Page 59 of Viparious

Hugging his arm, I flatten my other hand over my daughter like I can protect her from ever being near Vlad’s cunt of a mother. He softens around me and fits his hand over mine without touching anything other than my limb.

“I’ll do what they couldn’t and make sure you’re safe from everyone, especially me, malen’kaya koroleva.” He’s not talking to me, and I bite my cheek to stop the sob from leaving.“You won’t be dirty, you’ll be like your mama, and you won’t cry. Never cry, and not blue. Be pink.”

What the fuck did they do to him? Their only claim to him is DNA when they’ve clearly never been parents. But their abuse is engrained in everything that he is that it’s altered everything.

The bad inside of him is overshadowed by the pure good he hides, and I want to pull it out so it can never leave again.He continues mumbling “not blue” and I have no idea what it means. He’s on the cusp of sleep as he continues muttering his wishes.

“Won’t hear you call me papa, the mhmuh can be your papa.”

I can’t work out the murmured word at who the fuck he thinks is going to have a claim to my child. He doesn’t get to decide shit about her life when he refuses to be in it, and he doesn’t get to ignore us then break my heart while he’s drunk.

1 In another life, my queen.

2 And my future little queen.

SEVENTEEN

Vlad

Watching Inessa sleep is the most amount of peace I’m able to get. It’s still dark and I know I should leave before she wakes up but she’s so serene, facing me on her side. There’s no harshness in her features and her lips twitch at whatever she’s dreaming about. Her hand hasn’t left her stomach since I woke up three hours ago. I don’t know how long I slept for, it must have only been an hour, but it’s enough as long as I can watch her.

She doesn’t stir as I move down the bed and have a private conversation.

“You won’t know me, but I will always know you.” My voice is barely audible to my own ears, and I look up, making sure she hasn’t woken up. Her snores restart as though she knows not to eavesdrop, and I continue. “If anyone ever tells you about me, you’ll probably hate me, and that’s okay. I’ve fucked up a lot, malen’kaya koroleva. Be good for your mama okay? She talks a lot, but it’s because she cares and she’s strong. Be strong like your mama, not like me.”

I carefully sit up, ensuring I don’t touch either of them, then pull the sheets up before I leave. Ana is entering the house when I come down the stairs, and surprisingly, pipsqueak is the only person who doesn’t give me shit. Her eyes are narrowed, staring at the shitty fucking flowers on the hallway table, and she shakes her thoughts away rather than talking to herself like she usually does. My voice is rough as I pass her, needing those fucking things out of existence.

“Get rid of them. And don’t accept any that aren’t from me.”

If my wife wants to live in a florist, I’ll do it, not some slimy cunt who thinks they’re remotely good enough for her. Valentin’s call comes through as I step outside, and I answer on the first ring, knowing it’s too early for him to be awake. He doesn’t have a tantrum. He’s stopped since he started treating me like I’m his colleague and not his brother.

“The meeting has been set.”

He ends the call, and I refrain from dialing him back to tell him he could have sent it in a message. I know why he’s doing it — he wants me to hear how fucking cold he’s become.

I’ve never felt my age, I spent my childhood as an adult and now I’m aging every minute. I can feel my cells slowly decaying as I walk away from Inessa and get in the car. She hasn’t moved despite opening a new site for Steorra, closer to the home she belongs in. She’ll make the journey every day, and I’ve made a point of never being there, so she feels comfortable enough to move back. I’ll still break in to make sure she’s safe through the night, but at least she’d have her days with company.

* * *

Dima ison the verge of throwing up as I roll my shoulders and twist my neck to each side to try to alleviate some of the tension.

“Next one.”

There’s no emotion in my voice and my nose twitches as he shakes his head. He grumbles under his breath before walking through the warehouse to where we keep the sick cunts. The blood on my arms is semi-dried and I look around the tarp covering the floor to try to work out which fucker I started with. None of them are recognizable and I’m sure there’s a limb missing.

I count them out — four torsos, eight legs, four heads, and only seven arms.

Where the fuck did their arm go?

Dima is taking too long, so I go to the sink and try to get as much blood off me as possible. My boxers are stuck to me from how saturated they are, and my face is taut from the amount dried on my skin. But this is the only way I can get peace without Inessa, or I’ll end up fucking following her all day. Pipsqueak has already caught me twice, and I’m not giving that little psycho a chance to do it a third time.

My hair is stuck together, the blood binding the strands together and I tilt forward, running the water over my head. The industrial-sized spray faucet pelts ice-cold water against my scalp and I don’t close my eyes as the murky red drips down. The water won’t run clear, I’ll need to scrub at my scalp. Memories assault me of when my queen stood on a chair in the shower to do this shit, she was smiling despite how idiotic it was and an ache forms behind my ribs. It splinters, sending shards further into me and I focus on my breathing rather than the tightness choking me.

My phone rings and I answer it without looking as I move back to scrub my hands. Ana’s voice comes through, filled with urgent excitement.

“Send someone else to look after Inessa. Some dickhead is shouting at her.”

I’m already moving and pull on a t-shirt that Valentin must have left behind as my voice drops, erasing all other sounds.

---