King of Envy: Chapter 53

Smoke inhalation. A sprained shoulder. Bruises and cuts all over. Oh, and someone’s death on my hands plus trauma for life unless—or even if—I got a really good therapist.

But I was alive.

We were alive. The people who mattered, anyway. Emmanuelle, Wentworth, and the rest of their co-conspirators could rot in hell for all I cared.

In the grand scheme of things, it could’ve been worse.

Still, my nerves were shot as I approached Vuk’s room. Sean and Jeremiah conferred quietly outside.

“Ayana.” Jeremiah saw me first. Worry filled his eyes. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“If I stay in bed any longer, I’ll fuse with the mattress,” I said with a weak smile. It’d been three days since my rescue, and all I’d done in between doctor’s visits was eat, sleep, and watch bad reality TV. I’d spoken to Vuk twice, but there was so much chaos after my kidnapping and Emmanuelle’s death that we hadn’t had time for a proper conversation. “Is he awake?”

“Yes. You’ll be happy to hear he’s been terrorizing everyone,” Sean said. “Almost bit the doctor’s head off when he said he couldn’t see you this morning. The only reason the man’s still alive is because he said you were sleeping and that Vuk shouldn’t disturb your rest.”

I laughed. “I am glad to hear that. At least he’s back to form.”

I left Sean and Jeremiah to their conversation and entered Vuk’s room. He was sitting up in bed, his face set in a frown while a nurse checked his vitals. She excused herself when she saw me and sped out.

“I heard you’ve been terrorizing your doctors again,” I teased, taking a seat by his bedside.

“Not terrorizing. Supervising—which I wouldn’t have to do if they did their job properly. It’s been days. There’s no reason to keep me cooped up in here like I’m dying,” Vuk grumbled, but his frown softened when I gently touched his leg. A nonstick bandage protected the gunshot wound on his thigh; smaller bandages covered various cuts and bruises across his body.

The doctors had assured me the gunshot wound would heal and that, with the proper rest and rehab, Vuk would walk properly again in a few months to a year. He was lucky; the bullet had made a clean exit and missed his major arteries.

Still, the sight of him bruised and injured made my eyes burn.

I would never forget his involuntary flinch when the bullet tore through his thigh, or the terror that’d smothered me when Emmanuelle aimed her gun at him the second time.

I couldn’t even remember my thought process in that moment. I only remembered freeing myself while Shadow distracted Wentworth and Vuk tried to subdue Emmanuelle—I’d quietly worked on my knots the whole time they were talking, and it’d paid off.

I remembered grabbing Wentworth’s gun before he could retrieve it.

And I remembered lifting it and shooting Emmanuelle right between the eyes.

If I hadn’t, she would’ve killed Vuk. That’d been my only thought, so I hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t even really aimed. I just…did it.

I killed someone.

My hand trembled. I moved to pull away, but Vuk’s hand covered mine a moment later, trapping it between his leg and his solid, comforting touch.

“It’s a surface wound. Don’t worry, srce. I’ve endured worse,” he said. Only Vuk would call a bullet to the leg a “surface wound.” “Now I have another scar to add to my collection.”

I didn’t laugh. “That’s not funny. You could’ve died. You could’ve…I would’ve…” My throat closed. The burn in my eyes intensified, and a tiny trickle scorched my cheek. “I can’t believe you agreed to that stupid plan by that Roland guy⁠—”

“Roman.” Vuk’s mouth twitched.

“Whatever. It was a terrible plan, and he could’ve gotten you killed, and then what would I have done?” The tears were flowing fast and free now.

He’d explained the plan when I came to see him the morning after our escape. Apparently, Roland—I mean, Roman—was a Brotherhood member who’d been secretly helping him this whole time. He’d saved Sean from getting killed when he slipped away during the Vuk and Emmanuelle confrontation. Apparently, Sean had been overpowered by the other Brothers until Roman went back to check on him and get more backup. Roman had also carried Vuk to safety after I insisted they go ahead.

None of that meant his plan wasn’t stupid.

“It wasn’t the best plan, but it worked out in the end. I’m okay,” Vuk said tenderly. He curled his fingers around mine. “I’m more worried about you.”

I swiped at my tears. “I’m fine. The doctor said my shoulder will heal in a few weeks.”

Vuk’s team took us straight to his house after we escaped. He had a private medical wing set up to treat his members’ injuries as well as two private doctors on call. Apparently, they never went to the hospital for “work-related” injuries—too much paperwork and too much hassle.

Vuk’s doctors were the best of the best, and I trusted them.

“I’m not talking about your injuries, srce,” Vuk said. He examined me, his brow furrowing. “If you want to speak to someone about what happened, I know a therapist. Mira. She helped me after my brother died, although I never saw her regularly. She’s good.”

I managed a smile. “If you say she’s good, she must be fantastic.” He didn’t dole out compliments easily. “I might take you up on that after everything settles.” I let out a sniffling laugh. “She’s going to be so sick of me in a few months.”

I had a lot to talk about in therapy.

I didn’t regret killing Emmanuelle. It was her or Vuk, and even if she weren’t evil, I would choose him. Every time.

When he told me about Roman’s plan, he also revealed the truth about her side activities and what she’d coerced some of the agency’s girls to do. I was still reeling from the revelation.

Her involvement with the Brotherhood was shocking enough, but the fact that Emmanuelle Beaumont—the polished former supermodel and industry legend—had run what was basically a high-end prostitution ring boggled my mind.

Vuk’s team had anonymously leaked that information the night after the fire, along with the news about her and Wentworth’s deaths. The cover-up story was that Emmanuelle and Wentworth were lovers, and they were killed by a vengeful ex-client of hers that she’d tried to blackmail.

He’d sent the proof of her wrongdoings to all the major outlets, and it sparked an absolute media firestorm. The FBI had already taken over Beaumont’s offices and frozen its accounts while it investigated. Emmanuelle’s old lawsuit against me was dead and buried. No one even remembered it.

My parents had freaked out when they heard, and they freaked out even more when I told them I’d sprained my shoulder in a gym accident. My mother wanted to come up and take care of me until I was fully healed, but I’d quickly shot her down. That would be too close for comfort.

There was no way I could tell my parents the truth about my kidnapping or what I did. They would lock me up and never let me out of their sight again—if they didn’t keel over from shock first. They said Emmanuelle’s death was karma, not knowing their daughter was the one who’d delivered it.

Maybe it was karma, but Emmanuelle had still been a person. A living, breathing person whose life I snuffed out with one pull of the trigger.

The thud of her body hitting the ground echoed in my ears. When I closed my eyes, I saw the hole in her forehead and the surprise on her face.

Her blood would forever stain my hands, but it was a worthwhile tradeoff for me, Vuk, and all the girls she’d terrorized.

“I’ll give you Mira’s contact information,” Vuk said. “It’s there whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Have you heard from Roman?”

“Not since yesterday. He’s busy consolidating what’s left of the Brotherhood now that Shepherd and Emmanuelle are both dead, but he’s their new leader now, just like he wanted.” Vuk’s tone was dry. “He swore a blood oath that the Brothers wouldn’t come after me anymore. An oath taken by the leader applies to all the members. New rules.”

My heart beat faster. “Does that mean you’re free? You don’t have to worry about them anymore?”

He nodded.

A sweet headiness filled my veins to bursting. No more Brotherhood. No more hitmen and kidnappings and murder—maybe.

The specter of our last conversation pulled me back to earth as quickly as I’d floated off it. I couldn’t believe that’d been less than a week ago. A lifetime had passed since then, but some issues remained unresolved.

I still hadn’t answered Vuk’s implicit question: could I be with someone who’d proved he was capable of murder, torture, and other crimes? No matter how much I yearned to be with him, was the chasm between our moralities too wide for us to bridge in the long term?

But that was the thing. I wasn’t sure the chasm was as wide as I’d originally thought. I’d witnessed him shoot Wentworth point blank without hesitation, yet I’d done the same to Emmanuelle. Part of me had even wished I’d killed Wentworth myself, but I was glad I hadn’t. Taking one life was enough; taking two would’ve been too much for me to cope with, no matter how justified I was.

Seeing him crawl away like the pathetic coward he was in his last moments on earth had been satisfaction enough. A small death for a small man. It was what he deserved.

Vuk had a greater capacity for death than I did, but we were driven by the same desire: to protect the people we loved.

“Do you remember our conversation at the range? Before, um, everything that happened?” I asked. Vuk’s expression clouded. His throat bobbed, and he responded with a short nod. “Well, I made a decision. That is, I, um, have an answer.”

This wasn’t my most eloquent moment, but I’d never had to say these things to someone before.

Vuk’s hand tensed over mine, but he didn’t pull away, and neither did I.

“There was a moment in the warehouse—several moments—when I thought, this is it. We’re going to die, and I’d never get the chance to say what I wanted to say. To tell you how much you meant to me.” I swallowed. “I knew that you had a different concept of justice than most people, but when I saw those photos, I couldn’t reconcile the different sides of you. There’s the you who walked around D.C. with me and took me to bingo night and indulged my family even when they were being totally nosy and annoying,” I said with a teary laugh. “Then there’s the you I saw in the warehouse. The one who could kill and maim without remorse.”

The room was silent save for my voice and the rhythm of Vuk’s breaths. He didn’t speak. He simply watched me, his eyes dark with unidentifiable emotion.

“My knee-jerk instinct was to run away because how could I be with someone who had that much blood on their hands? But then I realized I was thinking in terms of my old life, the one that existed before I knew about the Brotherhood and Emmanuelle’s atrocities and everything else that came to light,” I said. “I was sheltered, and I had a predetermined view of right and wrong based on the life I’d lived up to that point. But the world is bigger and darker than that, and we can’t always play by the rules when the other side has none. The wedding attack opened my eyes, but the warehouse was the tipping point. Sometimes, we have to break our own rules to survive. I mean, look at me. I shot Emmanuelle.”

This time, my laugh contained a hint of hysteria. More than that, though, it held empathy. I saw exactly where Vuk was coming from.

“What I’m trying to say is, I understand the reasoning behind your actions,” I said. “I don’t think violence is the answer to every problem. Most of the time, it’s not. But I understand that it’s sometimes necessary. You did what you had to do for the people you care about, and I would’ve done the same. I don’t regret shooting Emmanuelle because it saved your life. And if someone had hurt my family—if they’d taken my niece or nephew and hurt them—I can’t say that I wouldn’t have wanted them to suffer for what they did.”

I took a deep breath. Vuk still hadn’t said a word, so I rambled on, rushing to get my next words out before I lost my nerve. “When I thought you were going to die, everything else stopped mattering—the Brotherhood, the photos, your utter lack of appreciation for my shoe collection.” A breath of amusement escaped him, and I allowed myself to smile before I continued. “All that mattered was you because I want to be with you.” He continued to stare at me. No reply. “That’s, um, my answer,” I said in case I hadn’t been clear. “To your question from Valhalla the day I got kidnapped? Well, you didn’t actually ask a question, but I understood what you meant. And as long as you don’t go around, like, stabbing people who give you a parking ticket, I⁠—”

Vuk finally moved. He grabbed me and crushed the rest of my ramble with a kiss, his mouth hot and urgent. I melted. My hands slid over his shoulders as I returned his kiss with equal fervor, letting the taste and feel of him sweep me away until I was breathless.

He was alive. It finally, truly sank in. He was alive, and we could be together, no holds barred. No engagement, no secrets, no Brotherhood hanging over our heads.

If Vuk hadn’t been holding me, I would’ve floated straight off the ground.

“So, no stabbing parking attendants,” he said when we broke for air minutes or possibly hours later. I heard the smile in his voice. “Any other conditions I should know about before we make this official?”

“Um.” Just kiss me again. Immediately. But he was right. We should lay out our ground rules first. “Basically everything that falls under the same category. No gratuitous violence unless it’s extremely justified. As in, Emmanuelle-and- Wentworth-level justified.”

“But non-gratuitous violence is okay?” Vuk laughed when I gave him a disapproving look. “I’m joking, srce. I know what you mean.” He gave me another, softer kiss. “A compromise then. No gratuitous violence without proper justification.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I threaten someone if they disrespect you?”

I thought about it. “Yes.”

“Good.” His breath whispered over my skin. “Nisam sklon kompromisima, srce, ali za tebe bih pristao i na hiljadu njih.”

I waited for a translation that never came. “You’re going to make me look that up too, aren’t you?”

Vuk flashed a cocky grin. “If you give me a kiss, I’ll tell you what I said after.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

I leaned forward and brushed my lips across his. My mouth lingered, savoring the moment before I pulled away.

“Okay, Markovic, pay up,” I said. “What did you say?”

“I’m not usually a compromise person, srce, but for you, I’d agree to a thousand compromises if you asked.”

Was it possible for a person to dissolve from a single sentence? Because I was certain that was what was happening. There was no other explanation for my weakening limbs or the spill of honeyed liquid oozing through my veins.

“And yet, you won’t translate srce,” I breathed, trying to restore some semblance of control to my emotions.

“You know what it means,” Vuk said, his voice tender again.

I did. I’d finally looked it up, but even if I hadn’t, I heard the sentiment every time he uttered it.

Srce moje. My heart.

I kissed him again, even more urgently this time. His palm slid over my hip and up the curve of my waist. My skin flushed, and electricity crackled up my spine.

“Wait. You’re still hurt,” I protested half-heartedly. “The doctor said⁠—”

“Fuck what the doctor said.” Vuk nuzzled my neck. “I pay him, so my orders supersede his.”

“I don’t think that’s…” He kissed a particularly sensitive part of my throat. I moaned, my protests fading.

I slid my hands over his shoulders, eager to⁠—

A loud meow interrupted our makeout session. I startled, and we parted just in time for Shadow to jump onto the bed and plop himself right on Vuk’s chest.

Despite Shadow’s exceedingly poor timing, I couldn’t help but giggle at the scowl on Vuk’s face.

“Get out,” he ordered. “We’re busy.”

Shadow ignored him and stretched with a lazy yawn. He nudged Vuk’s chin with his nose before he made himself comfortable again on his owner’s chest.

After his life-saving turn in the warehouse, he’d returned to a flurry of cuddles and doting from everyone on Vuk’s staff. Fortunately, he hadn’t been injured when Wentworth threw him, and he seemed to have taken his newfound hero status in stride. Shadow entered every room like he owned it—just like someone else I knew.

“You are the biggest pain in my ass,” Vuk grumbled. He scratched Shadow behind the ears. The cat purred, his tail swishing back and forth like the world’s most content windshield wiper. “But I was right. You are a survivor.”

“Did you ever figure out how he followed you to the warehouse?” I asked. I pet Shadow with a smile. His purring intensified. God, he was too cute.

I assumed he’d stowed away in Vuk’s car again, but I had no idea how he’d gotten from the car to the site of the warehouse action without anyone noticing him.

“No. He goes where and when he pleases. I don’t even know how he got into this room since the door is closed.” Vuk shook his head. “Cockblocked by a cat. Unbelievable.”

“Oh, let him have his moment. We’ll have plenty of alone time later now that we’re official and all,” I teased. My tone softened. “Plus, you saved my life. Again.”

I’d been unconscious during the last part of the night, but knowing Vuk had run in to find me despite his past trauma with fire…

A fist squeezed my heart.

“No, srce,” Vuk said. “You saved mine.”

“Roland—Roman—was the one who carried you out.”

“I’m not talking about the warehouse.”

My breath fluttered in my lungs. His voice was warm, meaningful, and if I hadn’t melted before, I was definitely a puddle of goo now.

I didn’t need to ask him what he meant. Like so much of our relationship, some things were felt rather heard.

Shadow meowed again as Vuk and I exchanged knowing, secretive smiles. We didn’t have to say anything else, and despite my injuries and trauma, I’d never felt happier than in that moment.

Like my mother said, joy didn’t require the absence of grief, and happiness wasn’t always found in the big moments. More often than not, they existed in small pockets of time like these—in a room with an adorable cat, the man I loved, and the knowledge that he loved me back.