Breaking and Entry

Nikolai

So today I choose violence….

Wait that’s not right.

Let’s go again.

Waking up in the heavens blessed sunny Thursday morning, violence had decided to choose me to take its course in my hands, which of course there was no way I would refuse getting my hands soiled in some motherfucker’s blood.

So here I was, pummeling some insolent waste of space, who thought it was a bright idea to cross my path.

I grabbed him by the collar, with him being barely conscious, “You can’t be fucking serious.” I tapped on his cheeks, wanting him to fucking stand up like a man and fucking fight me.

He groaned.

I rolled my eyes, letting him fall, “Absolutely useless.”

“Feeling better?” Clinton stepped into the light, handing me a warm towel.

“Hardly.” But I didn’t take the towel, instead I took off my shirt, which was equally painted with blood. I wiped it down my face before tossing it on the boy.

Rolling his eyes, Clinton stepped forward, placing his fingers on the boy’s neck, and then sighed in relief.

“Relax. He’s still alive.”

“Barely,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles one after the other, the sound sharp in the quiet.

Clinton shot me a look. “That was the point, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer immediately. My gaze stayed on the body at our feet, on the uneven rise and fall of his chest, like even breathing was too much work for him now.

“Just something to get high on. Nothing that should be worth your brain work.” Peeling my eyes off the boy, “What about Krill?”

Clinton shrugged his shoulders, “He’s keeping a low profile.”

“Probably planning on how to get back at us, I’m sure Jeremy already has his minions keeping tabs on him.” I twisted my neck.

“Jeremy is way too obsessed with the initiation. He wouldn’t want anything to go wrong, and speaking of things going wrong, I got some intel on your new obsession.”

My brows lifted.

Clinton walked over, pulling out something from his bag, before handing it over.

Giving him a questioning look, I ripped open the envelope, and my oh my.

What do we have here.

It’s none other than my pretty nerdy boy.

Pictures of him from different angles and different locations perfectly captured him. I rolled my tongue, caressing the photos. Looking so innocently perfect from every angle.

Thoroughly looking through every one of them, I paused on a particular one.

“And who is this bitch?” I tapped on the photo, which had captured him in a car with a girl behind the wheel.

“Reina Solis.”

“And?” I impatiently snapped at Clinton.

“I haven’t fully gotten information about his relationship with her, but she had driven him to a local coffee shop downtown—”

“Get the car, we are going there.” I deadpanned, turning around.

Clinton jogged up to match my strides, “Can you just calm down a minute, Niko? Christ, you look like you’re ready to murder the both of them. What about following your grand plan?”

“No interest in that anymore.”

I can’t fucking believe that the prick is out going on pretty coffee dates, after he had fucking messed with me. The nerve for him to be relaxed.

I will fucking mash his head, and bury his body where the sun doesn’t shine.

Clinton immediately blocked my path, “You need to get your shit together, Nikolai.”

“Move, Clinton, or be my bloody guest.”

“If you go there you’re going to ruin everything, and might end up killing him, and if that happens there’s no way you’re getting any information from him, and your brother is going to have your head.”

“Liam can fuck himself.”

“That’s not the damn point, Niko. What I’m trying to say is that you have to stick to the plan, and I have my people tailing him, and soon enough we will know his relationship with her, so please don’t go there and fuck things up.”

Breathe, Niko….. whispered the voice.

As slowly the blood which blurred my vision cleared, and the suffocating intense feeling to kill dropped.

“Okay…..” Clinton added carefully.

Dropping the thoughts, I muttered, “I’m hitting the ice.” Because even if I looked like I had my shit together, my head was a mess.

Clinton studied me for a second, then nodded. “Good. That’s… actually good.”

I didn’t respond. I just walked past him, grabbing a clean shirt from the back of a chair and dragging it over my head as I moved. The fabric was cold against my skin, grounding.

“Don’t break anything,” he called after me.

“No promises.”

————-

The rink was empty.

Just how I liked it.

Cold air hit my lungs the second I stepped in, sharp and clean, cutting through everything still buzzing under my skin. The lights reflected off the ice.

Perfect.

I didn’t bother with much, just laced up, stepped on, and pushed off.

Roughly I moved through the ice, gripping madly on my hockey stick.

Him.

That picture.

Him sitting there, looking… comfortable.

My jaw clenched.

I picked up speed, cutting hard across the rink, stopping abruptly at the edge, ice spraying out in a harsh scatter. My chest rose and fell, breath visible in the cold air.

“Get it together,” I muttered under my breath.

But none of this normal distracting shit helped calm the rising blood pumping into my head, which was once again blurring my not very rational thinking…..

And I shouldn’t have done it.

This was going to ruin the plan.

And I should have just soaked myself or frozen myself in an ice bath or some random shit.

But I stood in front of the building, staring at the fourth floor window, where the lights were off.

And without thinking much, I entered the building, his door number was 033.

Knowing that he was already asleep, I climbed through the window, and like I had expected, the fucker had his window open.

With precision I landed swiftly inside his room.

The darkness masked everything, but my incredible eyesight mapped everything out.

Small desk and chair, and a small bed, where he was……

I smirked.

“…Let’s see you up close,” I murmured.