Page 17 of Unspoken

"Running away? Really?" I spit out the words. "So that's your grand finale when you've got hitmen mapping every freckle on your back?"

"Get stuffed," he snaps, yanking at his arm. I let him go now that we’re face to face. "I don't need your protection," he whispers, fumbling with his T-shirt.

"I don’t care. My job is to make sure you stay alive by any means necessary." My fury is simmering into a low boil. This kid is going to be the death of me. "And all you know is how to piss off the very people trying to keep you safe. You wouldn’t last a day without Daddy's money cushioning your fall."

"Fuck you," he snarls. "You don't know anything—"

"I know that you're an entitled spoiled brat who has no idea how to be an adult."

His green eyes blaze with something raw as he glares at me. "And you have no idea what it’s like to have your father shot. To live with that knowledge that someone executed him."

The punch of his words lands deep in my gut, stirring the coals of memories I've tried so hard to bury. My father's face flashes before my eyes the day he left for work and never came back.

I want to shake this whiny little shithead, make him feel an ounce of the pain he's dredging up inside me, but I stand rigid, a statue carved from rage and restraint.

"Everyone has their own hell," I say. "But that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole."

"Doesn't stop you, does it?" His accusation is a blade, twisting in the wound.

"Enough," I snap. "We’re done for the day. We're going home."

"I haven’t bought anything! I still need summer clothes," he tries to defy my orders.

I nudge him in the direction of the car instead, my hand briefly landing on his upper back. "You can buy it online."

We walk to the Navigator in silence. The Vegas sun beats down on us without mercy, making the asphalt beneath our feet shimmer like a desert mirage.

I can feel Alexander’s displeasure radiating off him, an aura of raw, untamed fury that matches the heat of the day.

"You pull another disappearing act, and you'll answer to your brother," I supply, unlocking the car.

"Maybe I wanted some fresh air," he says with a sneer, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe I'm sick of being babysat by a washed-up police officer."

I swallow the verbal abuse because I need money. Instead, I slide into the driver's seat and start the car.

He follows suit, slamming the passenger door with more force than necessary.

The drive back is tense and quiet, a battleground where words are weapons too dangerous to wield. We're both armed tothe teeth, but neither of us dares to fire the first shot. As I weave through traffic, my grip on the steering wheel tightens until my knuckles turn white.

I glance over at Alexander when we approach a red light. His profile is set in stone, but his leg bounces with nervous energy. He's a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. But so am I, and we both know it.

If he wants war, fine by me. I’ll give him war.

CHAPTER 6

SASHA

I slump in the leather seat of Vlad's Navigator, staring out at the neon streets that glow alluringly under the streetlamps. I'm not in the mood to be an arsehole tonight, so I'm in the back. Logan's hands grip the wheel like he's strangling it and I'm glad I'm still pissing him off.

It's been a couple of weeks since the shopping center debacle where I tried legging it, only for Logan to catch me and give me an earful. He lectured me as if I were a bloody schoolboy caught nicking sweets, not a grown man attempting a dash for freedom. Freedom that I deserve despite what my brother thinks.

Fucking self-centered wanker.

"Can't believe you're still here," I mutter, picking at the frayed edges of my ripped jeans. I've tried everything to get rid of him: hiding his keys in the freezer, putting salt in his coffee, gluing his shit together, even threatening him with a lie that my brother doesn’t like him and found a replacement. Yet here he is, mostly unbothered, like nothing's amiss.

I know he's all mad on the inside, but the arsehole won't show it and won't quit. I'm not certain what else to do at this point.

"Your brother wouldn't appreciate me abandoning my post," Logan replies to my earlier comment. Pause. "For your information, going to Vlad's club isn’t a good idea." He glances at me through the rearview mirror.

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