Page 66 of His Darkest Obsession
Shlyukha.
Whore.
I try to swallow back the rage, and find it impossible to do now. My jaw clenches tight again, the same way it did when I recall seeing the scars on Indigo's thighs. No words come to my lips, not that I can form a coherent sentence right now from how fucking angry I am.
Then, my hands move before I can stop myself.
BAM! BAM!
My fist collides with Vassily’s face. Hard. The first hit wipes that stupid grin off his face. The second breaks his nose with a sickening crunch. Roma tries to stop me, but I give him a hard shove and send him to the floor.
My left hand tightens around Vassily’s shirt collar and my fist draws back for another strike.
“What the fuck, Tolya!” He screams back through a mouthful of blood.
I don’t give a fuck.
Bone crunches. Blood sprays. I don't stop. I don'twantto stop. There's a loud guttural sound echoing, as if an animal is roaring in rage. And only when I feel the rawness in my throat as I draw my fist back before slamming it against his face do I realize that it's coming from me.
Strong hands yank me back, and Vassily crumples to the ground, crying and whimpering pathetically as blood pours from his mouth and nose. Roma is yelling at me, but I can’t hear him over the sound of my blinding rage.
“Get the fuck up, Vasya!” I roar. “Get the fuck up and taking your beating like a fucking man.”
“TOLYA!” Roma shakes me by my shirt. “THAT’S ENOUGH!”
I try to wrench away from the hands of the guards holding me, but they refuse to let go out of the fear that I might actually kill Vassily.
And truth be told.
I fucking want to.
Nobody calls my wife a fucking whore.
“Get off me!” I roar, and when nobody budges, I let the words fall from my lips. “Eto moi prikaz!”
The guards restraining me releases me at once. And even Roma backs off. All of them still recognize the commanding words of a pakhan—words that carry the punishment of death if they dare disobey.
And in front of the door, Vassily moves his hand in the pool of slippery blood, making one pathetic noise after another.
“Get up, Vasya,” I hiss. “Don’t make me use the words.”
And for the first fucking time in his life, he actually obeys. Whimpering, he stands up on shaky legs. Blood continues to splatter down on the ground. I don’t wait for him to pick his head up to meet my gaze, and grab his neck to force him to look at me.
“The only reason you’re alive right now is because you’re my brother.” My finger squeezes his neck and turns his face purple. “Butneverlet me hear you talk about my wife like that again.Ponimayesh?”
He nods.
I throw him down on the floor and deliver a swift and brutal kick to his ribs.
“What the fuck was that for?” He screams at me, coughing up another fresh mouthful of blood. “I told you I understood, didn’t I?”
“Your pakhan asked you a question, Vassily Stepanovich,” Roma answers on my behalf. “And you are expected to respond with the proper amount of respect.”
Vassily looks between Roma and I, expecting that one of us might say something or do something to dispute the claim. He even looks at the fucking guards standing by my side.
When he finally sees that nobody is coming to his aid, he pushes himself up on a single shaky knee and bows his head.
“I understand, Anatoly Stepanovich. You will never hear that word from my mouth about your wife again.”
