Chapter 29: God of Wrath: Chapter 29

What started as a simple trip home so Annika could convince her father to accept Creighton turned into a nightmare.

Not only was she taken from here by force and coerced to relocate to New York indefinitely, but she also broke up with Creighton, and he was left to pay the price.

The past two weeks have been an exhausting mash of events and tragedies that none of us could keep up with.

I think we all wish we could rewind time to that night at the pub, where Creighton was being territorial of Anni, and Remi was giving him shit about it.

We were all laughing and having the time of our lives back then. We were a group, and now, we’re broken up by Anni’s absence.

Ava has been downright depressed since she left, despite clearly cutting her off and taking Creighton’s side.

We all did.

We’ve known him since we were young and we’re well aware of his bloody past prior to when he became a member of the King family.

So whenever the stitches of that wound open, we all feel obligated to take his side no matter what.

With everything that went down, everyone is exhausted both physically and mentally. We’re pushing ourselves to study and try to heal together.

Papa told me that it might be a good idea to go home and recharge for a bit, but I can’t leave everyone here alone. I’d be worried sick and wouldn’t get any rest.

So I stayed and have tried to be there as much as I can for Glyn and Ava, who were hit by Annika’s departure more than they’ve let on.

Sometimes, they call her name in the flat and either pause or curse themselves when they realize she’s not there anymore.

Most of her stuff is still in her room, and none of us have dared to touch it or even open her door.

When I’m missing her, I like to believe she’s in there listening to Tchaikovsky and practicing ballet.

At the shelter, the other volunteers, technicians, and even Dr. Stephanie miss her like crazy.

She was always the fun and cheerful soul who made sure everyone around her was content.

Now that she’s gone, it’s like she left a dark spot behind.

After telling the staff good night, I step out of the shelter, shoulders drooping and heart so heavy that it weighs me down.

I pause at the corner of the street in search of Ilya.

He’s been following me around ever since that day at the cottage, acting like his boss’s pseudo-stalker.

During the first week everything went down, I was so rattled and worried that I barely paid him any attention.

I lacked the capacity to think straight back then.

After that, I asked him to leave me alone, but he flat-out ignored me and continued his mission of shadowing my every move.

I haven’t met up with Jeremy since that night at the club.

The first week, he was as busy as I was, considering Nikolai got hurt and Annika had to leave.

Then he traveled for a few days, probably to New York.

I only saw him a couple of days before Annika left—the encounter was brief and without any actual conversation.

Despite the dull ache that spreads through me at the reminder of him, I needed the space.

I needed to figure out whether or not I’m willing to try to understand him like Ilya told me that morning. If I’m willing to go down the rabbit hole with him and possibly never get out.

While I still haven’t found the answer to that, one thing’s for sure. I’m a bit hurt by the fact that he disappeared on me.

Not that I’ve gone out of my way to contact him. I haven’t called or texted him.

I haven’t known how after that loaded confession he sent me.

I feel that if I do, if I give in, then I’ll have nothing left of me. That he’ll suck me dry and leave me empty.

My chest gets tighter the longer I look for Ilya and find no sign of him. At my insistence, Ilya had started walking me from the shelter to the flat instead of following from afar.

And even though Ilya is more silent than the night, he was welcome company.

Not to mention a reminder of .

But tonight, he’s nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he decided that he was done with me, after all, and ordered his guard to stop following me.

That thought should make me joyful, but instead, I’m dragging my feet on the pavement.

It’s all for the best anyway.

Hopefully.

I start to pull my earbuds out of my backpack when I spot a shadow under a tree. Leaning against a bike.

A sudden flutter dips in my stomach as I watch him.

Black jeans mold against muscular thighs, a T-shirt outlines his sculpted chest that I know is inked full of tattoos, and a jacket strains against his broad shoulders.

Then, finally, I study his face that’s shadowed by the darkness but still looks no different than that of a warlord who’s on a mission to conquer everything in his path.

Starting with me.

His ankles are crossed, and his finger strokes the surface of his helmet, back and forth, in a controlled rhythm.

It’s .

The one who’s been plaguing my nightmares more than that wanker Jonah. In a way, I should be thankful, but screw him.

If he thinks I’ll go running to him with open arms, he must not know what he did wrong.

I cut off eye contact, shove the earbuds in my ears, and turn up the music to the max as I march down the empty street.

A few steps later, I’m wrenched back, and I gasp when I see a car speeding a few meters away.

I pull out the earbuds to be greeted by a shout from the driver.

The strong hand on my elbow spins me around so that I’m face-to-face with my savior, who might as well be my tormentor.

His lashes fall like shutters on his dark eyes as he shakes my arm. “What the fuck did I say about tuning out your outside world? Next time, when you cross the road, you look first. Is that understood?”

I flinch as if each word is a whip embedding itself into my skin.

It’s probably because he’s touching me after such a long time. Or because he’s actually here. In person. After I thought I wouldn’t see him again.

Those facts are definitely messing with my head, because I’m resisting the very illogical urge to wrap my arms around him and hug him.

I rotate my elbow, trying to free it from his grip, but I might as well be caught by metal.

His fingers dig into my flesh, firm, unmoving. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“Screw you,” I let out in a charged tone, surprised at the emotions that choke my voice. “You don’t disappear for two weeks, then start ordering me around. Who the hell do you think you are, Jeremy? My owner? My keeper? A toy on your shelf that you believe you can grab when you’re bored? Because I’m not. I try to be strong, but I get hurt, and I feel pain, of it. So if you’re going to disappear, do it for good. Stop playing with my feelings!”

Thick silence permeates the air, intertwined with thick tension and simmering violence.

I can see it in his eyes. In the darkening gray that blends with the night. Even his body has stiffened, transforming into one block of lethal muscle trained to inflict pain.

That’s precisely what I expect, and I wouldn’t be surprised after my outburst. If we were alone, I have no doubt that he’d bend me over and fuck me.

me.

Make me beg so he can do it all over again.

However, his grip doesn’t tighten around my elbow. In fact, he releases it, hesitantly, as if that’s the exact opposite of what he wants to do.

“You have feelings for me?” he speaks in an unaffected tone, one that’s filled with so much apathy, my spine jerks upright.

It’s like he’s preparing for the blow that will disintegrate me.

He steps forward, towering over me, but he doesn’t touch me. Only his warmth strangles me, and his scent pools at the bottom of my belly.

“Not anymore,” I say with confidence I don’t feel.

“If you don’t, why would you ask me not to play with them? Are you a liar, Cecily?” His chest rises and falls as if in dissatisfaction, in anger.

His muscles grow rigid, and every particle of his body seems to have gained a presence of its own.

He reaches out a hand that appears so large and intimidating. I flinch, but it’s too late.

He’s already wrapped it around my throat, his fingers digging in the flesh with a firmness that doesn’t allow me to breathe, let alone move.

“Responsible Cecily. Selfless, altruistic, sacrificial Cecily.” His voice has dipped, and so have his brows, but there’s a slight snarl in his upper lip. “You care so much about your friends, don’t you? Your family, your little circle of foolish jokes and empty nothingness. You’re the mother, no? The one who ensures everyone is home safe, that no one ends up with a random pregnancy, drinks too much, or is all alone.”

I swallow, but even that is constricted by his grip. I don’t like the tone of his voice or the darkness coating it.

It’s like I’m talking to that masked stranger in the forest that first time.

As if we’re back to square one.

“And yet, you dropped Annika off your list so easily. You know exactly how lonely she is, how ecstatic she was to make friends. I don’t give a fuck if anyone else removes her from their lives as if she were never there, but , you’re a fucking liar, Cecily.”

He releases me with a jerk, and I stumble backward on shaky legs that barely hold me upright.

His words might as well be a knife slashing through my chest and lodging in my bones.

So this is what he’s been mad about. It’s probably why he cut me off completely, too.

I resist the need to massage where he gripped me. “I love Anni, I really do, but I don’t like what she did to Creigh.”

“Are you Creighton?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you are Creighton. You’re not, so why the fuck are you acting on his behalf?”

“You don’t understand. Creigh has always been distant and silent, and we thought she brought him out of his shell, but then—”

“Don’t offer excuses,” he grinds out before he releases a breath. “Just admit that you jumped on the bandwagon, saw what everyone else did, and chose to act the same because you don’t like being left behind.”

“I’m not like that.”

“But you are. Didn’t you refuse to do what you craved because it’s frowned upon by others? Didn’t you cry when I said I’d tell them about your tendencies? You’re nothing but a heartless, coward liar. Did you say I was playing with your feelings? Good. That way, I can crush them.” He brushes past me. “I have no use for someone who’s disloyal.”

Then he leaves.

Without a look back.

As if he didn’t just smash my heart to pieces and leave me to flounder in its blood.