Page 106 of Scarred Sins
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. My mind is filled with thoughts of Blair, the what-ifs, the million unanswered questions. I can’t think; I can’t breathe. The guilt is starting to eat me alive on the inside, and I don’t know how I managed to get home.
It’s all my fault.
If I hadn’t left her, she wouldn’t have been taken.
Even Dad is throwing glares at me, clearly blaming me for the situation. I can’t say he’s at fault for doing so; after all, he did advise me against bringing Blair. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in her abilities, but because he didn’t think she was able to regulate her emotions quite well just yet.
He’s fucking right.
My foot is tapping against the floor furiously, my eyes bloodshot. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten, and haven’t moved from this spot since Mom brought me back to the base. My hands are shaking, and even Aria is keeping her distance from me.
It’s all my fucking fault.
“Aria,’’ I called her, voice as broken as I looked. “What the fuck happened?”
She looks between our parents and hesitantly sits across from me, her face void of any emotions as she starts explaining how the fuck all of this happened so quickly. I was in and out in five minutes at most.
“After I tackled that man to the ground and you two went inside, I helped Cove with another two. When I turned around, she was surrounded, and one of them injected her neck with something, and she passed out.’’
“And you just fucking stood there?” I yell, and her brows narrow.
“Excuse me?! If you thought that she’s incapable of handling her own ass, you shouldn’t have brought her! Don’t blame me, blame yourself!” She yells right back. “And do you honestly think that I just sat there fucking still without even trying to get to her? I got fucking shot trying to save your girlfriend, so you’re blaming the wrong person.’’
My jaw clenches, my chest aches, and the guilt is slowly threatening to tip me over the edge. I’m close to going on a killing spree, to just waltz into their main homes and murder all of them. All in me is screaming to do it, but the rational part of me is telling me to stay put. If I kill them, I won’t find her.
What if she’s dead already? What if they’re torturing her? What if she’s in pain? What if they’re assaulting her all over again and it’s all my fault? I shouldn’t have left her. I promised I’d be there for her, that I’d be right behind her, and like the bastard that I am, I failed her.
Just like every other man in her life that was supposed to protect her and care for her, I failed her in one of the worst ways possible. My chest is tight, my throat closes up, and I can’t breathe. My eyes are glossy from tears, and it’s all from fucking anger.
I’m angry at myself.
No one else to blame – just me and my fucking stupidity.
Aria huffs, her forearm wrapped in a bandage. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, and Mom places her hand on her shoulder, giving her a firm squeeze. She looks at Dad, then back at me.
“Arlo,’’ her voice is stern. “I’ve called for help.’’
My brows lift to my hairline. “Help? Who?”
Just as the words leave my mouth, the front door of the base opens, and my jaw goes slack. The tall woman enters with a man I haven’t seen before right behind her. Though, my focus is on her.
Her long blonde hair falls down her waist; her left arm is covered with burn scars. Her outfit is just like something she used to wear often – leather and in the darkest, deepest shade of black. The sound of heels clicking as she walks causes me to do a double take, just to make sure I’m not imagining things.
Those blue eyes are as cold as always, and I shiver at the sight of her.
“I thought you were dead.’’
She tilts her head to the side. “Did you?”
My brows narrow. “Yes, I attended your funeral.’’
“Good thing it was a closed casket funeral, huh?”
Her voice is soft, but I’m no fool. The lightest smirk tugs on the corner of her lips, and she stares at me. No one else seems to be worthy of her attention, and her focus is solely on me. Neither of us speaks, but I’m getting more tense as seconds tick by.
I’ve always hated this woman. The way she always strutted into places as if she owned them, the sheer arrogance she carried herself with, as if everyone else was below her. The way she was able to bribe her way into any place, any situation, at any given time.
But no matter how much I want to deny it – I can’t. She’s extremely intelligent, highly capable, and one of the most brutal, vicious people I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. She’s the only person with connections bigger than my family’s and skills that arethat goodto help us.
She’s a diagnosed sociopath, and she wears it like a fucking badge of honor. I’ve witnessed her murdering people for just looking at her the wrong way, in a public setting, no less, and no consequences came her way.
On the hierarchy, she stands at the top. The brutal killer with more blood on her hands than I thought possible to have. Fuck, she even surpasses my entire family altogether.
She’s unstable, unpredictable, and destructive. She leaves terror and blood wherever she goes and has the tendency to brag about it.
She’s the only person I’ve truly feared, and the only one that can help me find Blair, damned be the price of it. The only daughter of the Russian Pakhan – the one who’s supposed to be dead.
The Rapscallion.
Ekaterina Kalashnikova.