Page 105 of Love to Defy You
A shadowy silhouette flickers in the doorway in my peripheral, but when I glance up, it’s gone. Surely my eyes are playing tricks on me. With a sigh, I slump back in my chair and dig the heels of my palms into my sockets. What I wouldn’t give to rip out my eyeballs and let them soak in warm water until they’re ready to work properly again.
Fuck, I need to get a grip.
Mikhail. He mentioned something about Ibiza, but it was only supposed to be for a few days. If he’s home, I can use his phone.
I snatch my wallet out of my bag and hurry downstairs. His apartment is only a block away, so I don’t bother with a taxi. A security guard is patrolling the door, and as I walk past him, he grabs my arm.
“No trespassers,” he says in Swiss German. He sniffs the air and gags.
“My friend lives here. Now, get your filthy hand off me.” I yank my arm from his grasp.
“Myfilthy hand?“ The security guard recoils and covers his mouth. “That’s rich, coming from a vagrant.”
When I laugh, it comes out stilted and hoarse. “Oh, please. This T-shirt costs more than what you make in a month.”
He narrows his gaze at me. “Is that so? Did you steal it?” He spits on the ground at my feet and glances at my arms with his lip curled in disgust. “Keep walking.”
I glance down, and even with my poor eyesight, I see what he means. Blood and black dirt are smudged across my skin, and my infected tattoo is haloed in scarlet. On top of that, the stench of death has seeped into the fibers of my clothes.
“Call Mikhail Aslanov. He lives upstairs. Let him know Aleksandr Kurochkin is here to see him.” I lean against the brick wall and fold my arms. “I’ll wait.”
The security guard mutters a string of curses as he walks inside toward the reception desk. He picks up the phone, but he keeps a close eye on me through the front window.
Again, the shadowy silhouette returns, but this time, when I turn around to confront it, I come face to face with none other than—
“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” I grip my chest as my heart thunders from the jump scare.
Grigor Kurochkin, mydeceasedfather, stands tall in front of me, just as clear and real as the security guard I just spoke to. His military uniform is tailored perfectly to his broad frame without a wrinkle in sight, and the metals on his chest glint in the light of the nearby streetlamp.
He holds a cigar between his fingers and takes a long drag. When he exhales, the smoke billows around his face, and the strong tobacco scent battles against the putrid stench of rotting death that follows me.
I stare at the glowing end of his cigar and run my fingers over the burn scars on my arm. “What do you want,Otets?”
He studies me with his cold, calculating gaze for a long stretch of silence, sizing me up. “I never thought you’d make it this far, Aleksandr. In fact, I’m surprised you made it past the first trial, given how weak you are.”
His familiar, cruel voice sends a shudder down my spine. “Then I relish the fact that I’ve proved you wrong.”
“The trials aren’t over yet.” He smirks. “Let’s see what you’re made of, my boy.”
I clench my hand into a fist against the wall. “Why didn’t you ever warn me about the Order? I was completely blindsided. You should have prepared me.”
He snorts. “Do you think my father warned me? That violates the vow of secrecy. You should know by now what happens to those who speak about the Order to outsiders.” Grigor tsks. “I swear, you never learn.” As he turns the cigar over in his hand, he inspects it with interest. “Perhaps you need another lesson.”
I step back and clutch my arm to protect it from him, but I forget about the infected tattoo there.
When I wince, Grigor lets out a sinister chuckle. “See what I mean? You’re too soft.” He takes a menacing step forward. “It’s my job to make you strong.”
You’re too soft.
You’ve never had to take power because it was handed to you. You’ve never had to work for it. That is the difference between you and I.
Even his cruel words follow me from his grave. Grigor is a wretched, vengeful ghost I cannot shake, no matter how hard I try.
I cradle my inflamed arm against my chest. “Stay away from me.”
He takes another step closer.
“I said, stay away!”
