by Rina Kent
As soon as we stop in front of the house, she climbs out without saying a word.
I follow after and grab her by the arm. She swings around so fast, her hand lays on my chest for balance.
“What?” There’s subtle wariness in her tone that I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t so attuned to her physical reaction. It’s almost as if she’s scared, but of what? Who?
I palm her cheek and she remains as still as a statue, her breathing crackling before she whispers, “What is it?”
“Do you remember when I told you there are times when you have to make drastic decisions?”
She gulps, her throat working with the motion. It takes everything in me not to grab her by that throat and kiss the fuck out of her until I bruise her delicate lips. I should really get a fucking trophy for abstaining the past week. Having her by my side and not touching her is bloody blasphemy. However, she’s been weak and doesn’t eat properly, so I will wait until she’s in better shape. Because the next time I fuck her, she’ll be all in like usual.
“I don’t. I have no memories, remember?”
The fucking memories.
I try telling myself I’ll make her learn everything about us and, with time, she’ll remember me, but the fact remains: I loathe this feeling.
I was never a nobody in Rai’s life, not even when we lived continents apart, so being a nobody to her now is like a black hole. With every passing day, that hole gets bigger, wider, deeper, and it’ll eventually drag me to its bottom if I let it.
That’s why I’ve been telling her pieces of my life I didn’t offer before. I’m even mentioning my real parents when everyone else thinks Igor is my father. My logic was simple: if she gets to know me better, maybe she’ll understand my motives and eventually remember me.
“I once said that when you’re cornered and have no way out except if you hurt others, that’s exactly what you should do, Princess.”
“What made you have that philosophy?”
“I’ve been in such a situation before, and I figured the only method to get out of it alive was if I kill my way out. Sure, I could’ve come up with a more traditional method, but that’s not how the world works.”
“So you solve all your problems by using that philosophy?”
“Most of the time.”
“But there are some times where you don’t use it?”
Yes. There are times like these where I want to throw everything into the air, carry her in my arms, and go far away from this world and all the tragedies associated with it.
Instead of telling her that, I brush my lips against hers for the briefest second before I claim her mouth. Her taste is both an aphrodisiac and an adrenaline wave. She makes me feel like everything is possible, including the part where I will whisk her with me once my mission is complete.
Rai doesn't kiss me back or wrap her arms around me, but she opens her lips the slightest bit, allowing me to feast on her tongue and drink in her scent.
Jesus fucking Christ. She’s the best thing I've ever had the pleasure of tasting, and if the bulge in my trousers is any indication, I’m more than ready for more.
I pull away to not fuck her over the hood of the car. While I’m completely fine with the public setting, I might have to gouge out the eyes of every fucking guard who looks at her, and that’s just extra work with no pleasure.
Rai stares at me funny as if she’s searching for something on my face or relearning my features all over again.
I allow her explorations, but only because I also want to study her and engrave her expression to memory so whenever I think of her or crave to touch her, I’ll have this image of her in the corner of my mind.
“Don’t you have to go back to the company?” she murmurs.
“One more moment. I haven’t gotten my fill of you.”
“Do you ever?”
“Nah, not really. So stay still.” I brush her hair behind her ear, letting the golden strands fall between my fingers. She’s been wearing it down lately, probably because she doesn’t remember her cold, stern phase, and while I love how she looks, I’m constantly in the mood to snipe down every fucker who looks in her direction.
“How long am I supposed to stay here, Kyle?”
“As long as it takes, wife.”
“Aren’t you tired of calling me your wife when I said I don’t remember the marriage?”
“Aren’t you tired of denying it when it’s the truth?”
“I can never win with you, can I?”
“You can try. I love it when you try, especially that other time when you sucked me off to snatch some power back.”
Her cheeks heat. “I did not.”
“Yes, you did, and it was hot as fuck. Mmmm. Thinking about it makes me hard.” I press the evidence against her stomach. “How are you going to deal with it, Princess?”
“If by dealing with it, you mean I’ll get rid of your dick, then sure, I’ll deal with it.”
I laugh, my head tipping back with the motion. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“And that’s funny because…”
“Because you’re only this way with me, whether you have memories or not.” I brush my lips against hers one final time. “Rest well and wait for me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m staking my claim tonight.” I wink and she swallows, heat rising to her cheeks, before she turns around and heads inside.
After I make sure she’s safely in the house, I go back to my car.
Peter, the useless guard Igor planted at my side, taps on my window. I lower it and stare at him, not bothering to hide my irritation.
He’s holding a weird gun, twirling it between his hands as he speaks. “You want me to come along?”
“No. Stay put.”
“You never take me with you these days.”
“Because you’re useless.”
“Not so useless.” He points the gun at me. “You know what this is?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll bore me to death about it.”
“It’s an anesthesia gun. It can be very powerful.”
“A bullet is more powerful, kid.” I put my window up and drive out of the property.
I have some sort of a company meeting, but I don’t give two fucks about V Corp and their nonsense strategies.
My actual meeting is with Flame. We need to plot the next attack, which, if it all goes well, will be the last.
At this point, both the Russians and the Irish have lost many soldiers and exhausted their powers. Even the fucker Damien who thinks he has endless destructive energy can’t be on the attack forever. Actually, he’s a bull who doesn’t stop unless he’s dead. If this were an ancient war, he would be the general who wouldn’t raise the white flag, even if all the other units did.
But even he can’t do one consecutive attack after the other.
At this rate, Rolan or Sergei needs a large-scale attack that will wipe out the other party’s army.
I know exactly who I want to lose the most in this war.
After a twenty-minute drive, I notice a black van following me, so instead of going to the rooftop where I agreed to meet Flame, I stop the car at the back of an abandoned warehouse.
Wires and industrialized waste are scattered all over the site, as if this place was used as the set for an apocalyptic film.
I pretend this is my final destination and lean against the car, retrieving my phone.
Kyle: I have company.
His reply comes in a second.
Flame: How could you let them follow you? What are you, an amateur?
Kyle: I didn’t let them. I stopped, didn’t I?
Flame: After they followed? Amateur.
Kyle: Piss off, arsehole.
Flame: All the better. I can’t be away from the boring club for too long. Let’s reschedule.
I’m about to hide my phone when it lights up with another text from him.
Flame: Don’t taint my name by telling anyo
ne I trained you, amateur.
That fucker.
Though, it is weird. I should’ve noticed it at the beginning, but it’s like some of my inhibitions are muted.
Slipping the phone in my pocket, I draw my gun and make sure the magazine is full.
That’s when the first one comes out.
In the beginning, I don’t recognize the face of the guard. They all wear black like members of some secret society who judge each other for not having the same grim dress code.
When the second man steps beside him, my hold tightens on the gun even though it’s still by my side.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Vladimir?”
Five more guards join him, and the seven of them surround me in a circle, all with weapons. I know for a fact Vladimir doesn’t move without a prior plan. He might seem like a stupid burly bear, but he’s far from it. He knows exactly where to hit and how to do it with the least damage possible.
The fact that he brought in so many guards for me is alarming.
“Is this some sort of a late welcome party?” I keep my tone light, jokey even. “Please tell me you brought presents.”
I grin as I stare at their faces and behind them, discreetly searching for an escape route. Since this warehouse isn’t where I intended to meet Flame, I’m not familiar with the area and, therefore, my options are limited.
What makes matters worse are the guards Vladimir brought with him; his three senior soldiers, the ones he uses for extreme torture, and there are two of Sergei’s merciless guards as well.
If he went as far as to gather the strongest he has, this is more serious than I originally anticipated.
“No presents? What happened to the Russian hospitable nature? But fine, whatever. Do I at least get something to drink at my late welcoming party? I’ll even settle for your beloved vodka today. See? I’m not so difficult.”
“You’re going to answer our questions, and you’re going to answer them truthfully.” Vladimir’s no-nonsense tone booms in the silence of the space.
“I’ll happily answer. What are your questions?” I maintain my smile, making sure it’s neither taunting nor threatening.
I don’t want to kill them, because it’d be a fucking hassle to hide the bodies and come up with excuses, but if they keep getting on my nerves, that’s exactly what will happen.
“Come with us.” Vladimir motions at the warehouse.
“I would rather we talk here. I have a thing against rusty warehouses. Do you know how many germs are in places like these?”
“Cut the sarcastic attitude and follow us.”
“I vote no.”
“This is no fucking democracy. You don’t have a choice.”
“I beg to differ. I do have a choice. In fact, I choose to walk away from here without answering any questions. You lost your chance, Vladimir.”
I attempt to leave but the guards close in on me, and I tighten my hold, calculating who to shoot first. Probably the bald head, one of Vladimir’s closest soldiers and possibly the strongest. If he’s gone, I’ll have a better chance of finishing off the others.
Vladimir shakes his head and they stop in their tracks.
What the fuck?
They don’t even retrieve their guns, remaining frozen in place.
“I said I’m leaving.” I try again and pause at the slur in my voice. I’m not the type who drinks until I get drunk, because that’s equivalent to letting my guard down and signing my own death certificate.
Back in the restaurant, I only had two glasses of wine, which I can tolerate perfectly, so what’s with the slur at the end of my speech?
“The fuuuck are you doing?” I point my gun at the bald head. “Geeet youuur weapon.”
The slur is getting worse, not better.
“Don’t waste a bullet on him,” says Vladimir—or the twin that just appeared by his side. “Our work has already been done for us.”
The gun slips from my hand and drops to the ground. It’s the first time I’ve lost control over my weapon. It’s like my hand has no strength to hold a gun.
Our work has already been done for us.
My vision blurs, and the seven men turn into fourteen. That’s when the dooming realization hits me.
I’ve been poisoned.
My body swings back and I slam against one of the guards before I fall on my knees to the ground.
As the world spins around, the pieces slowly come together.
There’s only one person who could’ve poisoned me today: the one who poured me my second glass of wine.
My wife stabbed me in the back and threw me to her pack of wolves.
9
Kyle
My eyes open slowly, my lids sticking to each other.
The first thing I notice is that I’m sitting down and completely bound to a metal chair.
Plain gray walls surround me, and rusty metal machines flicker in the corners. I shake my head; no, they’re not the ones moving—it’s my vision.
I try to move, but thick ropes hold me in place. I’m sitting on a metal chair, my hands bound behind my back and feet strapped to the metal.
This isn’t a new experience for me. With enough wiggling about, I can flip the chair backward then bend one of its legs, and once I free my ankles, I’ll have more leeway to release myself.
Before I can act on my plan, I’m surrounded by the lucky seven who captured me. They didn’t even bother to take me to one of their compounds and just moved me inside the warehouse. If the location holds no importance, then it should mean my life or death doesn’t matter.
Vladimir steps forward, handing his jacket to one of his underlings, and makes a show of rolling his sleeves to his elbows and revealing his Bratva tattoos. While doing so, he watches me with his usual grumpy, brooding expression that makes him such a bore.
“I didn’t know we were close enough to play kinky games, Vladimir. Before we start, my safe word is Let me go.” My tone is humorous, but it doesn’t camouflage the taste of betrayal burning down my throat and over my chest.
Rai didn’t only poison me, she also handed me over to her men so they’d finish the job.
I’m supposed to be mad, to let my anger take over, but any semblance of it is squashed by that fucking burning feeling.
“You’re quite edgy, aren’t you?” I continue in the same joking tone. “Is this place similar to where you usually live?”
“This will be your grave if you don’t answer our questions.”
“I don’t like knife play either. All that blood is a hassle to clean.”
“Are you done being a smart fucker?”
“I’m just communicating legitimate concerns, Vladimir. We need to have ground rules for these things.”
“Rules?” He scoffs. “Since when do you believe in those?”
“Since the Bratva. Your rules are no joke, mate.”
“I’m not your mate. Now either answer me or we’ll start with the knife you hate so much.” He pauses to drive the information home. “Who’s your insider with the Irish?”
“And I should tell you because…?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it. That’s your final warning, Hunter.”
“I know we’re doing kinky stuff, but we’re not exactly at the point in our relationship where we’d have a cheeky heart-to-heart, eh?”
Vladimir raises his fist and punches me across the face so hard, I flinch in my seat and blood explodes from my upper lip.
Motherfucker.
“This will only get worse with every wrong answer.” He tightens his fist. “What are your plans?”
“Going home to my beautiful wife. Do you think she’ll mind whatever kink we’re exercising here since she’s the one who set us up together—”
I’m cut off when he jams his fist into my face, nearly breaking my fucking nose. I gasp on air, spitting away the blood that’s gathered at my mouth.
Vladimir doesn’t seem bothered by the red that’s smudging h
is fingers, but then again, he specializes in torture, so this entire scene is his playground.
“I repeat, what are your plans?”
“I just told you. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”
He punches and kicks me in the stomach at the same time. I fall backward with the chair and hit the ground with a loud thud.
I spit blood on the ground as Vladimir’s henchman lift me up so he can hit me again, this time using both his fists as if I’m his punching bag.
While Vladimir isn’t the most reckless like Damien or the most ruthless like Adrian, he’s the most brutish and doesn’t hesitate to use his force to get what he wants.
I need to do something before he smashes my face into the ground and walks all over it, but I have no clue how much they’ve figured out. This could be a ploy to make me talk, but that’s improbable since Vladimir doesn’t move without concrete evidence.
Until I figure that out, I can take torture. Having my background comes in handy at times like these. I had torture training, which was basically being tortured until I was hallucinating and feverish and on the verge of death. After all, the only way to survive torture is to go through it.
Physical torture is nothing. I lived through it and know exactly how to handle it. Pain is concentrated in nerve endings, and the best way to get past that is to numb it. If you don’t think about it, the agonizing sensation eventually vanishes.
The pitfall in my plan is that I can’t forget the reason I’m here in the first place, the reason I am now serving as Vladimir’s punching bag.
My wife.
That type of torture is way different from a physical one. That type of torture is what has led countless men to their breaking points.
Sucking in a breath, I meet Vladimir’s gaze. While it seems like he’s watching me with a neutral expression, deep down it’s anything but. He must be celebrating the chance to finally hit me. After all, he’s hated me ever since the day I came back and snatched Rai from under his protective shield.
It’s not actually jealousy since I don’t think he’s capable of feeling romantic things, but it’s more that he thought Rai was his responsibility after he pledged to Nikolai that he’d protect her.
