Page 1 of Destined for the Devil
1
Don’t Let Go
Roman
Ididn’ttakecareof small shit like this. Tonight wasn’t about orders or delegating to my men. Tonight was personal. I wanted to watch himburn.I was going to stand outside the window and watch himsuffer.
He was nobody, but he took something monumental from me. He killed my sister—my one and only family on this continent, on this planet. She was joy and happiness. A special girl. I loved and will forever love her with all my heart. We survived together through everything, but her light never dimmed.
It happened five years ago. Five years of loss, of absence, of regret.
For so long, I was buried in the gutters of despair that I couldn't even begin to think of revenge. I was broken, devastated, unable to climb out of bed. It took me a while to put the pieces together, to unravel the events of that night. But once I finally did, I only had to wait for the right moment.
He changed a few places over the last two years but had been comfortably living on the first floor of this rental house for a while now. He relaxed. I had already taken care of the one who ordered the hit, but he was the last one—the one who trapped her, the one who did the deed.
The two-story house lit up like a box of matches within literal minutes, and I stood at the side and took it all in. Flames raced up into the sky, and the fire roared, but I heard his yells. Enjoyed them. Tied up in the middle of the room that was all cleared for my viewing pleasure, hewrithed. Hescreamed. Called for God. And that’s exactly what I wanted to see.
Heat overtook the air, swallowing all oxygen, but I powered through it, standing by the window to watch as the fire devoured him. But my moment of satisfaction was rudely interrupted by a loud crash somewhere nearby. Shards of glass rained down on me, and I looked up just in time to see someone climbing out of the second-story window.
A young woman.
Blood streaked her naked legs, and she stumbled down the fire escape, half-collapsing and clutching the railing. Absolutely stunned at this new development, I watched how she coughed and gasped for air, her cries louder than the inferno.
Who the fuck was this, howthe fuckdid she end up upstairs? The thought flew through my head, but my legs were involuntarily making their way toward her.
I could see it—the fire escape ladder ended way too high; she wouldn’t make it. Just as she tried to jump off and down, her hand slipped.
I caught her right in time.
She landed in my arms with a sharp cry, her body shaking, her nails digging into my neck as she clung to me with all her strength. Her smooth skin shone in the light of the blazing fire beside us. She wore a white silk nightie with thin straps, which was now all covered in black soot.
I looked down at her in my embrace, unable to move. My arms locked around her like steel, my eyes burned through her, and my mind went blank. I couldn't believe that someone was on the second floor of this bastard's house! Especially a young woman who looked innocent and in overt pain.
Completely forgetting why I was there, I walked away from the raging fire with her in my arms, abandoning the whole reason for tonight.
"No, no, no, don't let go, don't let go!" The girl whined when I tried to place her in the front seat of my car.
I quickly inspected her legs, and it looked fuckingrough.Deep crimson cuts decorated the back of her thighs and knees. She must have sliced them open when she climbed out of the broken window.
Goddamn, she was half conscious. Her eyes were closed, and she clenched her teeth in agony, slumping over herself in the front seat. I didn’t think; I moved on instinct and jumped behind the steering wheel, slamming on the gas.
The girl coughed and breathed heavily as she leaned against the window, unable to open her eyes. I sped up, ignoring red lights and stop signs, calling Sergei on the way.
Half an hour later, she lay on my bed while Sergei worked on her cuts. He removed shards of glass, cleaned the wounds, and began sewing them up when she finally spoke up. "That hurts so much..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. I stood back and watched the scene unfold in front of me.
"Be patient,” Sergei snapped, and it dawned on me how rough he always was. "This will hurt. I don't have much to numb it with." He was sewing her up without any pain meds, and she took it all, silently crying and biting the edge of my pillow.
She was either becoming delirious from the pain or simply passing out from exhaustion. Her eyes never opened, and she only lightly whimpered with every pull of the thread.
Once Sergei was done, it felt like a whole fucking year had passed by, but the girl didn't move and still lay obediently on my bed, waiting for the unknown man to finish working on her injuries.
"Done. Give her extra-strength painkillers, and don't fucking call me for this shit next time. Take your fuck buddies to emergency. Fuck, Roma, it's two in the morning!" Sergei accused me like usual. Whatever.I'd known him since I was a kid; we got into the same awful shit. The least he could do was a favor in the middle of the night.
"I don't even know her, and I'm so sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep," I responded with sarcasm, walking out of the room after him and leaving the delirious girl there, my eyes lingering on her a little longer than I wanted.
"Who is she then?" he asked when he got to the foyer.
What a great question. No fucking clue. And I had no idea why on earth I brought her here instead of the emergency department. Should have just dropped her off and left.
