Page 9 of Volatile

The respect doesn’t belong to me, and I don’t want it, I want their fear. For their eyes to go wide at witnessingmydestruction so they know they can never fucking beat me, mentally or physically.

More than all of that, I want Stasi to react, and her lips lift in a slow smirk as she switches her legs knowing I’m going to fuck her hard as soon as I’m out of this cage. She quiets Len’s voice, removes the image of Anika as she walked around the house naked with a plate of food while I held my stomach so it would stop hurting. None of that exists or hurts when Stasi looks at me.

This woman was crafted by the devil herself. People assume the devil is male, only the intelligent know that divinity and destruction are inherently feminine. A man’s rage is short lived, a woman’s conquers nations and leaves a mark that no one would be able to remove. I’m the lucky bastard that’s going to hold that mix in my hands.

My eagerness to do just that has me remaining in my body as the next fighter comes out for my lineup. He picks up the knife resting on the pillar before he’s even got both feet on the canvas. The audible gulp as he looks at the mess of what used to be a person in the corner just adds to my joviality. Vlad catches my eye before he signals for the round to start, and I ignore him. He does it to everyone else, and I don’t need my big brothers coming to my defense like I’m unable to do what we were born for, he doesn’t get to rescue me anymore.

The new opponent charges me instantly and I grab his wrist before the blade can touch me. The crack is pure satisfaction as I bend his arm back and push it into his shoulder as he punches into my ribs. The liquid coating my hands inspires the same emotion and it turns into a laugh from the audience as I swipe his leg out and he hits the dead fuck on the floor. Vanya whistles between each laugh and I look up to see my niece’s happiness.

She lifts her fist and mimes sticking a knife in her throat as she pokes her tongue out, lolling her head, simultaneously making her dad and husband bristle. My head fucks with me and all my humor dies at the reminder of what she did despite it being an instruction. So, I rewrite it from my memory by replacing Vanya’s echoed gurgling with the fucker in front of me as I twist the knife while pulling it out of his shoulder. His blows are less powerful and I drop down, pressing my knee to his chest, as I push the tip of the knife below his ear as he thrashes. The line isn’t as clean with him fighting back but then it’s all red. He chokes on his blood, and I turn back to my audience, searching for the one person I want to see who will make it all stop.

But she isn’t there and some ugly fuck is sitting in the seat Stasi was in. She keeps doing this shit: running from me every chance she gets other than when my dick is inside her. If I want to hear her voice I have to try and have a conversation while fucking her.Leaving the cage, I formulate my plan to finally pin her down mentally. I’m not going to wait at home for her to sneak in when she decides I’m worth the time and I’ll go straight to the devil’s lair once I’ve washed the blood off me.

Dima follows me and I wait until I’m in the changing room to ask, “Are you going to wash my ass for me?”

“No,” he grumbles.

“So why are you following your favorite child?” I turn and pause. “Wait, am I your favorite kid? I fucking better be, Val’s annoying and Adrik is a toddler.”

TWO

Anastasia

Ever since I was fourteen I’ve had an obsession with death. It doesn’t have to be killing someone by my own hand or even be real, my obsession is watching the life drain away and my thoughts swirl wondering where it goes. A soul doesn’t have any tangible evidence but it’s something that the majority of the population agree exists, and my mind fixates on that question every time I witness the light leave someone’s eyes.

I’ll be sore tomorrow with Vitali having exerted more anger in his fight than usual and I take my time catching up on the information Vlad asked for. I can’t stomach the images of abuse and only focus on the logistics of finding the safe house the pedophiles use to traffic children. Vitali doesn’t know that his words inspired me to change everything about who I am and it’s because of him that I will never allow any part of myself to be on display for other people again. My image is my biggest protector, the dumb airhead who is either high or drunk and too stupid to know the difference.

I sit back and semi focus on the slasher movie playing as I wait for the scan run on the phone I swiped from Brodie to finish. It’s therapeutic witnessing carnage and my peace is disturbed by an annoying fucking presence when my phone rings flashing my stepsister’s name. I answer on the last ring, hoping it goes to voicemail or she gives up, but her voice is like nails on a chalkboard as she says, “Mama said I have to personally give you an invite, I’ll be at yours in fifteen minutes.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else as I cut the call.

Her need to impress a mother who isn’t hers has made her insufferable and I contemplate throwing myself out of the window to avoid Marta. I don’t even want to attend her wedding and be scrutinized during the buildup or have to spend a single second around her sleazy father. The man keeps getting older but the type of girl he’s attracted to hasn’t aged with him.

At least she gave me a warning this time and I can hide everything that’s important in the office. Locking the door so the nosey bitch doesn’t go through my things, I tie the key to my necklace and fast forward my movie to the most gruesome part so she can leave once the flimsy envelope is in my hand.

It’s only been seven minutes when there’s a knock on the door and I apologize to my feet before forcing them back into my heels.I make sure to let my ankle appear limp as I clumsily walk to the door and pull it open with too much force. I hold it like I need the support, and my drunken act disappears at the sight of Vitali standing in front of me with a big, dumb grin on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethe and grab his arm as I look around him to make sure Marta hasn’t seen him.

We have a system and he’s fucking it up. I pull him inside before the stupid bitch can turn up and start gossiping. The asshole doesn’t answer my question and curls his hand around my nape. He moves closer faster than I can anticipate and then his lips are on mine.

Fuck he feels good. He always does and his muscles are tense from the adrenaline of the fight. Snaking his hand around my waist, he hauls me up and my legs wrap around his waist as I fist his T-shirt to get it off. We’re good at this part, playing with each other’s bodies, but he ruins it and opens his fucking mouth.

“How you been, sweetness?”

I grab his jaw to keep his mouth closed as I check the time and rush out, “You have five minutes to fuck me and leave, shut up.”

My tone is harsh, the guard I usually place in my throat where I’m unaffected by everything, monotonous, disappears around him.He smirks and looks around the room, his brows go up, seeing the movie playing as he massages the backs of my thighs and makes himself comfortable in my house. He walks over to the sofa and drops down with me still wrapped around him as he stares at the screen, effectively changing our physical-only arrangement that he started.

“I’ll fuck you after we’ve finished watching this.” Sitting back with his arms over the top of the cushions, he flicks his eyes to me and adds, “Or I’ll watch it while you suck my dick.”

I hate the fact I like that image and force myself to stand instead of kneeling how I want to. I raise one brow as I cross my arms over my chest and my mouth opens, ready to tell him to leave, when I get another knock on the door. No one visits me, yet I now have two unwanted guests. One will fuck me, the other will just fuck with me.

Forcing my limbs to act independently from my body, I put on the drunk act and make my eyelids droop as I open the door to Marta’s annoying-ass face.It’s like opening a music box but my mother’s voice comes out instead of a tinny tune.

She’s so beautiful, a real-life doll. Any mother would be proud to have a daughter like mine.

Her head tilts, trying to view the inside of my home when there’s nothing personal on display, other than the furniture, it’s the exact same as when I bought it under Dima’s name.The few things I have that are mine, that I’m protective over, are locked in my office, but I still sway to stop her tainting my furniture. She’s a jinx: a witch who can ruin the most mundane thing because she’s a bitter cunt who wasn’t happy until I was locked in a room with bare walls.

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