Page 22 of Nemesync
He was insane, completely unhinged.
But then again, so was I.
He didn’t know how fucked up my mind was, how destroyed my sanity was from abuse, or how feverish my soul was from sickness. He didn’t know that I had nothing to lose, nothing to miss, nothing that kept me mentally stable to stay away from him.
“You have no idea what you’ve set in motion.” He forcefully took my hand, redirecting it away from his neck. “You might be strong,Milaya, but understand that if I intended to end you, it would have been done easily, long ago. Don’t tempt fate, and don’t you dare yell at me again or I’m going to cut this pretty, filthy mouth of yours and feast on it,” he threatened, releasing the knife to the ground with ease.
Unlocking the elevator, he placed his thumb on the wound at his neck with a smile and cold eyes. “You’re wrong, Zanae. I do know you. And I can’t wait for this mission to conclude because, at least then, I can finish you off.”
“You’re the fucking Devil, Volkov.”
He smiled, the lines around his eyes forming the first honest smile he ever offered me. “Be careful,Little Nightmare. The devil is drawn to the flames in your pretty eyes,” he murmured, his voice low as a dangerous threat. “And I might want to burn in them.”
Our eyes locked in a silent war. Neither of us dared to breathe. The symphony of his heart was so loud in my ears. And the voices stopped, they were as hypnotized as I was. He made them stop screaming—something no one else could ever do.
Little Nightmarehe called me.
Why was it so fitting for me?
The sound of the elevator doors opening shattered the air between us like glass breaking.
“There you are! I am aware the elevator doesn’t take that long to reach my office,” Nikolai’s voice came through, breaking the spell.
The setting of the Don’s place is grandiose—centered desk, a beige sofa to the left, beautiful paintings adorning the walls, and a bar in the rear.
Nikolai sat on the sofa, holding a glass of wine in his hand, smiling at us as if he was amused to see us interact.
“He choked me,” I said, taking a seat on the plush sofa and shooting Elijah a sidelong murderous glance.
Nikolai broke the silence with a bemused smile and a soft tone. “Choked, you say? That’s not typical of Elijah. He’s usually more…mmmh…disciplined.”
Elijah smirked, and I shot him a pointed look.
“Disciplined? That’s a stretch.”
“In our world some boundaries are meant to be tested. It keeps things interesting; don’t you agree, Miss Dellé?”
I kept my gaze fixed on Elijah. “Interesting? More like infuriating.”
Nikolai began briefing me on the mission he had mentioned last time. The psycho leaned against the wall, his gaze never leaving mine, silently defying me. If I stared at him long enough, I might have forgotten we were in a room with Nikolai.
“So, what’s your mysterious plan? What do you want me to do?” I asked.
“Sit down, Zanae,” Nikolai proposed or more like ordered. “In a few days, there’s an event—a gathering to celebrate the new Polish leader. Our target, the man we’ve been chasing for the last 15 days or more, will be there. We suspect he’s the son of one of the key figures in the organization we’re after. We’re going to need you to infiltrate, get close to him without arousing suspicion from anyone. Observe, extract information about his father. That’s the plan in broad terms.”
“That’s it? Sounds like a typical day dealing with my father.”
Nikolai stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, checking if Elijah was paying attention, but he seemed preoccupied with wiping the blood from his throat. Asshole. I should’ve cut his jugular.
“It’s more complicated and can turn out to be dangerous. You’ll be alone with him, and you’ll have to be perfect—nothing more than the role you’ll have to play. You’ll need training too. If things happen to be more complicated than just some flirtation, you’ll have to be ready to defend yourself without us. That’s why you’re here, to discuss the details during our little impromptu meeting.”
“There won’t be any more impromptu meetings if I have to deal with your psychotic friend like that again. I can drive; I don’t need a babysitter.”
He nodded, smiling proudly. “Does your father suspect anything?”
“No, he’s too busy. He just thinks I’m browsing the bookstore.”
“Good. For this mission, you’ll have to be on high alert. If someone knows who you are, we don’t know what they’re capable of, especially given your status as the heiress of the city’s Lebanese mafia. Fortunately, you keep a low profile, and they don’t know exactly what you look like up close. They just know you from your reputation, and they’ll never suspect you to be with the Zennites. So that’s a plus for now on.”
