Page 54 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)
Yugo struggled to keep his slipping mask of dispassion, but a telltale flush crept into his cheeks. The muscles in his jaw bulged, and a low voice broke through his pale lips. “Stop provoking me. Get dressed, or I’ll drag you out of here naked. Last warning.”
“I’m not—” A shadow eclipsed the doorway, cutting him off.
Relief surged through Kuon, only to vanish the next instant. As if seeing something in Kuon’s eyes, Yugo whirled to the door.
Rick’s bloodshot eyes flashed with hate, teeth gleaming on his red face. He growled and lunged at Yugo, a kitchen knife glinting in his hand, its blade pressed flat against his inner wrist.
Time slowed in Kuon’s mind. In movies, fights dragged on for minutes; in reality, less than a minute. Knife fights ended even faster. No matter how skilled or trained Yugo was, a single stab could send him to the hospital or straight to hell.
Kuon wanted to part ways, but not like this.
Rick flicked the blade forward, aiming at Yugo’s chest. Kuon’s heart dropped.
“No, Rick!” Palm on the floor, he leaped forward, assessing every last detail of both opponents, deciding what to do next.
Their weight and height difference, the length of their limbs and fingers, and even the knife—all tipped the scales in Rick’s favor. Logically, Yugo needed Kuon’s protection. So why did Kuon want to shield Rick with his own body?
He took a closer look. Something was wrong with Rick. His leg dragged, his torso tilted off balance. His movements were slower than usual, as if he were fighting through the same feeling of sluggishness that Kuon had experienced before.
Cold sweat broke out on Kuon’s back as the knife sliced through the air, a close shave from Yugo’s stomach. Rick didn’t take the chance to cut his legs or arms. He went for the kill, finishing the lunge with his usual short jab combo.
In such close quarters, it was physically impossible to keep any distance. From his movements, Yugo understood that his only chance to win was to stay out of Rick’s reach.
Yugo’s elegant black shoes with shiny toes looked strangely out of place as he tried to break one of Rick’s knees with his heel. His square black cufflink glinted as Yugo lunged and grasped Rick’s wrist.
Rick switched the knife to his other hand and thrust the blade forward, aiming under Yugo’s ribs, but only causing his opponent to scoot aside.
How the hell did it come to this? And why? Kuon watched Yugo move with severe brutality. There was none of the playfulness Kuon knew from their sparring, no lazy drag in Yugo’s punches. This was no friendly sparring match or game of dominance. It was simply a way to eliminate a problem.
Rick hissed, drawing Kuon’s attention to himself and his battered body. He rubbed the bloody line on his neck with bloodless fingers. It told a gruesome tale of an attempted strangulation, painting a vivid picture of preceding events in Kuon’s mind.
The chilling realization that he was watching a murder in progress made his stomach churn.
But before he could recover from the shock, Rick attacked again.
Pummeling Yugo with high and low kicks, he accompanied his onslaught with hooks and uppercuts, their reach extended by the length of his blade.
His every move left openings for Yugo to grab and throw him to the ground—something that would have ended both the fight and Yugo’s life in seconds. The Black Duke refused the fatal bait.
Kuon limped forward. His arm wrapped around Yugo’s throat as he yanked him back and away, taking his place. His palm slammed into Rick’s heated chest, forcing more distance between him and Yugo.
“Enough, Rick,” he growled, but Rick’s eyes were insane as he charged at Yugo. His shoulder slammed into Kuon’s as he rammed through, sending Kuon’s feet sliding across the floor, unable to find a foothold. “I said, stop!”
A cold hand from behind landed on his forehead and jerked him backward, forcing a painful arch in his spine.
Yugo’s ankle tripped him, restoring the original arrangement where he was face to face with Rick, and Kuon landed back on the floor.
At the last moment, the former cop twisted in the air, using his palms to cushion his landing instead of hitting the ground with his shoulder blades.
The toe of Yugo’s shoe stabbed painfully under his ribs, rolling him out of the way.
“Stay down,” Yugo growled through controlled pants, but Kuon was already scrambling to his feet.
He reached for Rick’s hand at the same moment the blade tore the fine fabric of Yugo’s jacket.
“You want to go to jail? Get back!” Kuon yelled, intercepting Rick’s armed hand and slamming it against his own knee.
At the same time, he blocked Yugo’s fist that flew at his head, where Rick’s throat had been a moment ago.
The knife fell to the floor. Kuon kicked it away, hissing as the blade grazed his injured big toe.
Pain shot up his leg, making it buckle. The room swirled as someone shoved him in the shoulder.
A stray fist landed on his ribs and an elbow slammed into his ear.
He lost all sense of up and down as he tumbled onto his ass but surged back up the next instant.
Yugo wrapped his forearm around Rick’s neck and locked him in a chokehold.
“I said, enough!” Kuon tore the sheet off the bed and threw it over Yugo’s head. He yanked back with all his might, trying to break the fight.
“Stay down,” the Black Duke growled. The sheet slipped off his head as he ducked toward Kuon, throwing Rick to the ground as he did.
A headbutt to the solar plexus knocked the air out of Kuon’s lungs.
Surprise and disappointment flashed through his mind as his foot got caught in the fabric and his balance shifted.
The room swirled. The last thing he saw was Rick’s face being slammed into the floor, before something sharp shattered his skull into a million pieces, stealing the light.
Lilac dawn smeared transparent clouds across the narrow band of sky above the black forest. Tall, pointy pines plucked the last blinking stars from the vault, while the waning moon still struggled to hold sway over the brightening sky.
Yugo’s gaze roamed over the landscape, but he saw none of it. He hardly noticed anything but the bitter taste of cigarettes and the alcohol burning in his throat.
His hands itched to grab a gun, put a bullet in Kuon’s stomach, then sit by his side, watching him die in agony.
Only, he already knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.
Kuon’s loss of consciousness after hitting his head paralyzed him with dread.
Without checking whether Rick was still breathing, he frantically grabbed Kuon’s limp body, dragged him out of the apartment, and ordered Greg to drive to the hospital.
Even after Kuon regained consciousness, Yugo found no peace.
He paced up and down the corridor, waiting for Kuon to be examined.
The doctor’s report confirmed Kuon hadn’t suffered any serious injuries other than a mild concussion, exhaustion, dehydration, and tissue inflammation on the soles of his feet that caused a slight fever. Still, Yugo couldn’t relax.
Kuon’s reactions had been slow, and he was unsteady on his feet, as if drunk.
He held his hand over his injured temple and looked at Yugo as if he didn’t recognize him.
He observed his surroundings with the same lack of recognition.
What disturbed Yugo the most was the absence of fight or curiosity about his friend’s fate, and Kuon’s inability to keep his eyes open.
In that blue corridor stenching of alcohol rub and disinfectant, Yugo realized how much power over himself he had surrendered to Kuon. The thought plagued him.
To calm his nerves, he fished a new cigarette out of his chest pocket and lit it, giving himself time to filter through his tangled emotions.
Despite his determination not to look at the cause of his madness, he couldn’t help but glance in the rearview mirror. The motionless, naked body lay on the seats, the constellations of hickeys glowing on pale skin.
I can’t fucking believe it… An ironic snort broke through Yugo’s clenched teeth.
The banality of the situation was almost funny because he’d never imagined that something like this could happen to him, the Black Duke—one of the most fearsome men in Vienna, if not in all of Europe.
Have I been so lenient to you that you have forgotten how to fear me?
If so, I will remind you. A do g that bites the hand that feeds it usually licks the boot that kicks it.
The ache at the back of his head worsened. He forced a cloud of bittersweet smoke into his lungs, unable to stop staring at the parted thighs.
Kuon slept, unaware of how close he’d come to dying today.
The carmine marks glowed on his skin, sparking a desire to cut out every hickey and sew up the wounds.
Or maybe it would be easier to flay Kuon alive?
That would certainly rid his body of all signs of another man’s presence.
The realization washed Yugo in sweat. His fingers twizzled the cigarette in anticipation.
Gray wisps of smoke curled around his hand, slipped out of his mouth in a thin arrow.
His hands thirsted for Kuon’s blood; his soul yearned for his pain and remorse, as fire and cold clashed in a deadly battle within his heart.
Amid the screams of pure agony, he would have drawn a map of bruises, wounds, and scars across Kuon’s body so he’d never stray from the path paved with loyalty, obedience, and submission.
He would have destroyed him… burned all thoughts of escape from his mind…
bathed him in blood and pain… made him suffer until all fight drained from Kuon and he couldn’t go on without him.