Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 18

long one for u cuties

Nikolas's POV

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a muted glow across the bedroom. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the house settle around me.

I never relied on sleep. My energy came from nights I spent wide-awake, in my study forcing myself to get rid of scrapped identities of men that proved disloyal to the Bratva. Papers and papers inked with numbers, house addresses, and corporate jobs at law firms that somehow forgot to stain counterfeit records. 

Last night, however, my mind wasn't playing tricks on me because of sleep.

It was her screaming that kept me wide awake.

They had a certain terror to it, a blood-curling twinge of red that pierced my mind and kept the neurons fired up. They echoed through the main hall all night, slipping under my study and giving me no time to wait. 

I spent the first minute detached and hasty. Then the second, instinct drove me to find her thrashing in her bed, hair messy and sobs wracking through her chest. The hellish memory haunted her eyes as I jolted her awake. Her eyes widened, but no tears left that nightmarish black stare. It was almost as if she'd been locked up in a fucking trance, her mind giving no way of escape. 

I couldn't help but admit that it bothered me.

Adriana wasn't ashamed of being different. Flaunting her personality, throwing glares at men knowing they wanted her for that same fiery look in her eyes- she was a fucking book, through and through. It was alone, when she had none of that fire to guard her accountability, did I see the reality. And I see truths everyday. Kill for them, fucking torture for them. I don't stop until I find them.

With Adriana, I knew it wouldn't come out until I forced it to.

And after yesterday- after feeling the way she melted into me knowing she wasn't supposed to, it told me that I could easily get what I wanted, with a simple drawl of my fingers. That is, if her fucking stubbornness didn't come out at the same exact time.

I threw off the covers and sat up, running a hand through my hair. I spent the rest of the night with my shirt unbuttoned and neck tense, waiting to look up from the papers I could barely focus on in the attempt that her voice would scratch the doors again. But why it bothered me, why it itched that one complex I never touch, that was something I didn't have the need to confront.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stood and rolled my shoulders, the muscles in my back protesting from the tension. I dressed quickly, pulling on a black T-shirt and sweats. Casual. I needed to look casual, not borderline manic.

I threw a quick glance at her door that now lay fully shut, even though I left it open a crack after the third time I went to check.

As I made my way downstairs, the house was eerily quiet. The staff knew better than to disturb me. I found myself in the kitchen, staring blankly at the coffee maker. I needed the jolt of caffeine, something to ground me. 

I shot Polina a quick text to take the day off, then flicked through my contacts, over Mikhail, and called Luciano instead. God forbid I told my brother I was skipping work and he didn't show up at my doorstep to drag me there. Although I worked directly beside the Pakhan, I had enough room for him to let me do whatever the fuck I wanted. Especially after fulfilling this wish of his.

"If you weren't the Pakhan's golden child, I'd fucking slap you through the phone. It's six in the morning, man."

"I get noticed everytime someone books a booth in my club. Don't act smart when you've been fucking strippers all night."