Page 8

KIRILL

I t’s not enough.

Not the killing spree.

Not the torture.

Not the lead that I’m following to lure out the person who gave that information to the Albanians.

Nothing is enough.

Especially not the fucking torture.

I’d planned to keep Roel alive for eternity as I tortured him to my heart’s content, but I slipped, and he died on me only two weeks after I captured him.

My feet are heavy as I take the stairs to the house. A jacket is slung over my shoulder, and my glasses are blurry with remnants of the scum’s blood.

A gasp reaches my ear before I look up to see Karina running down the stairs, a hand muffling her mouth.

Unlike her usual pink girly dresses, she’s now in unflattering black pants and a hoodie. Her hair is gathered in a messy bun, and her face is makeup-free.

My sister stops in front of me looking like a shadow of her former self. Bloodshot eyes. Dark circles. Ghostly pale face.

“Are you okay? What’s with all the blood?”

I mechanically look down at myself and realize my shirt is bloodied, and so are my hands. I must’ve forgotten to wash up. I’m forgetting many things lately. The world is starting to look like a black loop of nothingness that I couldn’t put an end to even if I tried.

It could be the lack of sleep, or the fact that everything is empty and desolate. If I sleep properly, I might be tempted to never fucking wake up.

“It’s not mine.” I start to bypass Karina, but she blocks my path again. “What is it?”

Her lips tremble, and she chews on her dry bottom one. The flesh splits, and a strip of blood appears in the middle. “You’re looking like you’ll collapse. You should get some rest.”

“Go to sleep, Kara.”

“I can’t.” Her voice turns brittle. “All I think about is how Sasha felt before…before she was killed and…and I can’t sleep or eat or bring myself to do anything. He…no, she was my only friend.”

She.

Right. The name I wrote on her grave indicates that Sasha was a woman and my wife.

The wife I couldn’t fucking protect.

Viktor took the time to explain the complicated situation to my family members.

Me? I don’t give a fuck what any of them thinks.

I don’t even give a fuck about the future anymore. I used to see patterns, paths, and courses of action. I used to be motivated by all the goals I had yet to crush.

Now, I only see fucking black.

I spent my whole life carefully building a house of cards, but Sasha’s death has caused it to fall apart.

Karina throws her arms around my waist and squeezes the living fuck out of me. “If I feel this way, then it must be worse for you. She was always with you and…you married her so…so…”

I grab her by the shoulder and push her away. Nausea rises in my throat at the reminder of the last hug Sasha gave me.

And I refuse to let anyone else take that memory.

My wife loved this cheesy shit. She loved hugging me and trying to comfort me. She also loved singing and kissing. But then she left and took away her hugs, her smiles, and even her infuriating arguing.

The idea of being hugged makes me want to stab myself in the fucking gut and watch as my blood pours out.

Tears stream down Karina’s cheeks. “I just…I just wanted to console you.”

“Don’t. I need no such thing.”

“You…really don’t?”

“I really don’t. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Fuck you, Kirill! How can you be perfectly fin e after she died? She dedicated her whole life to you! The least you can do is fucking mourn her properly, you fucking asshole!” She punches, claws, and slaps my chest.

I don’t stop her. I don’t have the energy to do anything.

My sister cries and curses me all the way to the moon and back as she lets out her anger and frustration on me.

I feel nothing.

Absolutely fucking nada.

“Kara!” Konstantin rushes inside and pulls our sister away.

She thrashes and kicks the air, her tear-streaked eyes throwing lasers my way.

“Let me go! This asshole is not even pretending to be affected. It’s like six years ago when we begged him to stay, and he just gave us his back like a psychopath, Kosta!

He doesn’t care! He never cares! Even if the person who protected him with her life died because of him and all the shit he stirs up! ”

My jaw clenches. Karina doesn’t notice it, but Konstantin’s eyes harden as he shakes her. “Shut it, Kara. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about! Look at him being all nonchalant after coming from God knows where. He doesn’t want to talk about her. But I will, every fucking day! I will remind you of the girl who protected and loved you but only got death in return!”

I reach an open-palmed hand to her face and nearly crush it in my hand. She finally shuts up, her eyes widening.

I don’t recognize the calmness in my voice when I release her. “Get the fuck out of my face before I do something I will regret.”

Her chin and lips tremble. A sob leaves her throat before she runs up the stairs, her sniffles lingering behind her.

My brother watches me with a furrowed brow.

“You have something on your mind, too? I can’t guarantee your safety if you piss me the fuck off, so how about you disappear instead?”

“Never mind Kara.” His voice is too fucking gentle for my liking. “She’s too sheltered for her own good, and you know she’s never been able to read the atmosphere.”

“And you can?”

“Not when it comes to you, I’m afraid. But I’m starting to learn.”

His eyes soften, and I’m so ready to punch him square in the face if he starts to pity me, but that expression doesn’t come. Instead, I’m staring at a version of my brother I thought I’d lost.

A long time ago, when Yulia would decide to take him on a picnic or to some show, he’d hide in my room just to spend as much time with me as possible.

I’d ruffle his hair and tell him to enjoy whatever she was taking him to for the both of us. That’s when he’d look at me with the same expression he has now.

I thought it was only sadness. Maybe discomfort, but now I realize it’s a form of longing.

Konstantin always wanted to be with me, but Yulia happened, and that became impossible.

He releases a breath. “In case you didn’t know, you’re the hardest person to read, and that’s saying something considering I’ve known you all of my life.

No matter how much I try to analyze your actions, I can’t find an explanation for the way your mind works.

I can’t tell whether you’re truly a psychopath who doesn’t feel or you just have no fucking clue what emotions are and, therefore, can’t express them.

I remember when we were young, you loved Kara and me more than anyone else, but that part of you disappeared, and you became… this. Whatever this is.”

“If there’s a point behind your tedious speech, you should’ve reached it by now.”

“I know you still care about Kara, and possibly me.”

“I didn’t realize you were adding delusional to your repertoire of words.”

“I know you do, or you wouldn’t have made my marriage with Kristina happen.

” He grips my shoulder. “Which is also why I know Sasha’s death is affecting you more than you show.

You were always the type who looked eerily calm, even after you came back from Roman’s torture sessions.

You’ve been either on a violence spree or in this pretend calm mode, so I’m assuming you’re suffering inside or bottling your pain or both. ”

“If you’re done being an amateur therapist…” I rotate my shoulder, forcing him to release me, and sidestep him to head toward the stairs.

“You need to get your shit together, Kirill!” he shouts after me. “You’re the Pakhan now, and your head is worth more than ever before.”

“Save the concern for your wife.” I don’t look at him as I take the stairs up.

He’s been subtly trying not to be all disgustingly lovey-dovey with her whenever I’m around. Even Kristina refrains from any form of PDA in my presence. They’re both walking on eggshells around me as if I could be broken by seeing them acting like husband and wife.

To be fair, I did contemplate shooting them in the head whenever I saw them smiling at each other. It’s not them. It’s the sense of fucking doom I have whenever I witness others being happy when that feeling has been wiped out of my life for good.

I didn’t know what happiness meant until I slept like a fucking baby in Sasha’s arms. There were no nightmares, no thoughts about the future.

Just…silence.

For the first time in forever, I had a break from my brain and just felt .

Now that the feeling is fucking gone, I want to confiscate everyone’s happiness, crush it to pieces, and bathe in its blood. I need to turn their worlds as black as mine.

Yulia crosses my path, lifts her chin, and pretends she doesn’t see me. She’s the only one who hasn’t tried to talk to me, and I’m glad she hasn’t or else we’d have a murder on our hands.

I might have some tolerance for Karina and Konstantin, but I’d strangle that woman to death if she ever brought up Sasha’s name.

I’ve had the staff move my clothes to another room near the office. My old room is now locked with a key, and I told Anna to keep it and never give it to me.

My movements are mechanical as I remove my clothes and step into the shower. I watch the blood washing off me, mixing with the water, and disappearing down the drain.

Could I disappear as easily?

No. Not yet.

I still haven’t found the motherfucker who ordered her death.

This isn’t fucking over.

Torturing Roel didn’t empty my thirst for violence. My rage remains powerful, tucked under the surface, waiting for another outlet.

I close my eyes and rest my head on the tiles as the cold water beats down on me.

Soft arms wrap around my waist from behind, and warmth clashes with the freezing water. Her small hands stroke along my sides and pectoral muscles as she lays her head on my back. I feel her lips on my nape, kissing me gently.

I want to turn around and look at her, but if I open my eyes, she’ll disappear.

She always does.