Page 79 of Unleash Hades
“That’s true,” I chuckled. I was no threat to any man’s marriage. “But that seems like a flaw in his thinking, not yours. Alastair can’t marry the Vixen, and expect her to turn into a pet.”
I shrugged, though I could practically see the wheels in her head turning, and turning. She wanted this. As much as Brett Bradley had turned her into a spy, the Underground was where she belonged. This was her passion. And it had been ripped from her by the bratva.
But she could still have this. The crowd, the fights, the cheering crowd. She could still fight, if she wanted to. But it was too dangerous. As the daughter of two Mafias, there was too big a target on her back. One hidden razor blade in a glove, a payout, a bounty… and she would go down, and Hell would rain in after her as her husband, her father, and all their allies salted the earth, and burned their enemies to the ground in retaliation.
Finally, I said, “Madness is loving something for what it is, then demanding that it change.”
Chapter 27
Calissandra
“Holy Hades.” My heartfluttered in my chest.
He had won. My Hugo had won the match.
“I will say, he seems quiteinvigoratedfrom the last fight.” Bellamy smirked like the devil, his finger twirling idly in the air.
A small, blossoming hope existed inside me… that if he could win this, then he could win other things too. Even againstRichard. It was a damning hope. Pandora’s Hope in the bottom of all the world’s pestilence.
Rose had pumped her fist in the air, smiling like a predator. She was thrilled by the turn of events.
The She-Bear watched too, from the audience.
“She’ll be the last to fight tonight,” Bellamy said, inclining his head towards the strongly-built woman. “She’s been attracting a lot of attention, and she’s the big finale.”
He wrinkled his nose as if he was thinking of some mischief. Then he slapped his thigh and got up.
“Let’s go talk to her.” I was going to ask him why when he grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stand.
I planted my feet, and pried my hand from his grasp. He looked at me, his brows knitted in confusion. A thousand expressions crossed his eyes. Then he leaned forward, and in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, he whispered, “If you want to tie Richard to any of this, she’s your key.”
Stunned, I froze in place.
He shook his head, as if getting back into character, and fluffed his ascot. Then in that loud, boisterous, high-pitched sing-songy voice he said, “Suit yourself!”
He walked down the aisle with the swagger of a man who thoroughly believed he had a right to move through this world without being questioned - orange suit and all!
“Aldon! Yoohoo!” He said, with a frantic, limp-wristed wave, his fingers jazz-fingering as he jumped up and down. “Aldon! It’s me! Coucou!”
Aldon, who he had previously pointed out, was sitting with a woman with the delicate bones and figure of a supermodel. She looked at Bellamy with a smirk, her eyes roaming his outrageous clothes, as Aldon covered his mouth, badly hiding a smile, even as his shoulders shook with laughter.
Having gotten his attention, Bellamybounceddown the aisle until he came to the She-Bear. I followed him. Not because I thought he was right about the possibility of ending the torture that was Richard… but I was curious.
“Zdorovat'sya,” Bellamy said, taking me by surprise as I came up beside him.
The She-Bear was sitting with her entourage. The girl with the covered face was at her right. She looked at Bellamy with the same expression that everyone else did. Part shock, then judgment, and that hostile mockery that we kept to our deep inner thoughts.
“Ty govorish' po-russki, pa-druga?” I stared at the side of Bellamy’s face in disbelief.
From the side of his mouth, he loudly said, “I’ve just said hello, and asked her if she speaks Russian.”
“I do not,” the She-Bear came to her feet, jutting out her chin. “I am Ukrainian.” She thumped a fist on her chest. “And English will do fine.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Bellamy flapped his arms in joy. “I was just curious if you’ve had any run-ins with a certain fellow, English, about this high,” He indicated the height with his palm facing the ground, clocking Richard at around the height of his eye line. “Brown hair, brown eyes, really forgettable features. Probably smells like Chanel Number 5, though God knows why he thinks he can pull that off.”
He acted like Richard put that perfume on as a choice, and not as a byproduct of dousing his mistress in the scent to fulfill his French girl kink.
“Goes by the name Richard?” Bellamy inspected his shiny blue nails.
