Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“You don’t really want me to go, do you, Alek? You’re all I have!” she wails.
“I want you out of my fucking house. I never want to see you or hear from you again. Are we clear?”
She sniffles, startled that I haven’t played into her theatrics. I step over and past her.
“What?” she says behind me, shocked. Then she’s furious. “Then what the fuck has all of this been about?”
I turn to face her. There it is, the ugly little beast beneath.
“You always do as I say.” She stomps her foot. “We were always going to be together! You think because some fucking singer steps into the picture that’s going to change things?”
I step into her space and grab her chin painfully hard. Her eyes go wide.
If we’re both showing our unmasked version, it’s best she sees who she’s raising her voice at.
Disgust. Revolt. Blood.
Touching her makes me want to vomit.
It hurts.
A cold shiver runs through me at the nauseating swirl of all the voices and the memory of crouching in that room, blood pooling under my hands and knees.
I can embrace the blood now. But never enough to push away that moment. The coldness of when I touched my mother’s dead arm.
“You don’t ever speak about Lena like that again. Do you understand me? You are not to ever breathe her name because of how filthy it is when it leaves your mouth. You disgust me.”
Tears spring to her eyes, and her bottom lip trembles, but I tighten my grip, and she grits her teeth, immediately stopping the crocodile tears. “No more of your games. We’re done. I want you out of the city and to never see you again.”
“You can’t tell me where—”
“I’m not in a good mood today, Cinita. And I’m ready to kill someone. So you best make sure you’re gone within ten minutes.”
Her eyes go wide, and I know she can see my murderous intent. I release her, and she stumbles back and makes haste to pack her few things.
I walk to my bedroom that looks like a bomb went off in it. It smells like vomit but also the slight remains of Lena’s perfume.
My hands bunch into fists, this situation tearing me up from the inside.
I’d been too late to realize, too slow to prioritize Lena.
I’m fucking livid, and the only way I know how to release this rage is to kill. I throw on my pants and black shirt, then grab my knives.
Lucky for me, I know a handful of people whose debts need to be collected.
I want to kill. Need to. If only to prove to both Lena and myself what I really am.
How could someone so beautiful love something as monstrous as me?
When I walk out the front door, the house is empty, and I don’t see any sign of Cinita.
CHAPTER 42
Lena
Ihaven’t left my apartment for an entire day now. Not only did I have to nurse that nasty hangover but emotions were running high when I least expected it. I’ve done nothing but DoorDash food and binge watch The Real Housewives, yet not even that can put me in a better mood.
I didn’t get any sleep either, my mind too busy replaying the argument we had. I can’t believe I told him to put a bullet in Cinita’s head. I cringe at the horrible things I said. Jealousy is an ugly, spiteful thing.
When my brother called, I let it go to voicemail.
The only call I answered was one having to do with my new job.
It’s the only thing I have to look forward to, right?
So why am I still so fucking sad? Why does it pain me to know he has her there?
We’re not even anything official, yet I act like I can tell him what to do. But he’s clearly hung up on her. It’s like having an ex, isn’t it? Or am I just thinking that to justify my outburst?
I don’t dislike Cinita, but I know she’s using him. I can see that despite him being a cold asshole, and a deadly one at that, he’s a good man. At least to those he gives his trust to. He may be scary as fuck, but he’s good at his core.
A knock sounds on my door, and I ignore it.
“Lena.” Alek’s voice sounds from the other side.
I ignore him.
Another knock. “Lena, I know you’re in there.”
“She’s not home right now,” I call out.
The front door opens, and I whip my head around to see him in the entryway, my jaw unhinging. “How did you get in?”
“I have a key.”
My eyes bulge. I never gave him a fucking key. He’s holding a brown bag in one gloved hand, and what looks like a bag from my favorite Thai restaurant in the other. He’s wearing a black suit, his head freshly shaven. He looks like a killer, which I suppose is fitting.