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“Martin made Oleg an offer. The same one you heard him make me when he came to my office. Oleg took it. And he gave Willow over to him.”
I can’t…
I can’t…
I think I’m going to pass out.
Demyen notices me go limp in his arms and immediately sets me down on Willow’s bed. He tips my face up to look at him, but moving my eyes feels like more effort than my body possesses the energy for. I feel myself wavering.
Oh, God. I’m going into shock.
He presses a kiss to my forehead. Then gently, carefully, he lays me down on the bed so I don’t hit my head on something if I do pass out. At least, I think that’s what he says. It’s kind of hard to tell through the fog settling over my sight and hearing.
The one thing I can make out is his rage.
Demyen is vengeance incarnate.
Once I’m down, he stands back up. Leaves the room. Closes the door behind.
The last thing I hear before darkness takes over is the sound of hell breaking loose.
35
DEMYEN
I’m praying to God that Clara doesn’t notice the blood splattered in Willow’s room.
I’m praying to God it isn’t Willow’s.
When I glance up and see Oleg watching from the archway of the main house, that smug fucking smile plastered on his face…
Something inside me snaps.
My patience lasts only as long as it takes to make sure Clara is not about to roll off the side and hurt herself. She’s in shock, and I’m divided between attending to her and finishing some very important business with our unwanted house guest.
But then I turn to look at Oleg again. I see Roxy and Bambi on the floor, casualties in their attempt to protect Willow from him. From Martin.
And then I see nothing but red.
I’m so fucking furious that I don’t even register running from Willow’s room to the main house. All I feel is insurmountablerage coursing through my veins. All I want to do is beat the living shit out of this sick motherfucker who dared to mess with my family.
Myfamily.
“Ah, there he is. Demy?—”
The first meaty smack of my fist into his face catches my father by surprise. Oleg shoves me off him, but I barrel back for another barrage of blows. He lands a solid punch to my ribs, right where that graze had to be stitched over, and that manages to knock me off-kilter enough for him to shove me away again.
“That’s enough!” he roars at me. “Sit the fuck down!”
“Where is she?!” I ignore his pathetic attempt to order me around. I also ignore the pain radiating from my lower ribcage as I scramble to my feet. “Where the fuck is my daughter?!”
His laugh is officially more infuriating than that smug fucking smile. He literally slaps his knee and acts like I’ve just said the funniest shit he’s heard in years.
“Your daughter?Yourdaughter?” Oleg guffaws. “You’ve lost your damn mind, boy! I gave her back to herrealfather. She’s fucking lucky, too. I wanted to kill that damned dog of hers, but Patterson wouldn’t let me ‘traumatize her more.’” He rolls his eyes. “Now, calm the fuck down and stop playing pretend with that bitch. It’s time to cash in our end and go get your brother.”
He might as well have shot me through the chest.
Willow’s with Martin.
