Chapter 17 #2
“I have work for you.” He shifts slightly and nods toward a man across the room—mid-forties, expensive suit, flushed from drink. He’s laughing, arm around a much younger woman who looks like she wants to escape.
“Doesn’t look so bad,” I mutter, watching how the man grips his date’s ass. “Other than being a creep, I suppose.”
“That man is careless,” Alexei huffs. “He steals. Lies. He thinks that because we smile at him and put up with his input, he is untouchable. He’s talking to people he shouldn’t be and leaning towards alliances that threaten what I’ve built.”
My jaw tightens.
“You will fix this.”
I feel an instinctual recoil, but it lasts less than a second. I kill it. Because I know what happens if I don’t. I meet Alexei’s eyes and nod once. “Okay.”
His smile widens, satisfied. “Good. I’ll message you,” he continues casually. “Where to be. What time.”
I nod once more, respectful and obedient.
Adriana doesn’t look at me, and Nolan, the bastard, looks slightly pale.
The music swells again, and the party continues.
And I stand there, newly assigned, knowing exactly what tomorrow will cost me—and exactly how much more of myself I’ll have to give up to survive it.
Alexei is still talking, but his voice dulls to static as the image of a beautiful girl burns behind my eyes. My fingers curl at my sides, and I crush it down immediately.
I can’t afford this. Not now. Not ever again.
“Do you understand, boy?” he asks, his Russian accent thick.
I lift my gaze back to him, empty, calm, exactly what he wants. “I understand,” I say.
And I do. Unfortunately.
The silence that follows when I park the car is deafening, even in Moscow.
I stare at the elevator that leads us to our suite.
Adriana gets out first, smoothing her dress as she moves ahead of me.
I stay seated for a second longer, hands resting on the steering wheel.
My jaw aches from clenching it all night.
“I’m going to make a drink,” she says when I walk into the kitchen. “Would you like one?”
I consider, and then nod, pulling my phone out of my pocket without really thinking. And as soon as I open Instagram, I freeze. My heart races, and my body tenses as if waiting for a baton to strike me as I stare at my phone with dread.
It’s a photographer I follow who often attends events in NYC. And standing right there...is her. With Heather. And Micah. At the fucking Met Gala.
My vision tunnels. My pulse slams so hard it makes me dizzy.
No.
No, no, no.
They’re there.
She’s there.
My thumb trembles as I scroll. Another photo. Then another. She’s in a black dress, her hair swept back, eyes bright under the lights. That—that beautiful fucking woman. And Heather is grinning like she loves the attention. Micah’s between them, with his arms around them both.
My stomach drops out completely.
Fuck.
Fuck.
They didn’t let me go. She didn’t. And Micah...that fucker didn’t either. They’re in New York. Which means only one thing.
Rook.
My chest tightens painfully. This isn’t hope. This is danger. This is them walking straight into a fire I’ve been trying to keep them away from.
God fucking dammit.
Adriana’s voice cuts in, laced with concern as she slides a vodka cranberry toward me on the kitchen island. “Jude?”
I don’t answer.
She steps closer, peering at my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I need a minute,” I snap, shoving the door open and stalking toward the elevator. I don’t wait to see if she follows. At the end of the hall, I pace like a caged animal, phone clenched so tight it hurts. My breathing is shallow. My thoughts are loud, tangled, and furious.
I unblock Micah, and I dial from a private number.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Go somewhere alone,” I say quietly. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “Now.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Jude?”
That’s it. That’s all it takes. Rage floods my chest. “What the fuck are you doing in New York?” I demand, voice low and lethal. “Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”
Silence. Then Micah exhales. It sounds like he’s shutting a door. “We’re just trying to help you.”
“I told you to leave it alone,” I hiss. “I told you to let me go.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” he says carefully. “Not when you’re being held against your fucking will.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. “You have no idea what you’re risking.”
“Emma does,” he fires back. “And she still came.”
That hits harder than any punch Alexei’s men have thrown at me. I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that I just heard her name.
Her fucking name.
“She shouldn’t have,” I growl, my hand trembling on my phone. “She doesn’t belong in this world.”
“Neither do you,” Micah says swiftly.
A bitter laugh bursts from me. “Too fucking late, man.”
“Tell me where you are,” he demands. “Tell me what they’re doing to you.”
My face contorts in rage as I steady my breathing. “Alexei told me he’d sell her.”
“W—what?” Micah stutters.
Rage is pounding throughout my body. “Alexei told me he’d fucking sell her. I’m already watching this trafficker Alexei’s best friends with. He seems interested in Adriana.”
“Why are you even—”
“Shut up, Micah!” I whisper yell. “Stop. Looking. For me.”
A beat. Then, “We’re not giving up on you.”
“Yes, you are,” I say coldly. “You’re done. Stay out of this. All of you. Just fuck off, Micah. Her, too. I’m here. I’m with Adriana. Tell her to get over me. You guys will die if you come.”
“Jude—”
I hang up and immediately block the number again.
My hands are shaking when I lower the phone.
He’s not stupid. He knows I’d never willingly and happily be in a relationship with anyone who isn’t her.
But I have to get them away. And if I have to strike somewhere that hurts, so be it.
I can’t allow them to get hurt because of me.
It’s too much for any of us. My only escape is, quite literally, death.
When I turn around, Adriana is standing in the hall. She heard everything.
I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “I don’t have the patience for your bullshit right now. So don't even start.” I push past her and into our suite, my body already moving on instinct. I drop heavily onto the couch and pull out my kit, setting it on the glass coffee table.
But she doesn’t say a word. She just hugs herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso. Her eyes are dark as she watches me prepare the needle.
I toss her the remote without looking. “Put something on,” I mutter. “Whatever you’d like.”
She catches it and flips through options, eventually landing on The Vow. Some romantic shit. I dose, relief flooding my veins and washing away the rage. The anger dulls, panic fades, and my body relaxes into the cushions.
Adriana sits beside me a moment later, close enough that her knee brushes mine. She pulls a fuzzy red blanket over both of us, hesitating like she’s waiting for me to bitch about it.
I don’t.
After a beat, she settles. I reach out without thinking, draping an arm around her torso and pulling her in. It’s instinctual. Automatic. She stiffens for half a second, surprised. Then she melts against me, her head resting on my chest.
“Oh,” she murmurs quietly. “Okay.”
Her breathing slows almost immediately. She’s comfortable.
Safe. Satisfied in a way that makes something in my chest crack.
It’s not guilt exactly, but it’s not nothing either.
I trace idle patterns along her arm, my thumb moving back and forth just to give my hands something to do. The movie keeps playing.
Leave me alone.
The thought is like claws inside my mind.
Leave me alone.
I don’t know who I’m directing it at. The woman I loved. Micah. The past. Myself. It doesn’t matter. The words loop anyway, louder each time.
Leave me the fuck alone.
My fingers trace the faint blue veins on the inside of her wrist, feeling her steady pulse.
Halfway through the movie, against my better judgment, I tilt my head down and kiss her.
She responds instantly. Of course she does, I’m what she’s always wanted.
I fucking hate her. But just like she’s always used me to cope with her shitty life.
..I’m doing the same. This is easier and quieter for me right now when all I want to do is put a fucking pistol in my mouth and pull the trigger.
I know I’m sealing the coffin on the man I used to be.
..but I don’t stop. I don’t want to feel anymore.
Her hand comes up, her fingers curling into the fabric of my t-shirt at my chest. She pulls back, just an inch. Her green eyes are wide, searching my face in the flickering TV light. “What was that? Out there?” she murmurs.
I don’t have an answer. My thumb strokes the curve of her hip through the blanket.
She swallows. “Was that Micah?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” My voice is rough. Though I find it odd that she seems almost happy at the idea of him.
“I saw the photo from The Met.” She says, hesitantly. “I saw him with...her.”
A bitter sound escapes me, not quite a laugh. “Don’t do this.”
She shifts away, her eyes narrowing. “Jude...I need to talk to you about something.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not doing this.” I lean away from her.
She swallows loudly. “I...I really need to, though. You have to know—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Adriana’s mouth opens and closes, conflicted.
The meth is only adding to my annoyance.
“I almost miss the cunt who raped me. At least that bitch was selfish and didn’t want to dig into my life so long as I fucked her.
She had no real interest in me. It’s almost fucking laughable that you care now, you know that?
When you’re not at the top of the power totem pole anymore. ”
Her eyes widen as I start to lose my grip.