Page 60 of Viparious

“Where?”

The material melds to my skin and I grab a pair of shorts from the emergency clean-up bags before pulling on sneakers and pipsqueak must move closer to my wife because I can hear her.

“Like I said, you are not allowed in here. You can leave of your own accord, or you can be escorted away by the police.”

Where the fuck are the guards?

Steorra.

She has a pre-opening event for the kids to see the new building.

But there should still be fucking guards around my wife.

Dima steps out of the hallway, dragging some beaten pedophile with him and he drops the fucker as I charge forward. Ana’s voice is still filled with excitement as she whispers to herself, “This is going to be fun. So fun.” Her voice rises, and she forgets I’m on the line as I leave the warehouse and get in the car. “Oi dickhead? Why don’t you shout at me, you little bitch?”

Dima must be moving faster than normal, or time is fractured because he jumps in as I start driving, uncaring that his legs are going to be taken out from under him. I cut the call or pipsqueak does, I don’t give a fuck. It all moves in a blur. Cars are on the wrong side of the road, their headlights attempting to blind me, Dima’s mouth opens, but there’s no sound, and something wet touches my arm. I don’t process it because some fucking bitch is screaming in my wife’s face.

It’s dark already, I went into the warehouse during daylight, but I’ve been losing time for months. The only reason it sticks out to me is because Inessa is outside in the dark with some prick.

I see her before anyone else. There stood strong with her fingers wrapped around the door handle blocking the cunt is my wife. She has her other arm out, preventing Ana from doing her fucking job. Once I’ve dealt with the cunt, we’ll be having a fucking conversation. What’s the use in giving her a guard if she doesn’t even use them?

Everything happens in slow motion while the rest of the world speeds up as I pull to an abrupt stop outside Steorra. The front privacy glass reflects the fucker’s face back to me as I get out. His lips pucker before a glob of spit flies from his mouth and lands on my wife’s face. Ana tries to move, but she’s being careful not to knock Inessa’s swollen belly as the cunt does the opposite, crowding into her and continuing to fucking scream profanities.

“You’re a stupid fucking cunt. I hope that mini bitch in your stomach dies.”

He’s closer as my fist flies and a sickening crack fills the air. The second comes as he drops, slamming his head off the concrete walkway.

My foot comes up and I stamp on his fucking head as pain rips from my chest. A soft hand touches my arm and I look towards it.

Inessa.

She stands there, her dark eyes muted and spit still on her fucking cheek as she squeezes and flexes her authority over me.

“You are scaring the children. Not here.” She turns to Dima as she pulls me back with the same authority. “Take him somewhere else. He beat his nine-year-old daughter and starved her.”

Ana goes with him as they both lift the unconscious prick and I’m rooted to the spot because she’s touching me. They both know what to do without me there, he’ll stay alive, in pain, but alive until I’m ready.

My hands are already bloody, dyed pink from how often they’re coated in the substance, and I go to lift the hem of the t-shirt covering me to wipe her cheek when her tone hardens.

“Put it back, there’s blood all over you, and the children don’t need to see it. Neither do I.”

I expect her to rage, I welcome it, but she closes the door, ensuring the auto lock is engaged before pulling me with her to the side entrance of the building. She’s not wearing heels, her feet must be hurting, and she turns, staring at my lips, taking my line.

“Shut your mouth.”

Her hand leaves my arm as she calls the service elevator and it’s like a switch has flipped and I’m back into my body.

“Why the fuck did you leave the building? You should have sent Ana out.”

Her head doesn’t turn as she grimaces and wipes the spit off her cheek with the back of her hand. She doesn’t speak, her jaw moving in a wave under her skin as the doors open and she steps inside. I stay in step with her because is she fuck putting herself in danger. If she wants to kill me, she can do it without harming herself.

The harsh jab against the only button on the panel is the only reaction she has as I say her name.

“Inessa. Speak.”

Her eyes remain fixed forward, and I turn to face her profile. Her hair is up. She never has her hair up because it annoys her scalp. It’s the first thing I noticed about her, and Anastasia said she’d always have to massage it for her when they were kids and Dariya would put braids in her hair. The elevator continues the climb to the top floor where her office is, and she steps out, still not acknowledging me. But she brought me in here, so I continue following her.

Once I enter her office, she slams the door hard enough to shake the frame. There are photos on her desk, ones with Viktor and the horses, from his birthday party with the rest of the family she belongs with. The longer I stare at all the snapshots of a normal family, the more it’s obvious that one thing is noticeably absent — me. Every image shows her family, even Maximoff has a place, but I don’t.

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