Page 35 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Cruelty.

They’re all worse than animals, all of them, and like the filth they are, they will die but first thing first.

An eye for an eye.

“How are you connected to this?” I stand, looking down at him acting calm and collected while I feel the urge to scream and cry. I feel like painting this city red. “Why are you showing me this?” I try to calm my breathing so I can think rationally and not let the rage cloud my judgment.

Vitali leans back, staring at me with an intensity that makes me feel too much all at once while settling the raging fire threatening to break out of me that promises nothing but havoc. “You want to make them bleed?” He says in a bored tone the words I whispered to Azariel when we were in the empty alley. Was he there too? Was he there all along? “You want to end Beauregard, do you not?” The name of that filth causes the anger inside to grow until my hands start to shake.

“How do you know that?” I asked, suddenly feeling anxious. Does he know? And if he does. How much?

The object of my ire and every desire I’ve kept under lock and key looks me in the eye. “I make a point to keep track of every member of rival families that might cause trouble in New York.” His top lip rises in one corner.

I narrowed my eyes, unable to see anything else but that smile. Vitali Solonik’s grin should be illegal. “You’re lying.”

The grin spreads into a wide smile and I have to force myself to look away. “And what if I am?”

What ifs.

Those terrible what-ifs that used to hurt me so much.

Now wanting to get lost in the painful past and dwell on what he means by that, I ask instead. “What do you want, Solonik?”

He stays quiet for a long moment while I focus on the art hanging on the walls. Art that tells the story of a thousand wars fought by greedy men and brave men alike. Not a woman can be found in the paintings. Ironically women these days start wars and even finish them.

“I want to help.” Vitali’s deep voice breaks through the chaos in my head bringing me back. Back to the moment. To him.

Help.

How many times have I wished for someone to help us when the devil had us in his grip? No one helped and so I endured until I could save my-damn-self. Angry at the world. At the fuckers who made me this bitter and angry. Mad at the Russian that is currently setting my skin aflame with his gaze. “I don’t need your help,” I say through gritted teeth while looking at his face now.

The smile is long gone and in its place, there’s that infuriating emptiness and boredom that I’ve come to hate after witnessing just how beautiful the Russian looks when he smiles. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, it makes parts of me come alive when they’ve been dead and useless for a long time.

“I know.” My eyes clash with those grays holding me captive. I wonder if my eyes have the same effect on him. Does he also feel like he can’t find his next breath when our eyes meet? It couldn’t possibly be, right? Not him. Men like Vitali usually fall for the type of woman who makes the world brighter with just one smile and a soft-spoken word. Like Cara Volpe does to Lorenzo and my little sister to her giant jackass. Women like me are not bubbly and we don’t light up anyone’s world. Not even our own. We make it darker. “You don’t need my help, Kadra but I’m offering it anyway.” He leans back on the chair and crosses his arms over his tattooed chest. “The men who followed you and shot me that night. They’re not after you or your family. They’re after me.”

Thump.

Thump.

Crack.

Grinding my teeth feeling pain in my chest I say, “Why? Who did you piss off?” Ignoring the intense chaos in my head and my chest. The chaos the man in front of me has unleashed.

“Do you like fairy tales, love?” Vitali asks.

Fairy tales?

That almost makes me laugh.

Almost.

“I do not,” I answered him truthfully.

He uncrosses his arms and my eyes follow the movement. All those muscles and hard ridges on his skin are on full display. I bet women go crazy and lose their minds over his sheer beauty. His masculinity and all that confidence he possesses without even having to utter a single word. And why do I feel the urge to shove my knife deep inside the chest of anyone who looks at him the way I am now? I’ve never felt jealous or felt threatened by any woman before so why now?

You know why…

“Good.” Vitali motions for me to take a seat and for some reason, I don’t care to admit, I do as he says instead of fighting him like I always do. It’s easier to fight than to succumb to this man. “Because the story I’m about to tell you is not a fairytale and it doesn’t have a happy ending.”

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