Page 25 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Stepping closer, I take Greta from him and the little traitor has the audacity to hiss at me for taking her away from what I see is her favorite human now. “Go shower, you smell horrendous,” I tell him.

“Living on the streets will do that to you.” He mutters before grabbing my favorite knife and rising from the chair.

He looks like a filthy sewer rat. Smells like one too. That will change starting tomorrow.

“You don’t live in the streets anymore. Go bathe and once you’re done the doctor will see you to make sure you don’t die of pneumonia.” We lock stares. “That would be tragic…”

The boy grins before a smile breaks free and my heart cracks. Air leaves my lungs as I watch him turn towards the door. Once he reaches it, he grabs the doorknob and twists it then stops. I watch as he slowly looks over his shoulder. “Will you be there?” He looks almost worried. I don’t like that look on his face. Why don’t I like it?

Because he’s already gotten there, hasn’t he? The obnoxious voice inside my head whispers.

Sighing, I reply. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.” Silence falls between us. A silence so deep I swear I can hear the sound of a heart beating but that’s impossible.

Walking towards the door, I stop when I reach him. He looks so small compared to me. Azariel lifts his head back to look at me. I’m much taller than he is.

I watch with a lump in my throat as he nods his head and then leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I stand there with my grumpy cat in my arms and think to myself how everything is going according to plan. Everything but the one I didn’t see coming.

The lying Russian.

He was not part of my plans but here he is.

Both of them are.

I brought them both into my world and my home. To the place, no one knows about. Not even my sisters. To the mansion, I had built to hide all that matters to me.

The home where my heart is buried.

And now they’re here.

Vitali and Azariel.

I didn’t lie when I told the kid that Vitali was only a ghost because he is. A ghost of the past that refuses to stay dead no matter how fast I run, he’s always managed to catch up to me.

But now he’s in my world and I’m no longer the little girl who looked at the man in black as if he held the answers to all her questions and as if he hung the moon and stars in her lonely and dark sky. There’s no room for him here.

Not in my world and especially not in my black heart.

Chapter 8

KADRA

ANGEL IN BLACK

“I’m breaking every rule for you.” – K

Storms.

I’ve come to love them.

The rainy days and the angry skies have always meant more to me than sunny days where the sky is clear and the birds chirp happily in the trees. To be honest, sunny days never brought me any type of comfort, not like they do to most humans. Rainy days did and to this day they still do. I guess rainy days are more in sync with not only my mood but my soul. I preferred them way before the Russian walked into my world with his bored and empty expression and soulful gray eyes that remind me so much of the sky when it rages. Eyes that remind me of an angry storm.

I missed those eyes. I’ve been missing them for years. That is a truth I won’t ever say out loud or share with anyone. Especially with him. My feelings towards Vitali Solonik are mine and mine alone.

Here at this moment where he’s lost to the world and he can’t see me, I allow myself to feel everything I’ve been suppressing since I was a young girl.

Shutting the door behind me, I walk closer to the bed and look down at him. I realized this was the first time I had ever seen him in this state and I’m not just referring to his—naked from the waist up—state but so… human, and so hurt. His face is logically gorgeous, model-like in its symmetry. He has a high, straight nose, defined cheekbones, and a jaw so sharp, it could cut through stone. The grim lines around his mouth reveal that he’s in pain. Taking a seat next to him, I try to not move around too much, not wanting to disturb his sleep. The pressure in my chest deepens when my eyes travel from his face down to his torso where he has blood-stained bandages covering his bullet wounds. The image of him jerking violently from the impact of bullets coming from behind him comes to mind and I see red.

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