Chapter 17 #2
“You don’t need to trust anyone but me!” I shout back, Alexei’s footsteps brisk beside mine as we chase Ash down a wood-panelled hallway rife with oil paintings. It’ll be a shame to see ‘em all burn. Oh well.
“I will never make the mistake of doubting you again,” Alexei murmurs, sweeping a small bow before he turns and pulls on the iron ring of a heavy wooden door. I didn’t see Ash go down the stairs, but maybe Alexei knows something I don’t. “I’ll wait here until you need me.”
Definitely he knows something I don’t. Him and Bohnes. A wedding invitation? Stapled to Cody’s chest?
Aha. I see why Alexei and Bohnes left the little rat alive—to deliver a message.
That’s tomorrow-Scarlett’s problem. Today-Scarlett needs arson, kidnapping, and catnapping.
We could all be looking at life without parole for the scene in this house.
Or, more likely, the death penalty.
There’s a cellar down the stairs to my right, nice and cool and filled with a treasure trove of expensive alcohol bottles. Beautiful stone floors and walls. Mood lighting. The smell of death. Dirty white sheets in the middle of the floor covered in the bodies of burly, suited men.
Ah. So that’s where all the extra goons went.
I stop walking.
Ash is holding a large cardboard box in his bloody hands. Lid open. Gray powder inside.
That’s my Lemon, the girl I last saw in the silver dress and pixie cut.
Hating me. Loving Aspen the way I love Ash.
My heart is lodged in my throat, reminding me that it isn’t just Lem that’s gone.
It’s Evelyn, my best driver. It’s Lexi, my only sister.
And here I am, trying to save her killer from himself.
“She was never good at reading people, Lemon wasn’t.
” My voice is detached and strange, like it’s coming from outside of me.
I laugh and that’s even worse. Swipe my hand over my face.
Alexis and Lemon have both been reduced to ash.
By Ash. Sort of. “But I’ve always been really good at it.
Like, I think that’s my superpower. More so than my driving or my adrenaline-addiction or anything else. ”
I look at Ash, but he’s only staring at the box. Thinking about kissing Lemon’s bloody lips, maybe. He’s dripping Maryanne’s blood all over the floor, droplets of red on his bare feet. He’s so wounded, so damaged. He wants to kneel for me, but he’s afraid that giving in means giving up.
It couldn’t be further from the truth.
Life has never been more real for me than it is right now.
“You saw something in me, is what you’re saying,” Ash clarifies, closing his eyes. “And what was it that you saw?”
“A rare sweet soft thing.” I walk over to the box, reaching out to take it from him. There are shards of white in there. Bits of bone. “You think I’d follow just any rich boy down a bunch of stone steps into a dark cellar? Be so for real right now, Ash.”
“Chigau yo. I wanted to be a sweet soft thing, but I wasn’t allowed to be.” Ash moves up next to me, also staring down at what’s left of Lemon.
“You’re allowed to now.” I hold the box against my chest. Nice and tight.
One last hug. “We just need to prove ourselves to Alexei’s relatives.
You, most of all. If we do that, we’ll be above Jonas and Chet in the underworld hierarchy.
You four love murdering so much, you may as well embrace this final mission.
” I lift my chin, reminding myself of Alexei.
“We’re going to get rid of your father and every skid mark of human shit that helped him perpetuate your suffering, Pavel’s death, and Lemon’s. ”
“The mob is going to kill me anyway, Scarlett,” Ash breathes in a pained whisper, but he’s wrong. He’s fucking wrong. “And that’s best-case scenario. I don’t want Jonas coming after you, and if I’m with you, then he’ll never give up. Never.”
“Yeah? So what. Fuck Jonas. He’s a dead man once the mob realizes he’s one of the masterminds behind Pavel’s murder.
” I pick up one of Lemon’s bone fragments in my hand, and it’s the most macabre experience of my entire life.
“We’ll negotiate with the family for your life.
Whatever it takes, we’ll pay. Money talks, Ash-pen.
Alexei has a lot of money. Or, he will, once we get it all back. ”
Ash whips his attention over to me, ready to protest. I turn just as quickly, forcing our gazes to clash.
“If you disobey me, you’re going to get everyone killed.
Don’t be a liability, Ash. Be an asset. Do as I say.
” We stare one another down, the smell of blood and rot and money mixing in the clammy cellar air.
I’d love to know how Lem’s body was ‘found’, but I can ask about that later.
In the end, it’s not really as important as my heart says it is. Feelings are luxuries.
Ash is frozen there, wearing Widow’s aunt’s blood and staring at the skeletal debris like he’s sorry and sad. A sweet, soft thing that loves frogs and weird grass-flavored teas. He’ll be a good boy and he’ll listen to me. Might take a bit of training though. These fuckboys are stubborn.
There’s a buzzing sound as Ash’s phone rings in his pocket. He tugs it out and answers before I can stop him.
A switch is flicked in his eyes and I watch in horror as he transforms from Ash to Aspen. His eyes go dark and cold. His mouth melts and then solidifies into a line of steel. His chin lifts. His shoulders go back. His heart shimmers and disappears.
“Jonas.” That’s how he answers.
A long pause follows.
“Did you meet with Trish and Denis?” Jonas asks, the sound of chatter and clinking dinnerware in the background.
“They didn’t show. Not that it matters.” Ash looks at me, but I don’t see anything of his real personality in there.
My body breaks out in cold chills the way it did when I met the real Aspen for the first time.
“I have the Borisov boy in my possession. Should I kill him now or do you have another use for him?”
“You have him, do you?” Jonas asks lazily, a flash of frigid cruelty to match the Aspen mask that Ash is wearing.
So much for the gregarious ever-smiling fop that Jonas presents to the world.
My mind catches on small details, like the hunger in the mayor’s voice.
His words drip, like he’s got saliva at the jowls.
The Borisov boy in question appears in the shadows behind Ash, reaching over his shoulder to pluck the phone from his hand. Alexei switches the call to video. Jonas does the same, and the pair of them look right at each other.
“Greetings from the Borisov family,” Alexei says, his voice like poured silk.
He throws an arm around Ash’s neck, cutting off whatever he was about to say.
It’s effortless, the way he holds the phone and subdues Ash at the same time.
I nearly have a heart attack when Alexei licks the length of Ash’s jaw.
Licks it. My brows rise. The germaphobe mob brat is licking the mayor’s son?
“Your heir will be a delightful little plaything. I look forward to having him underneath me.”
Ash is not a weak man. On the contrary, he’s cunning. He’s strong. He can hold his own in a fight. But he’s not…whatever the fuck Alexei Grove is. Ash is struggling, hands clawing at Alexei’s white hoodie sleeve, his dark eyes wide as they peer into mine. He doesn’t know what to think, poor thing.
“Congratulations, Alexei.” Jonas forces his mouth into a smile. It’s not his usual constituent-pleasing smile. Fuck no. This is the real him, corrupt and depraved. His very existence is a malefaction. “Pavel would’ve been so proud of you…if he were still alive, that is.”
Alexei doesn’t react to that statement about his father.
He’s too good at these games. He smiles right back at the phone screen, lowering himself to his knees and taking Ash with him to the stone floor.
He adjusts the arm around Ash’s neck, trading it out for a latex-gloved hand.
That hand wraps Ash’s pale throat, collaring him with long fingers.
“Thank you for admitting to having knowledge of Papa’s death.
The family will be happy to hear it.” Alexei slides a thumb over Ash’s bottom lip.
At this point, Ash is trembling, sweat droplets dragging blood down the sides of his face and turning it pink.
Without flinching, Alexei tugs Ash’s plush bottom lip down. “Open.”
The word is cold. Definitive. Performative.
Ash’s eyes shift to mine, wild and frantic, his hands clenching over his thighs. He wants to handle his father. Take over this call. Play the martyr.
“Open,” I repeat, the word a whisper that Jonas hopefully can’t hear. If he does, eh. But it’s better if Jonas believes Ash is obeying Alexei.
There’s a moment of tense silence. The only sound is cutlery and chatter from the fancy dining room where Jonas is sitting.
He doesn’t seem to mind if everyone in there hears this conversation.
And he had to know it would be personal, incriminating even, before he answered. Where is he? Is he really in DC still?
Ash opens, his mouth pink and wet. His skin dressed in blood. His lip caught under Alexei’s latex-clad thumb. Alexei pushes that thumb into his rival’s mouth and leans in to whisper in Ash’s ear. “Suck.”
Eyes hooded with resignation, Ash does just that. Swirls his tongue around the digit. Far too comfortable with the idea of sacrifice to put forth much resistance.
“I see you’re comfortable enough to pay my son a visit at my personal residence.
Is there a reason for that?” Jonas pushes his chair back, rising to his feet and turning with his phone in hand.
There’s an empty chair beside him and a table full of people in silky dresses and extravagant tuxes.
Stately. Stuffy. Baronial. “Perhaps you got cozy together over turkey and sweet potatoes? Ash always was a sentimental fool, far too keen on making friends.”