Page 48 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)
Yugo stumbled into his dark office. His fingers habitually found the switch but did not press it, as the darkness eased the painful pressure behind his eyeballs.
The drowsy moonlight streaming through the uncovered window glinted off the coffee table, coating the office in bland monochrome.
Calm and quiet, unlike his bedroom, it was free of unwanted memories and invited relaxation.
Alcohol beckoned him. Given his level of exhaustion, a few glasses promised quick oblivion, so he didn’t resist temptation.
After making a detour to the bar for a bottle of whiskey, he crossed the room to the window and opened it.
The wind stormed in, creating a draft and scattering papers on his desk.
He ignored it, watching the heavy fog creep out of the birch grove.
It looked eerie in the deathly light, heralding a milky-white dawn.
The piercing dampness crawling under his clothes, accompanied by the smell of the forest floor after a light shower, sent a shiver down his spine.
Yet, instead of closing the window, he opened the bottle and poured himself a drink.
His hand twitched, and he nearly lost his grip on the glass.
The spirit splashed onto the windowsill, filling the room with the caramelized fruity scent of single malt whiskey.
He cursed, shook the wetness from his hand, and raised the glass to his lips with rapidly chilling fingers.
Liquid fire rolled down his empty stomach and spread through his veins.
Another swig followed, promising a quicker effect, but the anger clawing at his soul refused to subside.
It stirred his hunting instincts, urging him to chase Kuon down, throw him to the ground, and remind him, through pain and pleasure, who he belonged to.
It would be so easy to chain Kuon to the wall and never let him go.
Yet, he didn’t move, taking swig after swig to wash away the rotting aftertaste of disappointment.
Sleepless nights clouded his judgment, yet he feared that if he stopped, he would repeat the same mistakes he had made years ago.
Getting drunk and crashing on a couch was the most sensible idea fermenting in his head.
In his current state, he expected a few swigs to knock him out, but he kept drinking as his thoughts darkened with every minute, revolving around Kuon.
Doubts haunted him. He must have lost a few marbles if he’d allowed the former cop to snoop through his files.
He should have followed Greg’s advice—locked him up and tamed him with a carrot and stick.
As confused as he was, Kuon would have accepted his new life and eventually settled down.
He would be happy and content as long as Yugo didn’t push too hard and remained careful; that’s what Yugo’s demons kept whispering in his ears.
The more alcohol he poured down his throat, the more tempting the simple solution promising instant gratification became.
Feeling that the night’s freshness kept him too sober, he slammed the window shut and collapsed into the cold leather chair.
He set the glass aside and drank straight from the bottle, no longer bothering with manners, forcing himself to remain still.
The holster rubbed the skin under his arm, so he shrugged it off along with the jacket.
When alcohol failed to erase his thoughts, Yugo fetched a cigarette, then another, and another. The smoke thickened the air, hazing his vision and mind.
Ahh, that’s better.
A streak of light shining from under the door expanded into a large yellow triangle, then a glowing rectangle with a large black shape in the center. Yugo willed his eyes to focus, unhappy that someone dared to ruin his hard-earned mindless void.
Fresh air breaking in sent the thick wall of cigarette smoke wreathing toward the ceiling. Gray streams, reaching for the light, wrapped around the shadow that, with each passing second, resembled a familiar human figure more and more.
Yugo heaved a sigh and shielded his eyes with the whiskey bottle, hoping that Greg would get the message and vanish.
“Ugh…” Greg waved his hand in front of his face as if to drive away a bad smell, then stomped to the window. The sash creaked open, and a gust of air licked Yugo’s neck, replacing the warm, enveloping smoke with sobering, dank freshness.
Yugo groaned, took another swig, barely registering the burn of the lukewarm alcohol, then pressed the bottle to his pulsating temple. “What?”
Greg scoffed, rounded the desk, and froze, crowding Yugo’s space. His dark gaze followed Yugo’s hand as he brought the bottle to his lips. “Doc’s leaving.”
Yugo waited a long moment before concluding that solitude was no longer on the agenda, then fixed the intruder with a hard stare. “And?”
“Mio’s asleep.”
“So?” Yugo scoffed. Greg’s presence was sobering him up by the minute, and he hated it.
Greg went to the door without answering. A soft click preceded the harsh light that drove the darkness away.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” Yugo snapped, squinting through the painful light. He tried to look intimidating, but it was a difficult task with the room drifting around him. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Figured… Why didn’t you pick up? I called.”
“My damn phone got hit by karma.” The vague explanation made the corners of Greg’s wide mouth drop. Yugo fished his cell phone out of his chest pocket and waved it in the air, showing him the broken touchscreen.
“Karma?” Greg raised a bushy brow.
“Never mind…” Yugo let out a breath. “Call Rudolph and ask him to… Wait, no, Mio’s here… Just get me a new phone, and leave me alone.”
Drilling his boss with a judgmental look, Greg crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Why are you acting so dumb?”
“Dumb?” Yugo huffed at the provocative rudeness and took another swig. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, and the slight tingling returned to his veins. “This is the smartest thing I can do right now, believe me. If I stop drinking, I’ll do something far worse.”
Greg’s persistence started to get on his nerves, ruining his resolve not to chase Kuon.
“Did you promise anything to Mio?”
“Mio has nothing to do with this.” Annoyed, Yugo put down the bottle and leaned forward, fingers steepled in front of his chest.
“What about Kuon?” Greg blew a long breath as he shifted his weight from foot to foot in obvious impatience.
“What about him?” Yugo asked, and Greg’s mouth thinned into a white slash.
“There are only two ways for Kuon to stay with me—of his own free will or in shackles. I’ve already tried the latter; it didn’t work.
I didn’t kick him out. He left. What do you want me to do? Beg him or beat him blind and stupid?”
“No, but…”
“I can’t keep him locked in a padded room with plastic cutlery for the rest of his life.
Or rather, I don’t want to…” Yugo raised his hand to silence his subordinate and grimaced as thoughts clad in words clogged his throat.
He’d thought about it countless times. It was an easy and tempting solution, but he still remembered the mindless sex, Kuon’s dull eyes, and the emotional stagnation caused by captivity.
That was no longer enough, for Yugo had become greedy.
He needed Kuon’s every emotion, every expression.
Having tasted what it could be like with Kuon without the use of brute force, he didn’t think he could settle for less.
He needed all or nothing. “How much did he see? Everything?”
Greg scanned the room. “I suppose. I didn’t supervise him, but more than enough.”
“Thought so… If I force him again, especially now, how do you think this will end?” Yugo grabbed the bottle, took another swig to wet his parched throat, and answered his own question. “With a murder or a broken spirit.”
“Will you just let him walk?”
Yugo shrugged.
“I wonder if that’s for the best?” Greg shook his head, obviously unconvinced, so Yugo continued, “Even if he didn’t break into the damn room, I’d have to involve him in the business eventually.
As long as he’s with me, a normal job is out of the question for him.
Can someone like Kuon stay locked in a room for more than a few days and be content?
He said that’s what he wanted, but that’s not true.
One day, he would have to accept what I do or leave.
He made his choice. I just regret I didn’t have time to prepare him for it.
So leave me alone, or I’ll do something really dumb. ”
“Wow, you’ve matured…” Shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking from toes to heels, Greg shared his observation. Not a muscle in his face twitched, but Yugo knew he was fighting back a grin.
“Are you fucking with me?”
“I wouldn’t dare, Boss. Come with me. I think you need to see something.” Greg nodded toward the door and, without waiting for Yugo to follow, strolled out. “Leave the bottle.”
Yugo grabbed his jacket from the back of the seat and followed him out.
Yugo froze in the doorway, reluctant to enter Kuon’s former prison. His hand patted his pants and chest pockets, and he groaned in frustration, realizing he’d left his cigarettes in the office. Licking his parched lips with an equally dry tongue, he croaked, “I’m too sober for this…”
Greg grunted, drifting past the clusters of media pinned to the walls.
Fragments of newspapers, printed dossiers, and photographs were jumbled but still in order.
On the left wall, the evidence board was tangled with red thread, connecting the media annotated in black.
On the right wall was a detailed map of something Yugo didn’t want to remember.
The longer Yugo stared at this outrageous display, the darker his already sullen mood became.
“What the…” His voice broke. He rubbed his throat with his hand to help the uncooperative word pass through the invisible barrier, “…hell?”