4: Birds of a feather fight together

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IVAN

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IVAN

The air turned tense as soon as the elevator doors opened with a cheerful ding. I took a deep breath as I exited the elevator and entered the lobby. I could feel the palpable uneasiness whenever I decided to venture outside my office. Most of my employees dreaded whenever I made an appearance. I knew why, and I couldn't blame them. The company was new, they wanted to keep their jobs, and I worked like a madman on a mission with a quote so high it reached the fucking stratosphere.

I must've looked like a madman. Several people moved out of the way as I walked past them, and a lady to my left squeaked out their apologies before scurrying off into the elevators. I was in a bad mood that I couldn't shake off. Irritation clings to me like moss on an old window. This was such a shitty day and it wasn't even four pm. I'm sure it was happy hour somewhere in the world. My neck and back ached from falling asleep at my desk, maybe a drink or two wouldn't be so bad.

Two figures stood out on the sidewalk, covered in the shadow of my building. Nikolai stood tall and proud, glaring over the rim of his sunglasses at anyone who walked past him. I could tell that he was tense, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his foot tapping impatiently against the pavement. His Sandy coulees hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles. Next to him was Felix, dressed sharp and clean with his brown hair slicked back and his eyes hidden behind cool shades that betrayed no emotion. He toyed with the keys to the car, twirling them around his fingers as he waited.

Both dressed in their black suits and sunglasses. One was a reliable guard who was armed to the teeth and the other had just spent a night In jail because they punched someone in the face. It wasn't hard to guess who was who. Both of them shared irritated and impatient looks as I walked out. They must've been waiting a long time for me. Especially, Nikolai. He ousted his sunglasses down and gave me a glaring look, tapping his foot and crossing his arms over his chest like an unsatisfied customer at a soup shop.

I don't know what's gotten into the kid as of late but he's been on edge and reckless. Anya said it was because of dad. I wasn't so sure it was just because of dad.
Was dad the best dad? No, not really. There were times I wanted to punch him in the face. Did he love us? You bet your ass he did. He stood behind his family through thick and thin. But.....he had his issues and we just dealt with them. I'm starting to realise that the more I see Nik.

Not everyone handled his death well. It was sudden and so unexpected, the gutted-out feeling never went away no matter how much time I spent in his study. Grief had laid itself upon my home like an unpiercing, thick veil. And I had no idea what to do with it. Anya just worked in the garden, planting roses. Sometimes I would pretend that I didn't hear her crying when I would come outside to get her. Grief did funny things to your head. It fucked with you and left you a complicated mess. It made you question normal things. I'm not used to the vulnerability that came with it. I wasn't even sure if I was supposed to feel relief or anger or hatred—-hell, maybe all three!

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