Snakes In The Grass

Chapter 9

I wasn't stupid enough to question where I was or who took me.

It reeked of one person, and I was furious.

When I woke up, I was on a bed that was bigger than any bed I had ever seen. The room screamed money and ignorance. I got up and smoothed my clothes out, cupping my stomach for a moment before going to the door and testing the handle.

It wasn't locked and I slipped out of the room, walking quietly along the wood floor. It was polished and gleamed under the lights, so much so that I could see my reflection in it. I made it to the stairs and climbed down them, my eyes moving over everything I could see.

The first thing I noticed when I got to the stairs was the security system that was on the wall by the door. I huffed quietly to myself and looked around the hall, creeping down toward what I presumed to be a kitchen. It was big, just like the rest of the house but the windows were open and I ran to it.

We were in the middle of the countryside.

It took everything in me not to throw the vase that was on the counter, and I turned around, looking for another way out. Just to be safe, I grabbed the paring knife out of the butcher's block and tucked it up behind my arm to conceal it.

It was a house, that much I knew, but it was like a prison. The windows had sensors and the system needed a code to disarm it. I kept moving through the house and went downstairs, following the hallway there.

I opened the door slowly and found the snake sitting behind his desk.

"Oh good, you're awake," he mused as he looked over a handful of papers in his hands.

"Did I stutter when I told you that I would slit your throat? Don't think that you being my sperm donor changes that," I scoffed with a shake of my head.

"I think I'd prefer the term father," he said without looking up from the papers.

"I think I'd prefer dead, but then again, you were a deadbeat dad."

Ibrahim looked up from the papers with a slight glare. "That's enough," he said.

"What? You gonna try and kill me again? I'm sure Janine would love that. It's not like she's tried to keep me away from you for the last eighteen years."

"Fourteen," Ibrahim corrected as he stood up, "And I have no intentions of killing you."

"Now," I bit out.

"Never. That was an accident."

"But you had no problems trying to kill Dimitri."

"He needed to learn his place," Ibrahim snapped, and I rolled my eyes, placing one hand on my hip.

"You're fucking delusional. Do you really think that would bode well for you? If anything it'd make me hate you even more than I do right now."

Ibrahim ran his hand through his curly hair and came around his desk, coming to stand in front of me.

"You don't hate me."

"I hate anyone who tries to kill the people I love. You couldn't hurt Dimitri, and instead, you almost killed me and my daughter in one fell swoop. I don't think there isn't a bone in my body that doesn't loath your very existence."

Ibrahim's eye twitched. "Daughter?"

"Yeah, maybe if you weren't a psychopath, Janine wouldn't have felt the need to hide me, and you'd know that I was pregnant. But no, you're just some mobster who thinks he can control everyone and everything."

Ibrahim muttered something in a language I didn't recognize. He seemed a little irritated, but I didn't care that he was irritated, I wanted him to feel just as pissed off as I did.