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But even if I did make it off the property, I had a feeling Alexie would hunt me to the ends of the Earth. I didn’t know if I should be scared or flattered. Was it love and devotion that made him this way? Or his mental illness? His obsessive and possessive nature.
If I could just garner the strength to walk out those doors and never return. I would be free. Even if it meant I had to look over my shoulder every single day.
Weary with sickness, I hung my head back and allowed my eyelids to flutter closed.
???
The soundof a woman screaming startled me awake. I sat straight up and clasped my chest, as if to still my heart. Was it me? Was I having another nightmare?
“Don’t fucking touch me!” A familiar voice screeched.
What the hell was going on?
Feeling very much like a Victorian aristocrat, I rushed out the double doors of the library in a flurry of lifted skirts. My slippers padded down the hall as I searched for the location of the sobbing, blubbering woman.
Another pitiful wail, and I flew toward the foyer.
Once there, I rushed forth but slid to a stop before the three familiar figures hog-tied with zip straps, thrashing on the hard floor as if that would free them.
The smell of smoke wafted through the air along with Megan’s sobs. Armed men moved about the first floor, with Alexie barking orders in Russian.
Despite the menacing aura surrounding Alexie, he looked devastatingly handsome in his tux, although the jacket was open and his shirt was splattered with blood, guts, and who knew what else. His dark hair was loose hanging in his feral eyes, reminding me of apex predators caught up in bloodlust.
Fuck. I’d still eat him up like he was my last fucking meal.
Roman looked a little worse for wear. He had a cut bleeding over his eyebrow. Soot was all over his face, his eyes were haggard and hardened. He may be a genius, but the things he’d likely done tonight in the name of the Bratva probably weighed on his weary soul more than he’d expected. After all, it was one thing to“see true evil”as Roman once called it, but it was another to become the very evil you spoke of.
Megan’s screaming pleas for me to help her forced me to focus back on the three people lying at my feet. While Josh looked menacingly at Alexie with the one working eye he had left, Damon was glaring at me like I was the spawn that rose from the bowels of hell.
I instinctively trembled as his narrowed gaze moved up and down, taking in my fuller-figure and wedding dress. However, I found his gaze no longer left my skin feeling like ants were crawling on it. Seeing him bloody and broken like this made me feel vindicated.
Like a weight had been lifted from my chest, I felt I could breathe for the first time in years. He had lost his power to terrorize me.
I wanted to bow at Alexie’s feet for giving me this moment—this freedom from the horrors of my past. Elated was too weak a word for what I felt.
Though…
I tilted my head in confusion. If these three were here, where were other other club members? Grifter, Vein, and the many others would not just let this slide. Yet the men around me seemed unconcerned.
“What have you done?” I croaked when Alexie approached, my confusion morphing into shock.
“Me and my men crashed the club. We killed everyone inside. Then blew it up to incinerate the evidence.”
What!? What!?
“I don’t understand! How?”
Alexie laughed vacantly. “Easy,” he said and kicked Damon in the stomach. The MC president coughed up blood. “We are true Bratva. Always ready for an attack. And these fuckers were just bullies playing MC.”
“Fuck you,” Damon muttered.
Alexie lifted the president’s head and punched him in the face. “Your father was a true leader. This disloyal, arrogant, murdering,” another punch, “piece of shit couldn’t even organize his men to counter our attack although they outmanned us 4 to 1.” Another punch.
“Holy shit,” I whispered in awe. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.”
“Tell her,” Alexie ordered. His tone brooked no argument.
The prez spit out a tooth and smiled. “We killed your father. He screamed like a bitch, too.”
