God of Vengeance : Vaughn x OC

CHAPTER 3 : KATERINA

KATERINA

My flight to Brighton Island was seven hours of indulging in champagne and meals that looked like the murder ground of a multi-coloured unicorn. The only thing filling about the meal was the plate itself.

Normally, I would take some commercial flight to remain inconspicuous, but guilt-tripping Kyle into letting me take his private jet was the best decision I made.

I hadn't spoken to Kyle or Godfather after the deal I made with Kirill Morozov. And I didn't plan to either. Not for a while.

Once I get to the mansion my steps are careful as I drift to what seems to be the front garden of a mansion. The giant building sits in the far distance with the imposing presence of a Gothic chapel.

Viper is at my heel, eyeing the structure with evident disinterest. I had insisted on bringing him along for this little trip. I wasn't going to let myself be at the mercy of sycophants who wouldn't even think twice before putting a bullet in my head. I'm not an idiot, though I was foolish enough to be roped into this glorified babysitting job.

Everything about this place reeks of distortion. Some of that sensation has to do with the fact that the mansion is vast, old, has cathedral vibes, and could be used to perform satanic rituals. It stands tall with three stories, separate wings, and two eastern towers that I suppose are used for surveillance.

"This place looks like it was designed by someone who hates joy," Viper mutters, his tone laced with sarcasm.

As we approach the main door, a guard steps forward, demanding our IDs. We provide them without fuss, and he scrutinises them before finally allowing us entry.

A swish of air throws my hair in my eyes and I swear a shadow creeps up behind me. I whirl around just in time-a body clashes into mine from behind and a tattooed arm, full of skulls and ravens, snakes around my shoulder as I'm assaulted by the stench of alcohol and weed.

Nikolai Sokolov, the eldest in the Sokolov family's burly frame wraps around me in a bro hug as he all but lifts me-I suppress a wince when he squeezes my bad shoulder.

While Mia and Maya take after Rai and her identical twin sister, this brute takes after Kyle. They share the chameleon eye shade of turquoise blue, some of the same body structure, and dark hair-though Nikolai wears his long.

It's currently tied in a low ponytail at his nape, which highlights his unwelcoming, grim face. Truthfully speaking he's actually handsome, but you have to look past his usual manic expression to see that.

Also, he's shirtless more often than not-now included. And that puts all his hedonistic, scary tattoos on display for the world to see.

He is the perfect recipe for a disaster waiting to happen.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Katerina Romanova," Nikolai's voice booms in the room. His eyes gleam and his grin is downright psychopathic as he says, "Hello motherfucker."

"I am the same age as you," I elbow him in the ribs, hard enough to make a point, without masking my reaction to his blasphemous act of touching me. "And it's Katherine Salvini for now."

"Katherine Salvini? Oh, we're getting fancy now, aren't we?"

"Just keep your fat mouth shut about it."

His eyes narrow as picks up the end of my long braid, and scoffs at the section just above my shoulders where the brown strands start to lose their warmth of colour and slowly fade to a steely, metallic silver by the ends, and then drops it.

"Why the fuck do you like Cruella de Vil?"

I suppress the urge to throw him into the nearest ditch. "I am not going to take fashion critiques from someone who insists on dressing like a freaking caveman twenty-four-seven."