Chapter 21
The Predator
Ilearned a thing or two today.
I didn’t like these events. Not the people. Not the loud voices. And definitely not Ivan fucking Morozov.
And it was truly a strenuous task to not jump down the fucking stage and slit his throat right then and there before cutting off his finger he was touching my little bird with. The rage boiled within me, and I hated this new feeling.
It was concerning that I wanted to already see blood when I had just caused mayhem two hours ago.
Patience, I told myself. It would be so easy, so gratifying to end him now, but no. There was a time and place for everything, and his time was coming. Soon.
“You’re glaring,” I heard Kyle mutter, and I tore my gaze from the crowd where my little bird was. She thought she’d blend in with all these useless humans, and I wouldn’t notice her. I could see her in the back, trying to hide behind the mundane faces, but she stood out to me like a beacon.
There was no way she didn’t know I’d be here. I wanted to believe she put that dress on for me so that I could rip it off later. Another part of me wanted to kidnap her, lock her somewhere so that she could look only and only at me.
The idea of her fear alone was enough to make it difficult to think straight—but I sighed, because chaos and witnesses always ruined the simplest pleasures.
I‘d done enough killing for today.
Yet the image of her in that dress, the way it clung to her curves, was a sweet torment. She was daring me, challenging me. My little bird wanted to play, and I was more than eager to oblige.
I forced myself to relax; the anticipation make the hunt more thrilling.
The bastard once again touched her, and she definitely looked uncomfortable.
A dark scowl curled on my lips.
“Stop glaring. You’re blind for fuck’s sake.” Kyle grumbled as the woman with chopped bangs motioned to the table. When I turned my head to look back at my Ptichka, she was gone.
Her futile attempts at hiding amused me. She didn’t realize that no matter where she went, no matter how deep she tried to bury herself among the sheep, I would always find her. She was mine, after all.
To my irritation, that motherfucker was gone too. He wanted to die sooner than I intended. He had to serve his purpose first, but he keeps provoking me; I’d chop him into pieces and send them to his brother.
Thirty minutes passed, and she was still nowhere to be found. My patience wore thin, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. So, she was ignoring me publicly now.
I envisioned dragging her from the shadows, her screams echoing as I claimed her, marking her as mine.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to maintain control.
I committed a homicide for my little bird, and she dared to pay me back this way?
Killing Dontello would create havoc, but he was a threat, a pest that needed to be eliminated.
She didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, how dangerous he was.
Stalking her, watching her every move, plotting to sell her off like some piece of meat.
The bastard thought he could get away with it, but he was wrong. Dead wrong.
I was not like him. My motives were pure.
I did not stalk her; I just kept an eye on her, but it was for more than just protection. It went beyond mere attraction or infatuation; it was a twisted addiction.
The way my demons quieted the moment she appeared needed to be studied.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
No one could protect her from me. No one could take her away from me. She was mine, and I’d kill anyone who tried to change that.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts.
Patience, I reminded myself. She couldn’t hide forever.
The hunt was still on, and I was relentless.
My little bird would soon learn that there was no escaping a predator like me.
And when I found them, they would both pay for every second of this torment.
“Track her phone, Kyle,” I muttered as the announcer droned on, the crowd of idiots cheering. On second thought, I should just kill them all.
Kyle fiddled with his phone, tracking her. Good. There was no time for these insects. My Ptichka was out there, and I needed to see her.
“She’s going back to Texas.”
The thought of her trying to escape was almost funny. She was already too far in running anywhere that mattered.
My little bird thought she could fly away, but I’d clip her wings and make her understand the true meaning of captivity.