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Yeah, I’m done with the empathy card.
“What do you want me to say, Ada? You want me to apologize for being born the way I was? Let me tell you something—you're no better than he was. You wanted your revenge on him for what he did to you. I could understand that. Hell, I probably would have helped. They weren't my family; they were just the people who donated their DNA.” I narrow my eyes at her. Well, as best I can with one eye being nearly swollen shut.
“But you murdered everyone in that house,” I hiss. “Those people were my family, and they were yours too. They took care of you after your mother died. Made sure that you had everything you needed. They—”
“Didn’t do a thing to stop it!” she screeches, finally losing the carefully crafted control she’s been sporting. “No one did. That’s why I killed my own mother. Jonah here told me how he’d planned to rescue her and take her away. She said no. She let him walk away without her. If she had gone with him, then none of this would have happened. I’d be happy and free and…”
The scream I release is long, echoing throughout the room. She'd swung a bully stick into my shins with enough force that I'm surprised it didn't break the bones. She swings again, slightly higher on my legs this time. Tears spill down my face as she does it again and again. What little support I had on my toes is gone and I slump down unable to support my weight under the brutal assault. My shoulders and wrists are burning as I hang there, struggling to breathe, think, and survive.
“Adrian’s going to kill you,” I promise, cementing the vow in my head.
She leers down at me, loving every moment of my torture. There is a sadistic gleam in her eyes that tells me I have no hope of reaching the bright-eyed, thirteen-year-old girl who was my best friend.
“He’s never going find you.” She licks her lips. “And even if he does, by the time my men and I are done with you, he won’t want you back. He barely wants you now.”
Her last sentence hits me harder than any of the physical blows she's dealt me. From the wicked glint in her eyes, she knows she's struck gold. There is a possibility that Adrian won't come for me at all. Maybe if we were married but even then, it would be more out of duty and obligation than the fact that he actually cares or loves me.
“Tell me.” She leans in to whisper in my ear, her lips brushing up against the shell. “Does he call my name when he fucks you? Does he call you a good little girl? How does it feel to know I had him first?”
I'm silent for a moment and she leans back, a triumphant look plastered on her face. “It kind of feels like this.” With what little strength I have, I rear my head back and smash my forehead into her nose. She cries out, her hands flying to her face.
Worth it.
She goes to strike me with the bully stick, again. A strike that is clearly meant for my face, when suddenly, all hell breaks loose. My eyes clench shut after the first shot is fired. Then there is another and another. I hear a wounded cry in front of me, but I still don’t open my eyes.
I do scream, however.
“Vanya,” I hear an angel’s voice calling me through the fog of terror. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.”
I can’t. I’m dead. That is the only explanation for why he came for me.
“Please,moya malen’laya I’vitsa,” the angelic voice begs, as gentle hands roam my body.
“Cut her down.” Anton. My eyes fly open when I hear his strong command. Maybe this is real and not some death-fever dream. Adrian’s blue eyes stare back at me, soft and concerned but I can see the predator lurking in the depths. He’s angry but he’s trying to stay calm.
For me. He’s trying to stay calm for me.
The rope above me slackens and suddenly I’m falling, unable to slow myself down. Adrian’s strong arms catch me, lowering me gently to the ground.
Adrian’s crystal gaze darts all over my face and body. I relax in his arms, knowing I'm safe. My body jerks at the site of another man kneeling before me, a small knife in his hand. It takes me a moment to recognize him through my swollen eyes, but his caramel skin and wide-set eyes are hard to miss.
Kenzo Nakamura, one of the Sovereign Brothers and heir to the Yakuza throne.
“We've got to get her to a hospital,” he says as he slowly cuts through the rope wrapped tightly around my hands. An agonizing moan slips through my lips as he unwraps the binds. Dried blood is stuck to the fibers and it's pulling out my skin reopening the wounds on my already shredded wrists. Adrian flinches at the sound, tossing the ropes aside as he gathers me closer in his arms. Anton and another man I know as Vitali, skid to a halt in front of us, their faces paling as they stare down at me.
“Khristos,”Anton mumbles. One of Adrian’s men comes in carrying a small black bag. He kneels on the other side of me and sets to work on patching up my wounds the best he can.
I struggle not to cry out with every touch. Adrian pulls my face toward his with a gentle hand. I don't turn away because I can see that the thread holding onto his control is beginning to fray. His breaths are coming fast and ragged and even though he's looking at me I can tell that his eyes are unfocused. Physically he's here with me, holding me in his arms, but his mind is somewhere else entirely.
Adrian is a dangerous man. He doesn't need to work at it. Hell, he doesn't even need to try. He is built to inspire fear, but unlike others in his position, he doesn't surrender to that nature unless he's given no other choice.
“I knew you'd come.” It's a lie because man did I have doubts, but it's a lie he needs to hear right now. He exhales harshly, the fog in his eyes clearing. He bends forward and brushes his lips against my forehead.
“I'll always come for you,” he assures me earnestly. “I love you, Vanya. I was too afraid to tell you before because I didn't know if I could survive being manipulated and lied to again. But I realized that it was unfair of me to compare you to the one that came before.”
My gaze moves to where Ada lies on the floor, her eyes open and lifeless. I should feel sad, right? She was my best friend. But then again, she took everything away from me. If she would have confided in me about what our father was doing, I would have helped her, but instead, she internalized her anger and her pain, and then she released it on me.
All the chaos she caused was simply so that I would feel the way she felt. She wanted to subject me to the pain that she was forced to endure for years. She wanted revenge, but instead of taking it out on the ones that deserved it, she thought I should be the one to suffer instead. I have a feeling that even though she got her revenge on our father, it was never truly him she was after.
