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Wiping my upper lip, I move towards my prisoner. I can still smell Sophia’s lipstick on my finger—I decide to use that to my advantage.
“You see that?” I say, opening my palm at Castor so that he can see the red stain on the inside of my finger. “That’s my relationship with your precious Sophia Xiphias.”
“… Is that blood?” Castor’s booming voice goes small as a shaky horror comes over him.
“No. You fool. It’s lipstick.”
That turns him from horrified back to furious. But his fury is more contained now. It contorts his face and clenches his fists. Hell, the chair he’s tied to starts to shake. But he doesn’t explode. Not yet.
“If you’ve touched a single hair on her body, I’ll fucking kill you…” he growls, his deep voice filling the room.
“When will you kill me?” I ask, closing the ground between us. “Before or after I kill you?”
“You talk big for a man who hurts little girls and ties up a real threat.”
“If you were a real threat, I wouldn’t have tied you up,” I sneer. “I would have killed you, along with all of the other Greek fucks I killed to get to you.” My hand curls into a fist and I’m just about ready to sock Castor, before I think better of it. Don’t do it… for Sophia’s sake. “… But if you ever accuse me of hurting little girls again, I won’t hesitate to put you in the ground.”
“I’d gladly fight you to the death,” Castor responds, the veins on his forearms bulging as he glares at me. “Just untie me and see how it turns out for you. I think you’ll find that I’m not as easy to pin down and rape as an innocent teenage—”
This time, I can’t help myself. But instead of punching him, I at least have the control to open my hand and slap the giant goon across the cheek.
His head snaps to the side and a low, pain-filled grunt escapes his chapped lips. Blood quickly starts to trickle down from the corners of his mouth. Staining his already raggedy beard.
Fuck.
“I’ve never raped anyone, let alone her,” I boom, trying to silence the guilt exploding inside of me.
“Then why do you have her lipstick on your finger?”
“Because she’s mine… by her own choice.” That’s not entirely true. But I know it’s not completely a lie either.
“I doubt that,” Castor spits.
“And why do you doubt that?” I ask, stepping forward until my shadow covers him. The guilt raging inside of me is once again being undercut by a jealous fury.
“Because you’re not her type.”
“What is her type?” I hear myself ask, far too desperately.
To my surprise, a small smile lifts up the edge of Castor’s bloody lips. “She likes princes, knights in shining armor. Not Russian thugs.”
My heart clenches.
Suddenly, all I can think about is Mom’s book.
Sophia has started calling me Leo… Does that means she sees the boy in me that mom wrote about? The boy who was always a prince, or a knight in shining armour, despite the darkness of his inescapable fate in the real world…
“So, you know who I am?” I ask, nails digging into my palm.
Calm yourself, Leo. Castor isn’t some ordinary thug. He won’t be so easy to break… especially when he knows more about Sophia than you.
“I think I just figured it out,” Castor nods. “For a second, I could see the resemblance in your face. Leonid Barinov. You’re much thinner than your brother. And your blue eyes aren’t nearly as deadly as his green glare.”
“Sophia would disagree with you.”
“Why? Because she’s afraid of you, or because you think she loves you?” he mocks.
“Who said anything about love?” I snap.
