Page 23 of Bound By You

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps from behind me, and I quickly pull out my trusty Glock and point it at the intruder's head. I roll my eyes, and of course, he fucking found me.

"Isn't this the part where you put the gun down,malen'kaya ptitsa?"

I snort. "I think I'd rather keep it where it is, thanks. What are you doing here, Alex?" As I talk to him, his eyes take me in, devouring me, and I see them linger on my tattoo. I see his emotions as clear as day crossing his face: sadness, heartbreak, and sorrow when he notices they're sparrows.

I once asked him about the endearment.

"Why, little bird?" I asked, and he looked at me.

"Because you're my sparrow, my joy."

Then he kissed me.

What absolute bullshit! If I were his joy, he wouldn't have fucked my sister.

He looks back at me and says, "I'm here to get my fiancée back." He says it with so much emotion that it almost,almostmakes me want to give in and go to him, but then I remember what a pig he is, and decide against it. I put my gun back in its spot in the back of my pants, and I turn around to look at the weasel's car.

"Sorry to disappoint, Alex, but that ship sailed long before you got yourself a coke head mistress." I can feel him behind me; he's moved, so his front is nearly touching my back—but not touching, probably knowing I'll break his arm. Or at least try. Heisthird-in-command to a Pahkan, so he's well-trained, too.

I feel his breath against my neck, and I close my eyes. This sucks; I've fucking missed him so much, but he slept with my sister.

"I know I fucked up Phoebs; I only got a mistress to punish you for leaving me; I didn't know you left because of what I did behind closed doors until last week." He tries to pacify me, and I snap. Is he serious? Behind closed doors, really? Is he really trying to downplay the fact that he fucked my fucking sister, and continued to fuck her when I left like it was okay?

I turn around fast—so fast that he takes a step back. I grab a throwing star simultaneously and hold it against his neck. He lifts both of his hands up, but not out of fear. More to prove he won't do anything,

"Behind closed doors? Are you fucking serious?" He swallows, realizing what he said to me. "So youfuckmysisterand some slutty whore, probably for fuckingmonths, despite our engagement, and all you can do is label it 'what I did behind closed doors' like you didn’t betray me with myfucking backstabbing sister!" I shout the last bit, and he takes anotherstep back, eyes wide. Not once in the years we've been together have I ever raised my voice to him. I kept the throwing star raised between us.

"It was the wrong choice of words, Phoebs. I'm sorry, okay, I fucked up, I know?—"

I don't let him finish. I twist to my side and sidekick him in the stomach. He grunts in surprise and lands on his ass. I walk toward him and lean over him.

"You disgust me. It was bad enough that a slut was trying to get herself knocked up by you, and you were basically letting her by not using protection, but then you go and fuck my sister, who fucking tried to sell me, even after I fucking left! Then you move a disease-ridden coke head into a hotel and make her your mistress. I don't want you anywhere near me. I might be bound by you, Alexandr, but as far as I'm concerned, you no longer exist. I don't know what you said to my uncle to get him to agree to tell you my whereabouts, and I don't give a fuck. Stay away from me, or next time, you'll learn exactly why I'm called the Angel of Death," I sneer, then turn and walk back to the edge of the building. Looking at this weasel's car again, I ignore the pain I saw in his eyes, but the truth fucking hurts. He did this, not me. We'd be married now, on our way to starting a family like we've always talked about, but he decided to addextrashe knew I wouldn't be comfortable with. I don't care if he's Bratva, I don't share, and neither does he, so I don't understand why he would think what he was doing was acceptable.

Fucking Juan. Other than Abby, he is the only one who knows where I am; he did this, and I can guarantee he used time with Sergi as a bargaining chip. I swivel around and point my finger at him.

"If I find out that you've used Sergi as a way to get to me, I swear to fucking God, I will castrate you, Alexandr!" He swallows hard, guilt shining in his eyes, and I know he did. I goup to him and punch him in the lip, slitting it, and he takes it, too, knowing he deserves it.

He wipes his lip and grunts. "Sergi agreed; he didn't have to, either, but I know he wants his cousin back home. We all do." I narrow my eyes at him; clearly, Sergi's told them who he is to me. I turn my back on him, go back to the edge of the building again, and lean down, keeping myself hidden while still being able to see the bastard who's going to meet his Maker. I try to hide my guilt for hitting Alex, even though he deserved it for forcing Sergi into a meeting with a man who didn’t claim him until it suited him. I love my uncle, but what he did was wrong, and he knows it.

I look at my watch again. 9:55 PM. I sigh. Just over an hour to go. And this is where I stay, at the edge of the building, watching and waiting. I can feel Alex is still on the roof with me. I can feel his eyes watching me, studying the new me. Well, the new tohim. I've been this girl since I was ten. I ignore him, and we stay quiet. Then, finally, the sick bastard appears, and I stand, straightening, causing Alex to stand and look over the edge as well.

I smirk. "Well, hello there, darling, it's about time you showed," I sneer evilly. Alex's eyebrows shoot up, and he steps away from me, clearly not used to this Phoebe. I grab my gloves from my pocket and put them on; I don't need any DNA around. Then, I take out my throwing star from my top and examine it. I remove the plastic film that covers it, and Alex's brows furrow.

"Malen'kaya ptitsa, I don't think that will work from up here."

I smirk at him, then look at Thompson. I flex my wrist as Alex raises his brows, shocked that I will attempt this. This won't be the first time I've done this; we're only four stories high.

Just as Thompson is about to enter his crappy rust bucket, I throw the star, flexing my wrist at the same time, and it imbeds itself nicely in the side of his neck. I chuckle and look at my ex.

"You were saying?" I look back at the weasel and watch him choke on his own blood while trying to grab the star in the side of his neck.

Five minutes later, he's in a heap on the ground, and I get my burner phone out, dialing my uncle's number. He answers on the second ring.

"Angel," he answers calmly, but I can hear the hesitation.

I sneer, "Job complete, and don't fucking bother calling me for a week, or I'll travel to Spain and make my lovely aunt a widow. You've betrayed meandforced Sergi into something he is not ready for in the same night."

He sighs. "Now, sweetheart, I only have your best interest at heart. He—” I hang up on him, then take a loose brick and smash the burner. I pick up the pieces and place them in a plastic bag. I'll burn them once I get home.

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