Page 17 of Deadly Knight
“What did you do?” Each word is paced, slow and heavy—almost a whisper spoken from my heart rather than my throat. A thought-out question while the puzzle gets pieced together.
“That didn’t take you long. Always knew, away from that civilian cunt, you’d see clearer.”
My stomach flips, my next whisper guttural with betrayal. “It was you.”
He bobs his head in acknowledgement. “I warned you to get rid of her. You have a role in the Bratva, and now that you’re eighteen and finished with that useless school, youmuststep up. A relationship is fleeting, but the Bratva is forever, and it’simperative you focus on that. That girl is distracting. Too many times, you’ve chosen her over your job, and it sickens me. It had to end.”
Howcould someone—how could myfather—do this? How could someone concoct something so fucking horrible and cruel for an innocent?
Red fury flicks down my spine, straight to my fists. Torment tightens every nerve inside me until I’m nothing more than a stiff statue, unsure what to do, what to think, how to process this. I entered this room prepared to beg for help finding Katya’s four villains, but there was one ringleader.
My own fucking father.
He glances at my fists. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good. She surprised me yesterday when she declined the payout I offered in exchange for her to get out of your life. Guess she really cares for you.” He scoffs, the concept of caring foreign to him.
A payout? It hits me then. Graduation, when I was running late because of a last-minute jobhehad for me. It was all planned. He got me away from the ceremony to be alone with her to bribe her before I showed up.
No wonder she seemed so off afterwards. If only I demanded to know what they spoke about rather than let it go. It could have saved us so much pain if I knew what he was up to and how much he wanted us apart.
Within the course of twelve hours, his twisted morals led him from bribery to rape. I should be surprised, but I’m not. His moral compass broke many years ago. Hell, I’m not sure his ever pointed north to begin with.
“How could you?” I finally manage to speak, but it’s nothing more than a dry whisper.
Papa’s brow hikes. “How couldI? How couldyouturn away from your heritage, all for some common whore?”
I snap. I feel it inside me as the tension grows too tight, and the little restraint I’ve been clinging to shatters into mindless rage.
Papa wants a soldier worthy of the Bratva? He’ll fucking get one.
In a flash, my arm snaps across the desk, and I grip Papa’s crisp, white collar to yank him towards me. His stomach jams into the desk, causing him to grunt with discomfort. My other hand practically pulls him over the surface, the paperwork he and my uncle were previously reading scattering to the floor.
Papa might be scary to others, but his increasing age, lack of effort in the gym, and preference for sweets has weakened him. Hand to hand, I’ll beat him every time, and he knows it. Even now, wariness flits through his hardened gaze.
I don’t speak. Don’t provide him any sort of warning before my fist launches into his face. My grip on his collar is all that keeps him in place. A second punch smashes into his nose, a satisfying crack filling the air before a trickle of blood follows.
He manages to lift his hands in a silent plea for me to stop. I shouldn’t stop. Shouldn’teverstop. Shouldn’t ever show him any mercy because he ensured Katya got none when she and I both begged them to stop violating her. When I was tied to a chair, limited to only verbal threats that were ignored while they vandalized an angel.
His lips crack in a sickening grin. “Proud of you,syn.”Son.
“Proud?”I snarl, releasing him with a firm jerk. He lands on the leather seat, the wheels sliding him back a couple inches from the force.
“Of course.” He wipes under his nose, streaking the blood, before gesturing at me. “Look at you. For fucking once, you care about something. The wrong something, sure, but in time, you’ll channel this anger into productivity and see how this is all for you.”
All this forme. He genuinely believes that?
He continues before I can form a comprehensible reply. “This is the deadliest I’ve yet to see you be. Every job you complete, you act as though a knife’s hanging over your head. No passion. No effort. Such a shame to see talent wasted. But no longer. You’ll become the soldier you were always meant to be. In time, you’ll recognize the benefits of my actions. At the cost of her, it’s worth it. To me, anyway. You have too much potential to be wasted.”
“Wasted.” My tone drops a few chilling degrees. “I was never fuckingwasted. How could you do this to the girl I love? I’ve always known you’re heartless, but this? Papa…”
He scoffs. “Love. Worthless fucking emotion. You don’t need love, Dimitri. Eventually, you’ll take a wife. A good woman. The daughter of a prominent figure in our country, or one from another organization to solidify a decent alliance. Your civilian girlfriend was never long term, and I hoped you understood she could only ever be entertainment during your youth.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Your mistake was thinking this would change my feelings for her.” My heel makes a noise as I twist for the door. “This conversation isn’t over. Not by a long fuckin’ shot. Not until I hunt down every one of those bastards you hired and slaughter them all.”
His chuckle is lined with malice as it trails me out of the office. “Can’t wait,syn.”
Doctors,nurses, police officers, and psychologists. It’s a steady stream of constant visitors for three days straight with the goal of making me “better.”
Is that even possible? None of them keep the nightmares away. None of them stop the monsters from climbing beneath the bed and into my mind, forcing me to relive every instance. Every thrust as they took what wasn’t theirs. Every panting breath blown over my face. None of the medications the nurses distribute or the “conversations” from the psychologist help prevent the night terrors that jerk me awake hour after hour, screaming until my throat is burning and my hand scratches at my arm to remind myself of where I am. Where I’mnot.
