Page 126 of Bratva Menace

Bert shook his head. “I don’t want to answer.”

I stabbed him in the shoulder. He screamed, crying out in pain. Tears started to stream down his face.

“Orrrrr?” I pressed on.

When he shook his head again, I began twisting, slowly rotating the blade deeper into his flesh.

“Ahhh! Or he wants to keep fucking other people! Or he wants to keep fucking other people! God! Stop! Stop!”

I stopped. Not because he asked. Because his words gave me pause.

“No. He wouldn’t do that.”

Would he?

I cursed and yanked out my blade, going right back to pacing. Pacing made me feel better. Bert cried out and clutched at his shoulder painfully. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“He wouldn’t do that,” I said again, this time more to myself than Bert.

“Okay!” Bert yelled. “I don’t even know the guy! If you say he wouldn’t do that, then he wouldn’t do that! Just, please! Stop this! Let me go! I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt that girl. It was an accident⁠—”

I scoffed. “You ‘accidentally’ held her down and tried to stick your cock in her while she kicked and screamed for you to stop? Yeah, sounds about right. Shut the fuck up, or I’ll cut your dick off before I kill you.”

Bert’s lips slammed closed.

Bushy Eyebrows released a pain-filled gasp, and then he stopped breathing.

“Well, he’s dead.” I laughed.

“You’re evil,” Bert spat.

“Rich, coming from you.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I think it’s time you join him.”

“No! No, wait!” His body trembled with fear, and he tried to crawl away. He wouldn’t get far. I’d severed both their Achilles heels to ensure they wouldn’t be able to escape. I continued toward him. “Advice! You want advice, right?!” I halted. My fingers itched around the handle of my blade, eager to slice. Stab. Kill. “I-I can give you advice,” he rushed out quickly.

“Can you?”

“Yes! Yes, I can! I can—” He choked, spitting out blood. His gaze dropped to the knife I’d just thrown at his chest.

“I don’t need your advice. I just needed someone to vent my frustrations out on.” And he’d delivered to a tee.

Bert whimpered, an almost sad and painful sound falling from his lips before he flopped to the ground. I walked over and pulled my knife from his chest, wiping the blood drenched along the blade on my sleeve before holding it up in the air.

The letters LV were etched into it.

It was Lukyan’s blade—the one I’d taken from his room. Seemed only fitting to kill with it, since he was responsible for my shitty fucking mood.

Killing Dickhead One and Two had made me feel a little better, sure, but not immensely. I was still struggling. Struggling with my thoughts and the idea that I didn’t matter as much to Lukyan as he did to me.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

What am I supposed to do now?

You know where he is, a small voice in my mind taunted. Go get him back.

Yes. I did know. He’d be at his grandfather’s estate. Of that, I was sure. But why should I be the one to seek him out? Like I’d said to Bert, I was the one mad at him.