AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Things like feelings and friendships didn’t matter at the end of the day. It was kill or be killed and unfortunately for everyone on this list, Sergei decided their time was up.
17
ROAN
I was stillawake when Sasha came home. It was a little after ten, which was early by his standards. That, more than anything, had me concerned.
Setting my bow and violin down, I walked out of the guest room. We ended up meeting in the hall while he was on his way to the master bedroom. One look and I immediately jerked to a halt.
Sasha was covered in blood. Not just his hands, like usual — although they were stained from a poor attempt at wiping them off — he had it everywhere. Splatters on his face, his shirt, a giant patch blooming across his abdomen and the tops of his thighs, like he had to hold someone down while... something awful happened. I didn’t even want to imagine what it was.
“I’m fine,” he said automatically, moving past me without even slowing down. A strange combination of blood, cigarette smoke, and a potent sugary scent wafted over me. Minus the blood, I’d smelled that smell before — whenever he came back from hanging out with Eduard at any number of strip clubs in the area.
“What happened?” I forced myself to follow him, steering clear when he ripped the weapons off of his body and threw them on the top of the dresser before rushing into the bathroom.
“I need to change.”
“What happened, Sasha?”
“Please don’t ask me that.”
The “please” hit me hard. It was as rare and precious as the word “love” when it came to him. I could safely count the number of times he said those words on one hand —combined. The “please,” more than the blood, made my heart stammer painfully in my chest. “Why not?”
“Because I can’t tell you,” he said, bracing his bloody palms against the sink and hanging his head. “And I can’t lie to you anymore.”
Swallowing down my reservation, I padded closer. As soon as he looked up, I took his face between my hands. Dried or not, a wave of queasiness rolled through my stomach when my palms touched some of the blood. “Sasha… What happened?”
“I’m going to Hell.” The tremble in his voice was unmistakable, along with the haunted look in his eyes. I couldn’t remember a time he hadeverlooked distraught when he came home from “work.” Normally he looked annoyed, or tired. But this version of him? It scared me more than when he was pissed off.
I had no idea what to do to even try to bring him some kind of comfort or reassurance. What were you supposed to say to someone in a situation like this? Oh, sorry you feel bad for torturing someone, I can only imagine how much that sucks. Yeah, right.Sonot appropriate.
In the wake of my silence, Sasha slipped away from me and disappeared back into the bedroom.
Rooted to the spot, I stared at the flakes of dry blood on my hands. Despite my attempt to think clearly, my imagination created one horrific scenario after the other. Was it the person Sasha was so upset about? Or the manner in which he violently ended their life? I honestly couldn’t think of any situation — or person — he would give a second thought to. Unless it was someone close to him? But other than me, that really only left Eduard. Or Misha. Fuck...
Plastic rustling snapped me out of my terrible theorizing. Sasha reappeared with a garbage bag in hand. He stripped out of all of his clothes, bloody or not, and stuffed them into the bag before tossing it in the sink.
“Are you ok? Really?” I asked, knowing damn well he wouldn’t give an honest answer.
“I’m normal.” Typical… “I need to shower.”
I wasn’t going to argue with him, nor was I going to push. If leaving him alone was the only thing I could do for him, then that’s what I’d do, even if it killed me.
Closing the bathroom door, I returned to the guest room with every intention of picking up where I’d left off.
Absentmindedly rosining my bow, my mind drifted again. Of all the things Sasha had done, nothing ever seemed to upset him. Until now. What would make a man like that actually be upset? He chopped people up for aliving. He wasn’t sentimental or nostalgic. He didn’t live in a world of gray. It was black and white. Period.
I didn’t even realize how much time passed until Sasha appeared in the doorway, dressed in a fitted t-shirt and sweats. He had the garbage bag in his hand, hanging limply at his side.
“Do you want to come with me?” he asked.
No. No the fuck I did not. I didn’t want to know what his plans were for that bag. I didn’t want to know anything that would make me an accomplice to whatever it was he did for Sergei. I wanted to live in a bubble of deniability for as long as humanly possible, in spite of the shit I’d already seen.
But Sasha didn’t ask for anything. Ever. So I nodded and set my bow back in the case.
He led the way out of the apartment and to the elevator.
I thought we might go to the basement, where he and the other Russians had their own mini Fight Club “training” area. Surprisingly, we went up — to the roof.
