I grab Nikolai by the nape and wrench him back, forcing him to release Ilya.
“This isn’t the time for inner conflict.” I stare at my friend. “If Ilya wanted to give them something, he would’ve handed over the mansion’s blueprint, including the newly installed security cameras. And he wouldn’t have stayed during the fire or saved Gareth.”
“The motherfucker could’ve been faking it.”
“Enough.” I exert pressure on Nikolai’s neck. “We should focus on making them pay your way.”
Light shines in his usually dead eyes and he smirks. “You can’t take that back. We’ll do it my way and you’ll tell those fuckers Kill and Gaz to obey me.”
“After I plan it.”
“Do your thing. But I’ll use explosives.”
“Explosives will get the authorities’ attention. No.”
“You said my way.”
“Anything but explosives.”
I’m sure he’ll come up with an equally screwed-up method, and I’ll allow it.
Those fuckers deserve whatever wrath Nikolai has planned.
And I will watch as their blood stains the streets.
After we get home, I stop at the front of the mansion to look at the fully burned east side. Some workers are already moving like bees, cleaning the space in preparation for renovating it.
We came out of the incident unscathed. Yes, I almost died, but something worse could’ve happened. Like losing my sister and the only friends I’ve had my whole life.
After taking a shower and changing my clothes, I go to my Annika’s room and knock on the door. This is a temporary one since her purple princess room is being cleaned.
“Come in,” she says with utter boredom from the other side.
I stroll in to find her lying on the bed on her stomach, legs in the air and phone in her hand.
Annika is the spitting image of Mom. They have the same long brown hair, petite features, and an elegant aura that it feels like I have a mini version of my mother with me.
Their similarities end on the physical level, though. Where Mom is soft-spoken and demure, Annika is extroverted to a fault, never stops talking, and has the energy of a bunny on crack.
Upon seeing me, she jumps up, throws her precious phone away, and inspects me. “Are you okay? Should you be moving? And why did you go jogging when the doctor said you should be resting?”
“Breathe, Annika.” I clutch her by the shoulder. “I’m fine.”
She narrows her eyes, observing me further, definitely not believing a word I said.
Since she was born when I was six, I’ve considered it my mission to protect her with my life. The fact that I couldn’t last night has been chipping away at a part of me.
“Enough about me. Are you okay, Anoushka? Do you need anything?”
“Aside from being set free of my Rapunzel tower? I don’t think so.”
I ruffle her hair. “It’s for your security.”
“Oh, please. You just like locking me up.” She swats my hand away. “And stop treating me like a kid.”
“No,” I say point-blank, and she makes a face.
“Come on, Jer.” She takes my hand in hers. “At least let me go to the dorm. I miss the girls so much, and they’re worried sick about me after they heard about the fire.”
The girls. Including, but not exclusive to, Cecily.
“No.”
“Jer!” she whines. “Please. You know how hard it was for me to make friends, and these girls really like me despite my status as a mafia princess and my last name. I can’t just lose them.”
“There will be no going back to the dorm temporarily.”
“You’re so heartless.” She drops my hand as if it’s an expired object. “I pity the girl who will have to marry you.”
“I was going to let you have lunch with your friends, but since I’m heartless…” I shrug.
“Oh, don’t be silly. You know I was kidding!” Annika laughs and lunges at me with a koala embrace. “Thanks, Jer!”
“You’ll be escorted by guards,” I tell her with a hand on her back.
“Okay!” She jumps down and disappears into her closet, probably to pick a dress from the hundred purple ones she owns.
Shaking my head, I step out and pause when my phone vibrates.
The name on the screen shouldn’t be there.
It should’ve been deleted, but it wasn’t.
I shouldn’t have been reading and rereading her last text about the manga that I stole from her room that night.
It’s that fucking obsession that I can’t shake.
Cecily: I heard about the fire. Are you okay?
I stare at her words or, more like, glare at them.
Why the fuck would she act so worried when she’s obviously hung up on someone else?
But then again, since when do I care about that?
I gave her a chance to escape me, but she didn’t take it.
If I want to own her, I will.
When I’m done with her, no other fucking man will be on her mind.
17
CECILY
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re ghosting me, Cecy.”
I take a slurp of my energy drink and try to remain cool and unaffected, despite Lan’s shoulder that’s nudging mine.
At Remi’s and Ava’s insistence, our group of friends have gotten together for drinks at a pub downtown.
The big table in the middle of the room overflows with drinks, chatter, side-nudges and the general hyper energy that takes place whenever we’re together.
Remi dragged Bran and Creigh along, and Ava got me and Glyn to join.
Anni would’ve loved to be here as well, but she still hasn’t gained back her full freedom and has to be monitored at all times by her guards. She’s also been staying in the Heathens’ mansion.
I would rather not be in a place that’s buzzing with people, loud music, and sensory chaos, but I’m willing to do it instead of letting Ava get drunk and have no one to take care of her after.
Also, anywhere is a better place than my head.
I just didn’t count on Lan joining us because A, he doesn’t hang out in our circle and has his own entourage; and B, I really don’t want to talk to him after the fire episode at the Heathens’.
That was a week and a half ago, and I still feel that burning sensation down my throat whenever I swallow.
Another tap on my shoulder, a subtle nudge, and the feeling of his breath down my neck.
I stare at Lan, who looks dashing in his casual clothes without him making an effort. It’s the easygoing grin and the aristocratic features. He shares them with his twin brother, but Bran appears elegant and sophisticated.
He’s nothing more than a devil.
“What do you want, Lan?”
“Don’t sulk over such a trivial issue.”
“Trivial,” I whisper-yell so the others don’t hear. “Did you just call arson trivial?”
“No one got hurt.”
“Jeremy did.” My chest squeezes, as is the case whenever I think about him.
“Meh. He survived.” Lan’s blank gaze remains in place, and I come to the bitter realization that I really don’t know this man.
I’ve spent twenty years in his orbit and about three years crushing on him, and yet I have no clue who the hell he is.
“He was hurt, Lan,” I repeat. “He was injured and needed medical attention.”
“He still survived like a cat with nine lives. Also, hold on, why are you getting so worked up about Jeremy? Don’t you hate him?”