𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

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without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

With very few people in this room, my focus flicks from man to man trying to gain an idea of what we're up against. Santos is one button away. The rest of Grisha's men are one button away.

His face is ridden with wrinkles and overgrown beard hairs. His stomach lurches over the waistband of his trousers, buttons almost popping. The way he breathes every breath tells me he's out of breath and won't be able to last long fighting or on the run.

I'm not sure who's going to kill him but my hands are tingling with an itching sensation that won't go away until they're wrapping around his neck. The yacht was one of the most dehumanising and humiliating things to ever happen and all I want is to forget it.

But I can't ever possibly forget it; no one ever forgets the bad. So they turn bitter, angry, vengeful. I've felt out of control all this time– and I see this day as an opportunity to take it back.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I hear a quiet crackle. My brows furrow. Before I can inspect, people start moving. As everyone leaves the room, I stay standing next to Grisha, fingers gripping the fabric of his blazer. He looks at me, searching my eyes.

"This doesn't feel real," I swallow, looking around the room, avoiding his piercing grey eyes.

"It's all real, Devi," he murmurs, lifting my chin with two fingers. "It's real as real can be." His lips press against my forehead and my heart starts beating faster. I don't want to let him go, I realise. I fear for him as he fears for me.

"I love you," I whisper quietly, before slipping away.

"So, let us begin," Giuseppe says, his voice fading behind me as I leave the room.

Both Italian men and Russian men stand outside the room, beside the door, guns at the ready and staring at the crumbling walls opposite unflinchingly. As I walk down the dirty half-built hallway, I inspect the structure and begin to wonder if this house will even be standing soon.

I spot Sasha entering an empty room after Pasha, so I follow quickly, not wanting to be the one left behind. When I enter and shut the door behind me, I find Kai frowning at Santos.

"Why on earth are you guys all of a sudden so pissed at me?"

Oh, we're doing this now.

"As the new second in command, I have obligations to fulfil," Santos begins, his dark eyes scrutinising Kai. "and one of them, first and foremost is to fish out of the traitors."

"Okay..." Kai trails off. "So what's this about..." Kai stands upright, "you guys– you guys don't think it's me do you?"

"I don't know," Santos crosses his arms across his chest, "so answer truthfully when I ask, are you the traitor?"

The official question of, 'Are you the traitor?' is thrown out into the room, thickening the tension between us in the air. We need to fish out any possible traitors before the attack and if we have to do it like this we must. Heavy distrust hangs in the air.

Hurt flashes in Kai's eyes. "Me?" he growls. "I've been fucking with you like an obedient dog for years, and you have the nerve to ask me?"

"Pasha, disarm him," Santos orders.

Unease crosses Pasha's features for a second before he obeys. When he walks to Kai, Kai steps back, stopping him.

"What the fuck?" Kai snaps. "Who the fuck has put this in your head? This is insane– downright barbaric. They kidnapped me, cut off one of my goddamn fingers and you accuse me of being a liar?"