𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

for u cuties xo
i risk my pride and dignity and reputation in school by using my laptop to write chapters in my study periods but heyyy i write best during those times <3

Without further adieu, enjoy this chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

"That stupid, stupid arrogant man," I growl, turning to face Kai and Feliks. "Why on earth would he purposely smash his camera to pieces? And he's turned off his communications thing too."

I catch them off guard, because they both have the oh shit I didn't do it faces.

"Did you just call him a bastard?" Feliks chokes.

"Yes..." I go silent before continuing, "but that's not the point."

"That's so not fair, if I called him a bastard he'd punch me in the gut– correction he did punch me in the gut," Feliks groans.

"Do you see where we're coming from now, Devi?" Kai asks me with a quizzical brow.

I swallow the urge to roll my eyes and instead press my lips into a firm line. I turn around grabbing the keys off the counter trying to ignore what they said before.

I dangle the keys in the air. "I'm driving– and Grisha says you have to contact some guy called Santos and tell him you're coming early."

When I walk out the door towards the jeep, I inhale deeply trying to grasp some sense and balance out of the fresh air.

Attention whore. Whore.

I never cared about what people said– or acted like it, so why does it affect me now?

We already had a doctor, but we released her for you. He's so infatuated with you I almost think he's foolish enough to muck up on purpose so he can get your undivided attention and your hands all over him.

...

The Russian don has a bullet in his shoulder.

I glance at Kai to see him shrug smugly at me. He runs a hand through his blonde hair.

"There's no way I can remove that," I tap my shoe on the floor whilst I stand in the jet with my arms folded staring at him. I turn to the rest of them, "Call Lev."

When I sit down opposite Sasha, from the corner of my eyes I see him frown. He leans back on his seat, not moving his shoulder as he rolls his jaw. His large hands grip the arm rests and stretch every few seconds or so and I see his biceps flex. The top few buttons of his dark shirt are undone exposing his chest slightly which glistens with sweat. It rises and falls deeply probably due to the pain flaring all over his body from the gunshot. Legs spread like the manspreader he is of course. Like always his hair is forward and over his eyes a little damp with sweat.

When I look at his grey eyes I find them already staring back at me. Today his grey eyes look sharp enough to be dark glass- the sort that if you grip tightly in your hand it wouldn't break under the pressure. I see endurance in his eyes.

One of the corners of his lips tilt upwards in a smirk.

Dammit, I made him smile. My nostrils flare in annoyance. It wasn't even intentional. Why can't I be like the others and just barely ever see him smile? It'd be easier for me too. My heart and that sappy stuff.

Ladies and gentlemen I'd like to announce my own mission. Depict myself as unattractive as I can. I'm sure if I picked my nose and ate it he'd literally never look at me again but then if I did that then I wouldn't be able to look at myself again, so no thank you.