eyeing him, circling like sharks.
I left. Whatever Alexei was doing with Marco could wait. Rei could not.
I pushed through the front door without knocking. A drunk girl in a tiny dress and smeared lipstick spotted me and lit up like I was the answer to her prayers. She stumbled straight into my path, hands grabbing my jacket, pressing her tits against my chest.
“Heyyy, you’re hot. Dance with me? Or we could go upstairs—”
“Fuck off,” I growled, shoving her back hard enough that she nearly fell into a group of laughing guys. She pouted but did not follow.
I kept moving. Living room, dining room, kitchen. Too many faces, none of them silver-haired with a flower tucked behind one ear. Where the fuck was he?
Then I spotted the girl from the photo. The one who had been wrapped around Marco, her mouth on his neck. She was sitting on the bottom of the stairs now, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the floor like the world had ended. Mascara running, lips trembling. She looked wrecked.
I crossed to her in three strides and crouched down so we were eye level.
“Have you seen Rei?”
She blinked up at me. “Who?”
Jesus Christ.
“Japanese guy. A little taller than you. Silver hair. Always wears a flower in it. Looks like a fucking fairy.”
Her face scrunched like she was trying to think through the alcohol. “Ah… yeah. I saw him go to the bathroom a while ago. Like… ten minutes? Maybe more. He looked kinda out of it.”
Out of it. What the fuck did that mean?
I nodded once, stood up, and headed for the bathroom. The music was still pounding, but I could hear something else now. Something that sounded like a body hitting tile.
I kicked the door open.
Two figures inside.
Rei, my Rei, pinned against the sink by some greasy-haired asshole in a cheap button-up. The guy had Rei’s wrist in a death grip, other hand on his shoulder, shoving him back.
His free hand was weakly pushing at the guy’s chest, but there was no strength in it. He looked drunk. No, worse. Drugged.
The other guy was standing nearby, one hand on the sink, watching with a sick little grin. Waiting his turn.
I saw fucking red.
I grabbed the guy pinning Rei by the back of the neck and the belt loop of his jeans, yanked him off my fairy, and slammed his face straight into the mirror above the sink.
Shards rained down.
The guy screamed as his forehead and cheek split open on impact. Blood sprayed across the remaining mirror and the sink. Rei flinched hard at the noise, knees buckling, and slid down the wall to the floor in a heap.
The second guy, the one by the sink, got hit by flying glass. A big jagged piece sliced across his cheek and another embedded near his eye. He howled.
“Fuck! Fuck, my face!”
I did not even look at him yet.
Rei was on the floor, hazy, trying to push himself up but failing. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, lips parted like he was trying to speak but could not form words.
I reached down, unbuckled my belt, pulled it free from the loops. Rei’s head turned toward the sound, confused. I crouched in front of him, close enough to smell the alcohol and something chemical on his breath.
“Stay still,” I said. “Don’t peek.”
He made a slurred sound, maybe trying to say my name. I slid the belt around his eyes, covering them completely, and buckled it behind his head, just enough to blind him.
“What… are u… is that blood…?”
“Stay still,” I repeated.
I stood up, rolled my sleeves to my elbows, and turned to the bleeding asshole who had had his hands on Rei.
The guy whose head I had just smashed into the mirror.
He was trying to straighten up, one hand pressed to his split forehead, blood streaming down his face and into his eyes.
The second guy was still screaming about his face, backing toward the door like he might run.
I ignored the screamer for now.
“Did you drug him?” I asked the bleeding one.
He glared at me through the blood. Then his fist came up.
Okay.
I grabbed him by the hair and the front of his shirt and drove his face into the mirror again. Harder this time. The rest of the glass shattered completely.
I let him drop to the tile, then kicked him hard in the ribs. He curled up, coughing blood. I planted my boot on his neck, pressing down just enough to cut off most of his air.
His hands flew up, grabbing my ankle.
He choked. “Wait, wait, I’ll tell you!”
I lifted my boot.