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“This isn’t a school bus. Next time, shut up,” I hissed, my eyes glued to the phone as I sent a text to Nazard, one of Igor’s men, letting him know we’d be late to the city. “You snore like a chainsaw in a horror movie.”
Dve chuckled as he parked the car.
“I don’t snore,” she said, rubbing her head where a bump was likely forming from the impact. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“You’ll see in a sec.”
“Gosh, you love being mysterious, don’t you?” She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and tightened the loose coat around her shoulders.
“I don’t discuss private things with strangers.”
“Ouch. Now I’m a stranger?” She scratched her chin, pretending to think deeply. “I thought you knew everything about me.” Tapping my shoulder, she scooted closer, her eyes locking with mine. With a quick glance at my lips, she added, “By the way, quick PSA: stalking is only morally tolerated if the guy is cute, which isn’t your case.”
I scoffed. “So, you like to kiss ugly dudes?”
“Yeah, didn’t want to hurt your ego,” she played with her hair and shrugged. “It’s called charity work. Look it up.”
I glanced at Dave and saw the huge grin on his face, clearly entertained by our little catfight. My blood boiled.
“Let’s show you what real charity work is all about, baby.” I winked at her, opened the door, and made sure my gun was loaded. “Oh, and by the way,” I continued with a smirk, “you still have some drool here.”
I pretended to point at her chin, watching her face flush with embarrassment.
She mumbled something that sounded like an insult, but I ignored it and smoothly exited the car.
We had business to attend to, and she was about to witness firsthand what I was truly capable of.
Chapter
Fourteen
“Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.”
? Poppy Z.Brite
Sofiya
Still groggy from the restless sleep I’d fallen into during the long drive, I stretched my arms and rubbed my heavy, itchy eyelids. The wind tousled my ponytail and caressed my cheeks, drying the tears from my yawns.
I wiped my mouth, just in case there was really any drool left. I knew he was lying about me snoring, but a faint insecurity still crept in.
Secretly, I hoped my snoring had been loud enough to ruin his ride.
Suddenly, the morning’s events replayed in my head.
When Dasha entered the room, her arms were laden with clothes I refused to wear, demanding my own belongings. Her conflicted eyes softened my anger, and I seized the moment to coerce her into divulging information about my parents.
I proposed a deal: if she answered three of my questions, I’d wear the clothes and leave the room, likely to face retribution for my defiant confrontation with the lunatic beast last night.
Rolling her eyes, she made sure I knew we were dealing with questions, not wishes.
“I’m not the green genie, Sofiya,” she said, raising her hands in annoyance.
“He was blue, actually, but that’s not the point.”
She glared and urged me to continue.
I sat there in silence, weighing which questions might yield useful information and a potential escape from this hell.
