Loathe Me

by LP Lovell

  Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I leave my room and head for hers. Without knocking, I push the handle down and nudge open the door. It’s dark inside, but her window is wide open. She never listens.

  Moonlight spills across her bed, painting her sleeping form in silvery light. As soon as I lay eyes on her, the tension in my muscles eases.

  Her chest rises and falls rhythmically, and her lips are slightly parted. My mind conjures the memory of her mouth against mine. Part of me would do anything to keep her safe, while the other part hates her. My life was straight forward until I was ordered to protect her. Ever since then, nothing has been simple. I want to go back, but I can’t. She’s rendered me powerless.

  She stirs, her body tensing as a low murmur slips past her lips. I take a step back, and reluctantly leave the room before she wakes.

  I just needed to see her, that’s all. Going back to my room, I lay down and close my eyes.

  Adelina is safe. That’s my last thought before I finally drift to sleep.

  17

  Adelina

  I wake with a start and the sensation of falling. I blink against the darkness and freeze when I realize there’s someone in my room. My pulse ticks up, and adrenaline floods my veins as I prepare to leap out of bed and run. My eyes adjust, and I can just about make out the outline of the shadowy figure.

  “Sasha?” I breathe in relief.

  He also freezes like a wild animal in headlights. For several loud beats of my heart, neither of us says or does anything. I haven’t spoken to him for days, and his presence in my room—in the middle of the night—is surprising. I can sense his unease from here.

  I shift across the bed and tug back the covers, a silent invitation that I don’t really expect him to accept. He lingers near the door, and I’m sure he’s going to leave, but instead, he takes a step forward, then another. Finally, he lowers himself onto the mattress. He remains stiff and awkward as he lays there, but he’s here. I can’t help but think that deep down he needs something from me the same way I need something from him. We don’t touch; we simply exist together. After a while, his breaths even out, and I listen to them, allowing them to pull me to sleep.

  I blink against the dull morning light pouring through the open balcony doors. The heat from Sasha’s body seeps into me, though we aren’t touching. Rolling over, I allow my eyes to sweep over his sleeping form.

  Sasha’s so perfect, like one of those Roman statues, an Adonis. Every feature is sharp, as though it were chiseled from marble. My gaze trails lower, taking in the defined cut of his arms below the sleeve of his T-shirt. I hadn’t noticed before, but the closer I get, the more scars I notice. They litter his skin, everywhere.

  I glance at the clock and then Sasha again. It’s nearly nine in the morning. From my weeks on the run with him, I know he’s usually up by seven, and I wonder if I should wake him.

  Pitching onto my elbow, I reach out and place a hand on his chest. In the blink of an eye, I go from leaning over him to flat on my back with a very awake Russian on top of me. His hand clamps over my throat, and his fingers twitch against my skin in warning. I thought we might be passed this, but apparently not. He blinks, that line sinking between his brows. On a shaky breath, I slide my fingers beneath his shirt and stroke my fingers over his back. At first, his hold tightens, but then he releases a choked breath, and it instantly loosens.

  “Malyshka?”

  His body crushes mine into the mattress, and I know rationally it should scare me. He’s a psychopath, a killer. And yet I want him closer. Every bit of it’s wrong, but I don’t care.

  His eyes search my face. “I’m sorry—”

  I cover his mouth with my hand, and he quirks a brow. “A lion does not apologize for being a lion, Sasha.” I allow my hand to slip from his face.

  “I hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m fine.” I stroke my hands higher up his back, and he grits his teeth, squeezing his lids shut. When his eyes flash open, I pause, fingers stilling on his skin. His eyes are wild, unhinged, so unlike Sasha. It both thrills and terrifies me.

  His gaze drops to my mouth, and then in one perfect moment, his lips collide with mine. It’s animalistic and primal, brutal and unapologetic. His fingers grip my face so hard that they dig into my skin. I’m overpowered physically and mentally until I crave everything that he is.

  And then he’s gone.

  He sits back on his heels, forcing space between us. “I’m sorry, malyshka.” He gets off the bed.

  His apology stings more than it should. He thinks this is wrong. Maybe he’s right. Now’s probably not the time for such things. I know that, yet I can’t seem to help myself. It’s selfish and reckless. I’m a source of guilt and confusion for him. He’s a soldier. He has his rules, his boundaries, and I keep smashing through them.

  For long moments, we just stare at each other across the room, and then he ducks his chin, releasing a deep sigh before he leaves. The door clicks shut behind him with heavy finality.

  I know deep down that he is not a man I need to have any kind of feeling toward, and yet, my poor, vulnerable heart…

  I haven’t seen Sasha since he left my room several days ago. I’ve lost all track of time, because I have no purpose. I’m just breathing. Functioning. Existing. I slip back into my solitude as easily as an old coat. I hate it, but it’s all I have.

  I’m in the kitchen making coffee, and it’s only when the machine cuts off that I realize just how quiet the house is. There’s always someone around. Somewhere. Poking my head into the hallway, I see that the armed men still stand vigilantly by the front door.

  It’s only when I spot George sitting outside a door that my curiosity peaks, and I walk over. The low murmur of talking can be heard on the other side, so I tiptoe closer. I can make out the timber of Nero’s voice through the thick wood, then Sasha’s with his slight accent. They’ve all been strangely elusive for days. If I ever ask what’s happening, I get no response. From any of them, including Gio and Tommy. Apparently, I don’t need to know what’s happening. I just get to exist in limbo. Pressing my ear to the thick wood, I listen. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m tired of being treated like a child, always out of the loop.

  “You have as much moral obligation as I do, here, if not more,” Sasha says.

  “Adelina was always supposed to marry Bianchi. That’s not on us, her father made that deal,” Nero cuts in, and my heart hiccups at his hurtful words. “If we give her to them, this all goes away. If we keep her, he’s going to declare war with an Elite army.”

  “We’ve been up against those odds before. You’ve fought worse wars.”

  I hear a floorboard creak. “For Una and Dante. For my family,” Nero growls. “This is different. Gabriella could not have predicted this. Had she known, she wouldn’t have asked us to protect Adelina.”

  There’s a long pause, and my heart gallops in my chest as I wait for Sasha’s response. When it comes, my heart fractures, right over the same line that my sister left. “Okay. I understand.”

  That’s it? Just okay? I’ve fought him to go to Enrique many times, but that was before. I thought…I thought he cared about me. Stupid girl, Adelina. I stagger away from the door, betrayal burrowing beneath my skin once more. Moral obligation. Sasha has a moral obligation to me.

  I’m just a job to him, but then, he told me that all along.

  18

  Sasha

  “Okay. I understand.”

  Nero frowns but says nothing.

  “Nero,” Una interrupts from her position behind the desk. Her leather boots are kicked up on the polished wood, and she plays with a knife, running her finger over the edge of the blade. So far she’s said very little, but I can feel her watching me. “We are not handing her over.”

  “We will not protect her at the cost of our family.”

  “But she is family, isn’t she, Sasha?”

  I swing my gaze to her.

  Her eyes narrow, and h
er head tilts to the side. “She’s not just a job anymore, is she, brother?”

  I turn away from her and pace across the room, bracing my hand against the wall to wall bookshelf. “I agreed to protect her.”

  “You have feelings for her.”

  She pushes to her feet, and I glare at her. Sliding her knife back in her thigh holster, she walks over to me, close enough to whisper in my ear. “I would not allow anything that would cause you pain, Sasha. You have sacrificed too much.” She steps back and swings her gaze to Nero. “She stays.”

  “No,” Nero says, and I tense. He rarely says no to her because the consequences are dire. “Are you willing to risk Dante’s life for her? Because I’m not.”

  And there it is, her weak spot; he just dug a blade straight into her jugular. Una inhales a deep breath. “There is always someone coming for us, Nero. If we can’t make a stand for Sasha, then who?” She stalks towards him. “Have you forgotten who we are, Capo?” Una slips the knife free once more, cocking a brow as she flips it over in her hand. She closes the gap between them, brushing her lips over his as she runs the tip of the knife over his jaw. “Do you need a reminder?”

  “What are you going to do with that, Morte?” And here comes their sick form of foreplay.

  If she can’t sway him with words, she’ll bribe him with sex. I’m not sure if Nero knows he’s being manipulated and lets her get away with it, or if he’s just that in love with her. Theirs is a volatile relationship.

  I roll my eyes. “If we’re done here, I’m leaving.”

  They barely even notice my departure. Theirs is a relationship founded on blood. I’m never quite sure if Una will kiss him or slit his throat, and he likes it. He’s her perfect match if there is such a thing.

  I still at the sound of raised voices further down the hallway.

  “Move!” Adelina barks.

  “Stop!” Someone else shouts.

  I jog along the hall and find Adelina in the hallway right by the front door. One of Nero’s guards is huddled on the floor, cupping his crotch. The other stands in front of Adelina, his rifle clasped across his chest.

  Footsteps sound behind me, and I glance over my shoulder just as Nero rounds the corner.

  “Lower your weapon,” Nero snaps before going to the downed man and helping him to his feet. “She’s a tiny girl, for fuck’s sake.” The irony of that statement is not lost on me because Una is even smaller than Adelina and more lethal than any of his men. The two guards skulk away, and Adelina turns to face us, making a slow retreat towards the door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m leaving.”

  I sigh. “How many times must we go through this, Adelina?”

  “I heard you. You’re going to give me to Enrique, anyway. I’m just freeing you of your moral obligation.”

  Nero lets out an exasperated breath. “I assume you can handle this?”

  “Nero,” she cuts him off. “You want me gone. I wish to leave. Why keep me here?”

  “Adelina!” I growl.

  Nero shifts closer to her. “Why would you want to go to Enrique Bianchi?”

  She squares her shoulders, and a twisted smile forms on her lips. “He killed my father. I owe him a blood debt.”

  “I’m sorry, princess, the decision has been made.”

  “None of you can get close to him! I can. If I kill him, it solves all of our problems,” she pushes, but he ignores her.

  With a pointed glance in my direction, he leaves, and then it’s just Adelina and me facing off. “What are you going to do?” I ask. “You’ll never make it past the gates.”

  She chews on her bottom lip. When I take a step forward, she lurches back. Running out of patience, I move, pinning her against the door. She struggles, so I grab both her wrists in one hand, pulling them above her head.

  “Stop.”

  “Fuck you, Sasha.” On a sigh, I bend over and pick her up, tossing her over my shoulder. “Sasha!”

  I march her along the hall and up the stairs. A series of catcalls and whistles come from somewhere down the hall, but I ignore them. I deposit her on her bed, and she glares at me through messy, tangled hair.

  I walk over to the balcony doors which are open, of course. The scent of cut grass and flowers drifts in on the unseasonably warm breeze. I inhale a deep, cleansing breath before I turn around and face her.

  “We are not giving you to Enrique.”

  She pushes to her feet. “I heard you!”

  “You heard half of a conversation!”

  Her arms fold over her chest. “Why not? Why aren’t you giving me to him? Moral obligation?”

  “No—”

  “Because if so, I’m good.”

  My patience starts to wear thin. “Adelina.”

  “I can handle myself. I don’t need your obligation.”

  “You know why!” I snap, and she falls into silence. We both stare at each other for a moment. “I told you, I will not let him have you.”

  “That was before he threatened everyone you love.”

  I shake my head. “We’ve faced worse than Enrique Bianchi. Trust me.”

  “So what now?” she asks, but I don’t know how much to tell her. “That! See, that right there. I’m done with it.” She points at me. “Stop treating me like a child.” She asked for it.

  “Okay. Bianchi wants you. If we don’t hand you over, he’s going to be at our gates in twenty-four hours with an army of Elite.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she chews on her bottom lip anxiously. “You have to let me go,” she whispers.

  “No! How many times do I have to say it? No!”

  Her face softens, anger morphing to pity and I hate it. She crosses the room, moving closer. “Sasha…”

  I close that small gap between us and grasp her jaw, forcing her to look right at me. “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Her eyes never waver from mine.

  I drop my forehead against hers, and if I’m honest, this scares me. I worry that she’ll do something stupid. I hate losing control, and Adelina is the wildest creature I’ve ever come across. Why did it have to be her, of all people? “Then please, trust that we have this.”

  “Okay,” she finally breathes. She pulls back, and those deep blue eyes lock with mine. “You know, I miss being on the run. Things were simpler.”

  They were definitely simpler. She was a job, and I was a soldier. There was nothing more than reason and responsibility between us. Now…now everything has shifted. I can’t even trust my own motivations anymore. She’s a toxic addiction that I can’t seem to quit, yet I loathe myself for being so weak.

  Stepping around her, I move towards the door. “Please don’t assault anymore of Nero’s men,” I say.

  She offers a small smile before ducking her head. I walk out, closing the door behind me.

  19

  Adelina

  I’m out of time. Twenty-four hours is not enough. Tommy has been with me all day, and I know he’s my acting bodyguard. Una, Nero, and Sasha have been preparing the house for an attack. I’ve heard talk of fifty. Cal’s on the roof, machine guns on the lawn. They’re turning the Hamptons into a warzone.

  Tommy chatters like nothing out of the ordinary is happening, but I’m lost in thought. As the afternoon ticks on, the sun drops in the sky like sand running through a timer. I can almost see it sliding through my fingers, grain by precious grain. When it finally sinks below the horizon, it feels like the falling of an axe. Time’s up.

  I wonder if Enrique is out there right now, waiting. I imagine what would happen if the Elite did get past all the security and heavy guns. Would they kill everyone? Margo? Tommy? Dante? I swallow back bile at the thought. Why can’t they see how stupid this is?

  As the clock ticks past eight, something starts to happen. I can hear the quickening of feet over floorboards as Nero’s men all flock to the front of the house.

  Una passes the kitchen doorway and pauses. “Tommy, watch
her. Keep away from the windows.”

  I have the smallest of opportunities, and I know it. Everyone is concentrated on the front of the house.

  “Come on,” Tommy jerks his head toward the doorway, and I follow him into the lounge. “What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning on the TV. He can’t be serious; they’re about to start blowing up the lawn, and he wants to watch TV.

  “I don’t mind,” I say, creeping around behind him. I carefully pick up the lamp off the side table and move closer.

  “How about—”

  I bring it down on his head, and he hits the floor. Unconscious. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. Guilt festers away at me as I pat him down, taking the gun from his chest holster. Placing a pillow under his head, I leave the living room. The back of the house is relatively quiet. Stepping into a hallway, I aim for the back door. Only when I’m close, do I see two figures.

  “No one is allowed in or out,” one of the guys says in Italian.

  Shit, shit, shit. My heart hammers, and my lungs seem to shrink. My hand trembles as I lift the gun and fire. Two bullets in quick succession. There are groans of pain as the two men roll around on the floor. I kick their weapons away. “I’m sorry!”

  Stepping over them, I open the back door and walk out into the clean night air. My breath fogs in front of my face, and when I look up, stars scatter across a crystal clear sky. On the other side of the house, I can hear the sharp crack of gunfire in rapid succession—a machine gun.