But I don’t look at the view.
I don’t give a fuck about anything beautiful. In fact, I find nothing beautiful.
Everything pretty is destined to wither and die. To shrivel and vanish.
So why find anything beautiful in the first place? That’s setting oneself up for disappointment without even trying.
I fish out my phone to find a long conversation in the Heathens’ chat group.
Nikolai: Did that motherfucker just leave us hanging?
Gareth: He must’ve had something urgent to do. Jeremy isn’t the type to leave without a reason.
Nikolai: I say we vote him down. The audacity of that motherfucker. How dare he wake me up for nothing?
Killian: And who should we put in his place? You?
Nikolai: You shut it, Satan’s heir. And what’s wrong with me becoming a leader?
Killian: The same thing that’s wrong with putting a clown as the head of the CIA.
Nikolai: Did you just call me a clown?
Killian: I didn’t. You did.
Nikolai: I’m sorry, Gaz, but I’m killing your brother tonight. Please prepare the funeral and don’t tell Aunt Reina that I’m behind the hit. We’ll say the enemies got him.
Gareth: He’s your cousin. Do as you like.
Killian: Hilarious, big bro. Not. @Nikolai Sokolov if you’re going to lie, pick something believable. No one would bite at the fact that I have enemies.
Nikolai: Bullshit. You’re a devil in disguise.
Killian: Keyword being in disguise. Everyone loves me. The only one with enough enemies to make the Queen of England kick us off UK soil is you.
Nikolai: I don’t go out of my way to make enemies, but if they come knocking, I’ll be serving.
Gareth: Is that why you sent two people to the ER last week?
Nikolai: Not my fault they were flexing muscles they didn’t have. I did visit them and gave them fruit baskets and shit.
Killian: You sure you were in the hospital for them and not that erectile dysfunction you had?
Nikolai: The only erectile dysfunction is you. I told you it was a lack of fucking interest and showed you proof, motherfucker.
Killian: Must’ve forgotten. Didn’t happen. Feeling in the mood to tell others about it.
Nikolai: That’s it. You and me, outside. Now.
Gareth: Kill is messing with you because you might have talked to Glyn for more than five minutes and he hates that. And stop it, Kill, otherwise, he’ll flood the group chat with dick pics to prove he doesn’t have ED.
Nikolai: Taking one as we speak.
*Killian left the group chat*
Gareth left the group chat
Nikolai: Hey! Where did everyone go? Whatever. Here’s one in your honor when you come back, Jer. You know I don’t have ED, right?
I leave the group chat before I’m bombarded with his ‘proof.’
He’s extra like that.
Now, I need to figure out an excuse for why I left them during a strategy meeting that doesn’t include ‘I was a raging volcano because Cecily sent me a DM that was probably supposed to be for Landon.’
Fuck.
They’d have a field day if they found out I was interested in a girl. If I said it was only to keep her under surveillance, they would call bullshit.
They’ve known me all their lives and they know I don’t put forth effort to get my dick wet. I don’t spend weeks stalking and following and being the creep she labeled me to be.
That’s just not my modus operandi.
And for that reason, they’ll remain in the dark about my endeavors with the little fox. These strong feelings of interest will eventually wane.
My phone vibrates and I straighten before I answer. “Dad.”
“Son.” My father’s voice with a slight Russian accent fills my ear.
It’s past midnight in New York, but Dad doesn’t sleep much. A trait I inherited.
“You need anything?” he asks.
That’s what Dad’s always been. Efficient. Our relationship wasn’t built on affection or care like Mom and Annika’s.
We’re just two efficient beings who are interested in the bigger picture.
But he cares in his own way. My father’s love languages are protecting us, slaughtering our demons for us, and making sure no one bothers us.
But since I grew into my role as his heir, the slaughtering demons part is exclusive to Annika. In fact, I’ve joined him in that endeavor.
We’re Mom’s and Annika’s guardian angels.
Though, realistically, we’re fallen angels who are campaigning for Lucifer’s throne in Hell.
I let my gaze get lost in the horizon as I speak in a businesslike manner. “Nothing is amiss.”
“I heard you’re taking on a new guard who used to be with the Serpents, is that true?”
By heard, he means his guards that he sent with me both to protect me and report back told him.
Asking me if it’s true is a mere courtesy.
“Yeah. His name is Ilya Levitsky. I’ve done my background check on him and he’s a good kid.”
“We don’t need good kids in our line of work, Jeremy. Besides, how do you know he’s not a spy?”
“I tested him. Gave conflicting information and waited for him to fall into the trap, but he didn’t. He’s a good kid, Dad. As in, a loyal one. He had the chance to betray the Serpents to join us, but he didn’t. He took the punishment, got flogged and left.”
“Which could all be a masquerade to fool you.”
“I’m considering that option, but it isn’t viable. He…wants to follow a leader he respects.”
One of the things that surprised me in the speech Ilya gave when he started working for me a couple of weeks ago. I knew people feared me, but it was the first time someone said they respected me.
“Or he plans to stab you in the back.”
Dad’s most authentic, but sometimes over-the-top trait, is being utterly distrustful.
It’s something I inherited, too, but not to the extent he exhibits. Instead of completely cutting out others from the start, I give them a chance. Once they betray it, they’re out.
Killian says that’s risky, but nothing good in life comes from hibernating and cutting off the outside world.
“Dad.” I speak firmly. “You had the chance to choose Kolya as your right-hand. I’m asking for the same.”
“Kolya was planted by your grandfather to spy on me when we were kids. I converted him.”
“I’ll convert Ilya, too. Aren’t you the one who told me loyal men are hard to find and if I stumble upon one, I should keep him?”
“That’s true. Well played, son.” A note of pride slips into his tone.
“All thanks to you.”
A small pause of silence hangs between us before he says, “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Your mother is worried about you and is concerned you’re slipping away. Call her sometime.”
“Will do.”
I click the End button and stare at the soft glow of the sun in the distance.
It’s a mixture of yellow and orange, but appears gray.
Black, even.
Despite my best efforts, none of this suffocation is disappearing. If anything, it’s thickening and growing in density.
I should blow off steam in a different way.
This time, with the person behind this fucking mess.
I send Cecily a location, then follow with a text.