Page 73 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

Yug o glared at the closed door, fighting the gut-wrenching urge to chase after Kuon, pin him against a wall, and fuck him into senseless oblivion until he forgot how to walk, talk, or think.

He longed to erase all ideas of freedom, pride, and choice from Kuon’s stubborn head, to make sure he understood there would be no escape. Not now, not ever.

Instead, he settled into the wide leather chair, grabbed another cigarette with an unhurried hand, and lit it up as he reclined, staring into nothingness.

His mind replayed the conversation, dissecting Kuon’s facial expressions and body language—hope, concern, anger, guilt, relief, sadness, even disgust. In recent years, the former police detective had grown teeth and become maddeningly mulish, but he still wore his heart on his sleeve.

Respect… He twirled the brown cigarette between long fingers and took another drag. I respect you too much to let you act on your own.

Yugo sank his canine tooth into the side of his thumb, hating to admit that his aggression was rooted in insecurity, not a lack of respect.

Deep down, he doubted that someone like Kuon, who had a strong moral compass, could choose him, wanted to be with him.

That doubt wasn’t unfounded. Kuon still held his cards close, but Yugo had revealed half his hand.

Kuon’s outright refusal to consider entering his world and his fixation on the past, though understandable, irradiated these doubts into rapid growths, transforming them into monstrous creatures that haunted his mind.

Yugo tsked, despising that his actions stemmed from suspicion and the dread that Kuon would disappear once his desires were fulfilled, leaving Yugo consumed by impotent rage, endlessly rewatching old videos.

That would suck. Kuon, fighting him for the rest of his life, looking for ways to kill him or commit suicide, would suck even more.

Yugo remembered the captivating sounds of Kuon’s laughter.

He didn’t want that to become another thing swallowed by the past. I’ve waited three years; I can wait longer.

After all, he’s still here. That should mean something.

The door flung open as Greg barged in. His body froze in an awkward, half-tilted pose, his bull neck craned forward as he fixed his heavy gaze on his boss. Yugo recoiled from the intrusive peer, shrinking into the backrest and losing his train of thought.

“Stop it. You’re creeping me out.”

Greg shrugged, his mouth flattening into a white line in a desperate attempt to hold back a grin. “Just checking to see if you need some more ice.”

“I’m fine.” Yugo pointed the burning tip of his cigarette at his right-hand man. “What did you want earlier?”

“Eh… nothing important.”

“Hm… heard from Tobias?”

Greg shrugged again, his big hands clasped behind his back. He made a circular motion with his chin that could be interpreted as yes, no, maybe, or simply, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Not sure what that meant, Yugo said, “If he contacts you, tell him I’m looking for him. And track Mio down. I don’t like this.”

This time, the nod was clear and firm. Yugo squinted, finding Greg’s behavior odd, but shrugged it off and waved him away.

When Greg turned and grabbed the doorknob, Yugo grimaced and added, “Kuon was babbling some nonsense about his friend getting shot. A sniper rifle, he said.”

“A rifle?” A corner of Greg’s mouth twitched in amusement as he looked over his shoulder. “Is he some king’s bastard or something?”

“I know, right?” Yugo snorted and flicked ash into the ashtray. “Check what the police have. Something tells me Kuon won’t let it go.”

“How does Kuon even know?”

“Don’t know yet. He was too hissy to ask.”

With a huff, Greg left the room, only to return twenty minutes later, grim and serious. Yugo rose from his seat.

“Mio’s phone is off, but the last location was Tobias’ home. The rifle shot, though… Boss, you gotta see this.” A pile of printed papers landed onto the desk.

It only took Yugo a glance at the top sheet to realize what Greg meant. His fingers clenched into fists, eyes narrowed. “Get the car ready. Let’s pay Tobias a visit. Now.”

When the familiar scent of lemon antiseptic made him sneeze, Kuon realized his wandering had ended in the bedroom. His cheek twitched as he admitted that Yugo’s words had hit the mark. His soul teemed with doubt.

Manipulative bastard, how do you always find the right words to make me listen? Am I really that simple?

He shook his head and shuffled to the window, palms curling around the edge of the windowsill as he looked outside. Beyond the rain trickling down the glass, the black forest crackled with lightning. It looked dark, fascinating, and dangerous. Like Yugo’s eyes.

You or no one? Don’t make me laugh by demanding what you wouldn’t do yourself.

Kuon dropped his chin to his chest, biting his lips as an acoustic flashback zapped through him. “Because I don’t want to fight you for the rest of my life, and I’m not ready to give up.”

Don’t say things you don’t mean… What will you do if I believe you? More importantly, what should I do now? Leave?

Kuon visualized the long drive through the wet forest, rain bombarding the roof of the car.

Once the road reached the city, the dreary, slippery, muddy surface would give way to reflective asphalt.

He would rent a hotel room and fall asleep with the TV on to chase away his nightmares.

A cold bed, familiar with too many strangers, would smell like a neutral detergent.

Within a week, he’d find his own place and a job.

Steady and lonely, his life would fade into the sunset, one day a clone of another.

The highlight of each day would be brief moments of weakness in the shower, when he touched himself, thinking of Yugo’s hands, lips, and scent.

For the rest of my sad life… I wonder if he’ll watch those videos for the rest of his?

Rage licked at his heart. This is fucking stupid!

Doing something you know I won’t forgive, yet expecting me to do it anyway?

For what? So cruelty becomes a permanent part of my life, and you remind me of this one mistake with Rick whenever you’re angry?

Kuon lowered his head, feeling darkness thicken in his chest. His pride flared, refusing to accept a mere verbal apology. Not after the canine dildo incident.

No, an apology won’t be enough. Everything has to change for anything to work. If it could work at all. Even if I manage to forgive you, will you ever forgive me?

Kuon doubted it.

Won’t hurt me, my ass… I don’t fucking believe you.

He glared at the bed, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the room. The downpour made going outside impossible, so he retreated to the white room and pulled out his smartphone.

If Yugo wanted him to call this place home, he would have to learn to respect Kuon’s personal space and wishes. Right now, Kuon needed to know who had shot Rick and why.

He considered calling Gray for help but immediately rejected the idea. If Rick wanted to involve him, he would do that himself.

His fingers punched in the phone number for the Homicide Department, though his mind couldn’t quite recall it.

It took him half an hour to get through to his former boss, Chief Superintendent Huber, better known as Uber.

For another half an hour, Kuon dodged questions about his disappearance and whereabouts with elusive half-truths, then requested a copy of the police report on the attempted assassination of Richard Kainz.

After receiving a promise of a callback, Kuon hang up but kept staring at the blank screen, unsure what to do next.

His gaze mindlessly scanned the crime board when the rumble of an engine merged with thunder, alerting him to someone’s departure.

Driven by a surge of agitation, he rushed out of the room, stumbled down the stairs, and caught the elbow of a senior housekeeper, spinning on his heel to stop himself from going any further.

“Where’s Yugo?”

“Just left with Greg.” She confirmed his suspicion without flinching, then carefully pulled her arm from his grasp, her face as robotic and emotionless as always. “Dinner will be ready soon. Would you like it served in your room?”

Kuon blinked at her, stunned as the conflict between his actions and feelings caught up with him.

He scowled, took a step back, then another, staring at the housekeeper as if she had grown a second head.

Then he snorted and shook his head at the absurdity of his own actions, before going back upstairs.

What the hell am I doing? Didn’t I want to stay out of his business? Where he goes and for how long isn’t my concern.

He yanked open the door to the white room, stepped inside, and blocked it with his back.

Then why the hell am I so frustrated? Not that I expect him to report to me, right? Ridiculous.

Still, he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm, making something pop under his fingers.

What if it’s another weeks-long business trip? Would he even tell me? Will it always be like this if I stay?

He puffed out his cheeks, then slumped onto the mattress, and rolled over to face the all-too-familiar ceiling.

“I’m ridiculous…” he said, then turned toward the wall and closed his eyes. Maybe I really don’t know what I want. Or… do I just want too much? Have I become greedy? Sucks…

Greg whistled as soon as they stepped over the threshold of Tobias’ living quarters, taking in the smashed screens, some covered in black paint.

The graffiti sprawled across the walls, slashed the leather couch with a couple of crosses, zigzagged across the fluffy carpet, and disappeared under the opposite door. “Someone will be dead by night.”

“Shut up,” Yugo growled, following the paint marks into the living room, where broken glass crunched under his shoes and something sticky was spilled all over the expensive parquet floor.