Page 107 of Viripotent

More proof that I was cursed at birth comes out in a fake sweet voice as she holds up a forefinger on each hand and I could kick her in the face in this position.

“You see, when a mommy loves a daddy, they do a special hug, and a stork will come. The stork will give them a little bundle of joy and they all live happily ever after.” Dropping the bullshit sweet voice, she nods towards Ronald and stands. “The nonce is awake.”

Her accent and vocabulary are weird as fuck, showing she’s been everywhere but lived nowhere.

“How long did you spend in England?”

I’m smug as fuck, knowing I keep catching parts of the kid’s lies and she doesn’t answer as we get to work on our punching bag. Turning to Ronald, I don’t bother with pleasantries and get my anger out of the way. My arm rocks back while he’s still dazedfrom being unconscious and he rocks back as I land a blow to his ribs. The chains screech and pipsqueak scoffs, “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I sound defensive to my own ears, arguing with what I think is a teenager. Or some creature that’s inhabited some poor fucker’s body. She shrugs and moves further away, going to the table set up with weapons. It makes me pause. She doesn’t seem like she’s going to kill me, hopefully she’ll use one of them on herself.

I get back to Ronald and he wheezes through his begging.

“Please, I don’t know who you are.”

That’s a fucking lie. He’s been watching me every night, well five-year-old me. He and his little band of pedophiles have all gloated about me being weak, having no fight. Now it’s my fucking turn. His begging makes me leave my head, and each time I blink brings a new image through.

His cheek is split.

His eye is swollen.

He can’t breathe and I stop taking a step back. He’s punctured his lung, cutting my entertainment short. It’s not enough to finish it completely, just enough so we can have a conversation.

Ignoring the smell of piss, and I’m pretty sure he’s shit himself, the filthy bastard, I wipe my hands of his disgusting bodily fluids. I sound calmer as I curl my hand into a fist to get his blood out of my knuckles. Picking up the towel from the bench of weapons, I fold the fibers to a point to get into each crease between my knuckles as I ask, “Who sent you the video?”

The kid is full of rage and answers when he refuses to. “I know you get that shit from Yulia, where is she?”

I pick up the large hunting knife and take the two steps back to the edge of the plastic. He’s crying harder, begging for his life, but I’m trying to find any memory of someone with that name.

“Please! I don’t know.”

The little shit tries to run at him, and I drag her back by her nape. She swings at me.

What the fuck?

I’m helping her and she’s just a ball of rage.

It’s self-defense and reflexes that have my body reacting and my fist lands on her ribs. The second is just for satisfaction when she gets the wind knocked out of her with a punch to the kidneys. My hand was going to help her up, but Inessa’s call comes through as I throw the knife into my target. Stepping away from the noise machines screaming at each other, I relax, answering the call.

“Where are you?”

Sleep fills her voice, and she sounds adorable as fuck.

Ever since the night I fucked up, my queen keeps checking up on me. For some stupid reason, I like it and haven’t missed a single call. Keeping my answer short as the kid steals my fun, I grumble something that sounds like warehouse. The little shit picks up a knife and my voice is a bark, pissed at her fucking distracting me.

“Put. It. Down.”

Inessa goes silent and steel comes through the speaker.

“Where are you, Vlad?”

I like the way she says my name in that pissy tone and give her my undivided attention.

“Warehouse, what’s wrong?”I answer.

The sheets rustle as she moves, and the brat puts the phone down. Going back to Ronald the reprobate, I admire the work pipsqueak has done. It matches mine. The cuts aren’t deep enough to kill him, and she hasn’t used too much force that he’llshut off. She assigns herself as my junior, copying me at my side as I ask, “How do you speak to Yulia?”

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