Page 133 of Nemesync
“Repeat that.” Elijah’s voice came out low and threatening, commanding the attention of every guest nearby.
All activity ceased and heads turned in our direction, drawn by the tone he used.
He’s going to kill him.
Breathe Z, breathe.
The man, Ronan, leaned against me and took the strap of my dress in his hand, “It’s the dress boss, she’s dressed like one too, that’s why I thought she was one of them.”
The voices started singing the same anthem in my mind, echoing the tone of the biggest monster I’ve ever met, repeating his favorite refrain: ‘Little slut, little whore, you’re nothing but a little slut.’
It’s just in your head, you’re not with him, you’re not there, you’re with Elijah.
Breathe Z.
Elijah looked at me, caressing my cheek slowly as if to bring me back to the present, and with a low voice he asked, “Milaya, close your pretty eyes for me.”
I closed them immediately, and suddenly heard metallic noises, a horrible sound, and screams. I quickly opened my eyes and saw him, his hand on a knife from the table – a knife intended for the dinner that was about to be served, now lodged in the neck of the man who had been bothering me.
He must have hit a major artery, judging by the insane amount of blood pouring out of the man and the stains on Elijah’s face.
Blood, red,death.
His eyes were black, not green anymore, pitch fucking black, nothing in them apart from a fury I didn’t see these last weeks.
He calmly took out something from his suit pocket—a cloth to wipe away the blood splatter from his face, like he was annoyed to be stained by this dead man agonizing at our feet, and muttered to himself, “Fucking bastard. Couldn’t even die without making a mess.”
The kill was executed with a scary detached nonchalance.
It left me breathless.
This was the Pakhan, a man whose very presence sent shivers down everyone’s spine. I now understood the true reason behind the terror that cloaked his reputation. He took a man’s life using nothing but his bare hand and a kitchen knife—no gun, no torture, just a fucking ordinary kitchen knife.
He smiled coldly, his face bloodied, removed the knife from the wound with a swift movement making more blood run down the dead man’s throat, and turned to the onlookers.
Raising his hands, he declared, still with a smile on his lips, “Continue your party, I just got carried away. Try to enjoy the delicious meat tonight and never get near my woman again.”
My woman.
You’re his woman now, Z.
I looked at him, still frozen, then took the arm he offered after saying, “Time for us to go.”
Nikolai followed us after bowing to the guests, “Good evening, everyone. I hope we entertained you tonight.” He then put his hand on my shoulder and laughed, “It was so much fun.”
We moved toward the exit, and then I noticed that Miss Ava was still staring intensely at Elijah, shocked by what just happened, but smiling at him.
She was waving at him even.
Passing by her, I stopped and warned, “The next time you look at him a bit too much, what he did to that man is a mere euphemism for what I could do to you. Now, move aside, bitch.”
Elijah’s hands gripped on my hips tighter, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and intensity, whispering in my ear, “That’s right, Miss Dellé, claim me.”
The weirdest thing was that everyone in the room went quiet. Shocked but not surprised, like seeing him do this is just a normal day.
When we arrived outside Niko burst into laughter, “I thought we were attending a party, Elijah, not a funeral. You do this every time.”
Elijah, wiping the remaining residue of the macabre scene from his face, shot Nikolai a look that could have frozen hell itself, “It’s never just a party, we need to have a little fun in that.”
