The Bratva Heir

Jeremy's POV

I take a bite of the red apple and watch the juice slide through my fingers down the length of my arm and on top of the pristine counter. I force myself to ignore it as the tic starts and I count backward in my head.

1011, 1010, 1009, 1008…

The silence of the moment is punctuated by teeth-crushing apple bits and the steady drip of apple juice.

My phone buzzes and I glance at the notification.

Unknown: WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID THAT NIGHT

My incisors bite sharply into the fruit, leaving a gaping hole in its place as the cell pings with another notification from unknown. I count before I read.

999, 998, 997, 996…

Unknown: WE HAVE PROOF

I make a quick work of the fruit and toss it in the bin then find the kitchen rag and vigorously wipe the counter according to my counts before heading to my room.

The apartment is silent until the phone buzzes again. My expression furrows and I remember I have a loose end to bind.

Watching my mother die when I was eight broke something critical