AllFreeNovel
Share Us
You only have me. No one cares about you. Why would they?
48
DMITRI
My blood is on fire, and every part of me is breaking inside. I’m furious and have nowhere to purge this raging excess energy that crackles like electricity all over my skin.
“Hey! Hey!” Layla yells over my shoulder as I storm through the hallway of Luca’s mansion. His bodyguards watch me carefully, and I fucking dare them to try and stop me. Pray for it. I’m not seeing reason right now, I know that, and I don’t fucking care.
Every part of me is breaking and being consumed by the devil himself.
“Hey!” Layla grabs my shoulder, and I shrug her off. I loom over her and stare down at her, hating every part of her face. Her eyes. Her features. Too close to the woman I love. Loved. “Don’t you look at me like that. As if all of a sudden, I’m beneath you.”
I sneer. It’d be so easy to grab her throat. To remind her about the difference between our strengths. She meant nothing to me. None of them did.
I go to leave, but she chases me. “Hey, I know you’re going through some shit right now, but you really need to pull it together. Dmitri, this isn’t you. You don’t mean any of what you said in there! Can you hear yourself right now?”
I mockingly laugh. “Why? Because people expect me to act a certain way?” I stop in my tracks and turn to her. “What do you get out of all of this, Layla? What is it that you want from me, hmm?”
She’s gobsmacked. “Right, so now you’re just being a dick throwing a tantrum. Damn, being a wounded animal does not look good on you.”
My lips twist up and my knuckles turn white. She continues, “We’ve always had each other’s back. Right now, you are not yourself, so let me remind you,” she grits as if she’s doing everything in her power to not explode.
“You’re one of the wealthiest men in New York who’s just partnered with the fucking Italian mafia. Start acting like it. I don’t know why I’m fucking wasting time on you right now since you won’t see reason but don’t you dare ever fucking look at or speak to my sister like that again. Whether you fucking like it or not, your father has tortured and broken her, and yet she can still stand. If this is what sends you into a spiral, then you were never fucking worthy of her.”
Her words are a cold slap to the face as she turns and walks away. My hands flex back and forth. I need to break something. Anything.
I can’t stand the way Layla looks down on me because where most would back down when I look at them like that, she simply throws it back tenfold.
Luca whistles from the library, sitting on a leather couch. I hadn’t even noticed the room we’d stopped in or him quietly sitting there until now. “I just ask that you don’t break the blue vases in the mansion. I rather tolerate them,” is all he says. I look behind at Layla’s back as she steps into Elanee’s room and slams the door behind her with an echoing bang.
My jaw tics, and I wished I’d been there to burn down The Lion’s establishment. It’d happened as Luca and I planned. The moment he made physical contact with Elanee, we struck and then took her out of the equation. Our families are being protected by Luca’s men, unbeknownst to the carnage happening.
Luca puffs on a cigar, most likely celebrating his win for the day, but it all begins now. “I agree with only one thing that your father implies. You’re not cut out for this. You care too much.”
“Now, you think you know me?” I scoff, blinded by this creature trying to claw itself out before it devours me whole.
Luca stands with the cigar hanging out of his mouth. “That kind of blinded rage will get you killed over the next few days.”
He flashes an unsealed envelope. “One of my men was found dead at the back of his club with this stapled to his chest. It’s for me, considering I burnt his little establishment down. But I think it might interest you,” he says as he hands it over.
I open and read it, relieved that we’d predicted at least this much.
For all the games my father loves, he was also a man of ritual.
You’ve grabbed my attention.
Meet me at this location at sunrise three days from now.
No weapons, only fists.
Winner takes all.
I can’t even smile at how he played into our hands like we predicted he would. One of my father’s many shortcomings was his bloodlust and desire to destroy things himself. It’s the same way he treats his business in Russia as well.
He was the self-proclaimed lion, having a reputation for ripping apart his opponents with his bare hands. Mauling them until there was nothing but pieces to return to their families. It was better than a turf war, especially when he would never win here.
It also meant that he wouldn’t ask for reinforcement from the Bratva directly because he requested this challenge himself.
