4-Witnessing His Dirty Deed

Lavender:

I had quickly stepped back from him, fixing my posture to show him obedience. "I live with my uncle every few months. It's an agreement between my mom and my uncle."

I made up an excuse to leave, rubbing my hands nervously and keeping my eyes down.

"But you just came back. Your mom told me about the agreement and everything. So don't think I don’t know," he had a strange calmness to his tone—both fake and real at the same time, if that made any sense.

"Umm! I’ll just go and stay with him a little longer. I don’t think I’ll get the nursing job here anyway," I continued making up another lie. I had already been asked to start working at a private hospital as one of the housing nurses. 

"You don’t have to worry about that either." He pulled his arms back and clasped his hands behind him, standing tall at 6 feet 3 inches.

"Please let me go. I swear I won’t tell a soul." That was it—I had to come clean and tell him I was too scared to stay here.

He tilted his head, his handsome features now intimidating and frightening. Before meeting him, I never believed a good-looking person could be scary enough to make someone shiver just by existing.

"You stood in my manor, my home, and dared to tell your mother about me. And you want me to believe you won’t do it again once you’re out of my sight?" he drawled, his eyes cold and locked onto my face.

"But I wouldn’t—" I just wanted to get out of his manor and away from their grasp.

"Shushhh!" He pressed a finger to his lips and leaned over me, making me lean back as far as I could to put distance between us. He was so terrifyingly tall and broad that I feared he could break me if he put his hands on me.

"Out there, you’re just a pathetic bastard child. Vulnerable. Alone. But here, with us? You’re untouchable. No one dares lay a hand on you. No one even dares speak your name without my permission. Do you understand what that means?" he sneered in a deep, velvety voice, tilting his head and watching me like a predator.

"That I’m trapped and have to follow your rules!" I lamented, keeping my posture steady even though my knees were giving out.

"Only if you choose to see it that way." He placed a hand behind me on the wall and casually leaned in, his free hand slipping into his pants pocket.

"You stay, and you have everything—wealth, protection, influence. And even family! Didn’t you want your mother’s acceptance after you and your father ruined her life? You can have me as your brother and never fear anything again. Or you can walk away, and you’ll have nothing but fear. So tell me, Lavender… are you really willing to throw away the power of being my family?" His voice sliced through the silence, his slow blinking making me even more afraid of his intentions.

"So, you get to make a decision. The choice is yours," he said, slipping his hand down and smoothly adjusting his cufflinks before turning to walk away.

In minutes, he was out of the room and had slammed the door shut hard enough to knock one of the frames off the wall, sending it crashing to the floor.

I was devastated. Never had I ever thought of having a brother—especially not like him. But there was a hint of a threat in his words. I sat down, rubbing my palms together, my eyes drifting to the clock.

I then saw the magazines in my bag. I wanted to spend time, waiting for the night to arrive. I focused on Easton, the only man I had ever loved. 

There was no information about his family background, except for the general knowledge that they were wealthy businessmen.

For a few months, I had worked as a PR and a speechwriter for him, writing heartfelt speeches since he was too shy and introverted to do it himself.

"You keep my hopes alive in this world," I whispered, hugging his picture.

He was far away. I had never met him.

But I wished, more than anything, that I could hold him one day.

Yet it was impossible.

He was a celebrity.

And I was nothing.

Nobody else came to see me for hours, and I assumed my mother and stepsisters had already gone to bed. Of course, Mother didn’t come to see my face—she must have been furious. And Nikon had probably told her he would take care of everything, which was why he came to talk to me instead of her.

But now what?

"I cannot stay here," I said firmly, getting up from the bed and continuing to pack my bag. Not after what I saw at the café. The way he recklessly killed those people, as if their lives meant nothing, was heartless. He had no empathy—his eyes were lifeless, and his voice was like a demon hypnotizing its prey.

I waited until midnight to sneak out. He would never willingly let me walk away. So after making sure no one was outside my room, I slipped out with the bag over my shoulder.

The manor looked even scarier in the dark, with the lights out. My mom and stepsisters had their bedrooms somewhere along with the brothers and Mr. Volkov, but I had been asked to stay in the guestroom for a day.

By the time I reached the foyer, ducking low and walking on tiptoes, I heard the sharp, rhythmic clicks of shoes echoing against the walls. Someone was heading toward the foyer from outside.

I saw shadows of men approaching, and panic surged through me. Spinning around, I ran as fast as I could and slipped into the first room I found in my path. It was an even darker space, dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner. A long nine-seater sofa took up most of the space on one side of the room.

As soon as I heard the footsteps stop right outside, I bolted behind the sofa, knelt down, and ducked low to stay hidden.

The door swung open, and the low scraping sound of something being dragged inside echoed through the room.

The sudden silence made me believe they had stopped moving, and then loud, heavy footsteps cut through the stillness. I lifted my eyes and noticed a shiny vase on one of the side tables, reflecting the scene back to me.

There were men in black standing before the sofa, with a badly injured and wounded man on the floor.

And then there was the devil himself, strolling in casually before settling onto the sofa.

"Ugh! There is nothing in the world like the smell of fresh blood and—" he paused, "a freshly lit cigar."

Goosebumps crawled over my skin, my heart pounding in my temples. Of all the rooms, I had to choose this one to hide in?

"What about him, Boss?" one of the men asked.

"Hmmm." Nikon looked around and sighed, smoking his cigar nonchalantly. "Leave me with him."

His order was followed instantly, his men exiting the room without hesitation. Now, it was just the three of us.

And—silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that made my heartbeat sound deafening in my ears. He was waiting for something, almost too calmly.

I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness of the room would keep me hidden, but his voice sliced through the tension, smooth and cold like ice:

"Isn’t there an oath that doctors take to help the wounded? Why don’t you come out and help him, little sister?"