Page 20 of Wanted
He looked like the models from the calendar Aris had gotten me for my thirtieth birthday. Sometimes my youngest brothers liked to tease me. The calendar full of hot ripped, and oiled up guys had been one of his more amusing jokes.
Whatever happens, sweetie, don’t ever abandon your brothers. They need your guidance. Be what he’ll never be to them. We’ll help them find their way. I believe in you.
There was a knock on the bathroom door as I got ready to enter the shower. I let Alex and Fylox take over my thoughts in hopes to get my mom to leave my head alone. I considered opening that door to relieve my body of that ache between my legs.
“Did you use the dye?” Fylox asked from the other side of the door.
“Do I have to?” I hated myself as a brunette. I had brown hair when my father started doing what he did.
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Now. Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Or else?”
“I’ll make Katantia look like a piece of cake.”
I snickered at his naivety. I picked up the dye with a frown on my face. “You have no idea what Katantia’s like.”
“Try me.” That was the last thing he said. I heard his steps heavier than usual as he walked away.
♥♠♥
Brown hair, bruised limbs, and battered egos, that was my life on my first day outside of Chicago.You’re my little fighter, sweetie. With you by my side, I have nothing to fear.I’d managed a couple of good responses to Fylox’s snappy remarks about my condition. I’d told him I got my muscles from fucking. Well, I didn’t use that exact word. I’d pissed him off enough for a day.
Fylox’s training in the cellar of the house managed to distract me. My withdrawal symptoms were lessening by the hour, but they never went away completely.I’ll never leave you.This time around, it was an easier route since I hadn’t got my body used to the consumption again. I’d overdosed on my first contact with the drugs. I’d done it somewhat on purpose, but my body didn’t really acknowledge that. The only thing I craved was weed, but that wasn’t the reason for my increased heart rate or my possible sky-high blood pressure.
My strict trainer gave me an hour of a break to get ready for dinner. I took another shower, washing off the sweat that had become a second skin of mine. I dried off, and I put on some more baggy clothes.
I considered offering to cook for the guys since they were such lovely hosts for me, but when I smelled something heavenly spiced in the air on my way to the kitchen, I wondered who had cooked. Fylox said he didn’t cook. I doubted they had food delivery services out here.
Alex addressed me as soon as he saw me enter the kitchen area. Fylox stood by the big fridge, observing his friend as he did his thing by the stove. “There you are. How are you feeling?”
I shrugged exhausted. “I’ve been better.”
“I made some things to eat. I hope you’re not allergic to anything. I have a strict diet I like to keep up.” I nodded, understanding. You couldn’t compare fucking to his sports career, but I fully grasped the concept of having to watch what you ate when your body was your main prize. “The hair looks good on you.”
“I like red more. Ripe and ready to be plucked like a cherry,” I responded with a sigh, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Alex was amused by my comment, his smile lighting up the room. Fylox just stood there, shooting daggers at me with his eyes. “Do you need any help?”
“We’ve got it covered,” Alex assured me. He gestured at his best friend. “He’s on kitchen duty.”
“Why can’t I help?”
Alex’s eyes didn’t meet mine. It was like the warmth he usually exerted vanished in the matter of a millisecond. Fylox broke the silence. “You don’t clean well enough.”
But that was a lie.
They didn’t want me around knives unsupervised, so they’d rather do it themselves. Fylox had been watching me intently at his place the other day, twitching with anticipation every time my fingers graced a knife. Also, Fylox did have a thing for cleanliness. Why couldn’t we be better friends? I loved my kitchen squeaky clean, too.
Fylox and Alex didn’t know the time for suicidal thoughts was over. Yes, I stressed over my family. Yes, I felt like a terrible piece of shit for what I’d done to leave my country behind. I had disappointed an entire country. Yes, I occasionally tempted him to kill me, but that was the dark part of me. Kamila, the redhead, wanted to embrace her brother. Her brothers, plural. She wanted to have a word with Travis. He orchestrated my rescue plan better than I had. I had a target on my back.
But I was finally free. I was in a new type of captivity, but I was free.
Free of him.
You’ll never be rid of your family, Kamila. You have to deal with us! Why are you doing this to yourself?
