He reads the text but there’s no reply.
Mia: What’s going on? Is there something wrong?
Brandon: I don’t know, Mia. Maybe you’re the one who needs to tell me what the fuck is going on.
I stare at the text with my jaw nearly hitting the floor. That doesn’t sound like Bran, especially since I’ve never heard him curse.
My screen lights up again.
Brandon: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, but I think, no, I’m ninety percent certain your brother has something to do with Lan’s disappearance. He either kidnapped or assaulted him, then threw him in a ditch somewhere. That is, if he didn’t fucking kill him. Bloody hell.
My breathing quickens as I read and reread the words.
Mia: How do you know?
Brandon: It doesn’t matter how I know. I just do. We need to do something before it’s too late.
Shit. Don’t tell me…
Maya texted me earlier, inviting me for coffee. When I said no, she kept pestering me and asking where I was exactly and saying she’d come to meet me. But when I told her that I was at Landon’s, she finally gave up.
Now, I know why my overly insistent sister who never gives up did. She was probably instructed by Nikolai to make sure I stay away so he could do whatever he wanted with Lan.
I’m already running for my keys at the entrance as I type.
Mia: Meet me at the Heathens’ mansion. Give the guards at the front my name and the code 01483.
Brandon: On my way.
I’ve never driven so fast in my life. The entire time, my mind is invaded by all sorts of bleak scenarios. None of which has a good ending.
After I arrive at the Heathens’ mansion, I go straight to the annex house that they use as some form of a torture chamber.
As expected, two buff guards and Ilya stand in front of the door like watchdogs.
Upon seeing me, Ilya steps forward. His large frame blocks the sun so that I’m staring at his poker face and unexpressive eyes. “You should go back, miss.”
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I sign, not caring that he doesn’t understand a thing.
Ilya places an arm in front of me, and I can see him struggle not to push me down like a criminal. He’s definitely under strict orders not to allow me access to the room.
I slip from beneath his hold and steal a gun from one of the other guards. I point it at Ilya and motion to the side.
He lifts his hands in the air. “You don’t want to do this, miss. It’s not your fight.”
It absolutely is my fight. All of this is happening in great part because of me.
The other part, of course, is because Landon is an asshole who can’t breathe without exhaling venom into the world.
But I’ve come to terms with that, and I foolishly thought Nikolai had, too.
I keep the gun pointed at Ilya and the others as I grab the handle of the door and slip inside.
My hand with the gun falls to my side as I stand at the entrance of a large white room with a gruesome scene in the middle.
Killian, Jeremy, and Nikolai surround Landon, who’s on his knees on the floor, his lip cut, one eye swollen shut, and blood smeared over his white shirt.
Some of it splashed on Killian’s and Jeremy’s T-shirts and Nikolai's naked chest. At this moment, my brother, who I love more than any words could describe, looks like a stranger in the form of a beast.
A weapon of destruction.
An uncontrollable entity of rage.
Landon looks up at Kill with a bloodied grin, coughs, and speaks in a hoarse voice. “Is that all you got? If you’re going to fuck up Glyn’s trust, the least you can do is make it worthwhile.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Nikolai drives his fist into his face. “You really thought we’d take the truce and let you mess around with my sister? My fucking sister? I’ll kill you before you put your hands on her again.”
“Then do it.” Landon’s provocative grin disappears. “That’s the only way you’ll keep me away from her.”
Despite the terrifying scene, I can’t help the imaginary hand that squeezes my heart and tightens my stomach.
“You’re a fucking dead man.” Jeremy kicks his side.
“Highly doubtful.” Landon’s eyes slide to mine as if he knew I was there this whole time. “Hey, little muse. I believe you should revoke Jeremy's highly underserved nice card, don’t you think?”
Three pairs of eyes turn toward me and it’s Nikolai who speaks first.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Get out.”
I throw the gun to the floor and sign as I stride toward them, “So you can continue to torture him?”
“That’s the idea,” Killian says. “Remove yourself from the situation, Mia.”
“No.”
“I don’t know what this motherfucker has been saying to you, but you can’t believe any of it,” Jeremy says.
“Like the fact that he kept his part of the deal and you didn’t? You already agreed to a truce, so why the hell are you doing this?”
“I never agreed to the fucking truce,” Nikolai speaks in a voice so tight, the veins in his neck bulge with tension. “He does not, under any circumstances, get to touch you and live.”
“But that’s not up to you!” I get in his face, my movements brimming with anger. “This is my life and I have the right to decide whoever gets in it. Neither you nor anyone else has a say in it.”
“Mia,” he growls in warning.
I glare back at him and sign more calmly now, “Let him go.”
“No.”
“My apologies for breaking up the touching family moment, but hey you, uncultured swine.” He looks up at Jeremy, who’s now twisting Landon’s right arm at an awkward angle. “I know you’re jealous you’ll never be as artistically genius as me, but you’re causing strain on my priceless hand. Let go, would you?”
“Only if you get to free fall to hell, motherfucker.”
“Let him go, Jeremy,” I sign, watching the unnatural angle he’s holding his arm in. If he twists it to the side, he’ll break his wrist and the thought of that leaves me in cold sweat.
Landon can only survive through art. If that ability is taken from him, he won’t be able to battle the demonic forces inside him. I’ve seen how calm he gets when he’s creating, how grounded and zen his expression gets.
If that’s taken away, I’m not sure where he’ll go from here.
Nikolai watches my expression closely, then he smiles, but it’s manic at best as he leans down to stare at Landon’s face. “Want to keep your arm in one piece?”
“Preferably soon, yes.”
“Then leave my sister alone. For good.”
I push at Nikolai’s shoulder, but he doesn’t look at me. My chest tightens. Fuck. He knows that’s worse than ignoring me. If he doesn’t look at me, I can’t talk to him. He’s basically silencing me in the most brutal way possible.
And it hurts worse than I’d like to admit. Especially coming from my brother, who’s always listened to me, even when I talk gibberish.
I don’t recognize this version of Nikolai. Not even a little.
“If you don’t.” Nikolai’s face turns somber. “Jeremy will break the wrist you cherish so much.”
“Choose carefully, King,” Killian says in a casual tone. “Any breaking of arm bones, especially the wrist, could prove to be fatal in an artist’s life. Take it from me. As a med student, I can confirm that bones and ligaments never go back to the way they were and you could find immense difficulty in creating anything ever again. Your bright future will be poof. Gone. In a fraction of a second.”
“Kill!” I push at his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you? If you watch as his wrist is broken, Glyn will never forgive you.”
“She’ll never find out, and even if she does, I have a better track record than her emotionless brother.”
My lips part. I always thought Landon was the worse psychopath of the two, but right now, my cousin, whom I always considered like my second brother, looks worse than the monster from my past.