Chapter 28: Corrupted Heart: Chapter 28

I’m already angry when I arrive at the front door. After I’m kept waiting there for fifteen minutes by Drazen’s men, I’m fucking pissed by the time he finally deigns to greet me in his enormous penthouse.

The Serbian meets me in the foyer in one of his customary dark gray suits. He shakes my hand firmly. But when he sees the icy look on my face, his brow quirks up.

“Is this a friendly visit?” he growls in his deep baritone. “Or should I break out the dueling pistols. Because you look⁠—”

“You’re fucking playing us.”

Drazen meditates on that for a second, stroking his chin before he turns.

“Why don’t you come have a drink.”

“This won’t take long,” I snap. “We can do it right here.”

“Suit yourself,” Drazen tosses over his shoulder. “I’m getting a drink.”

Glaring daggers at his back, I follow him into his spacious, double height living room with its views of all of New York spread out ninety stories beneath us.

Drazen steps to the bar cart by the fireplace.

“You’re sure you don’t⁠—”

“I don’t need you to impress me, or glad-hand me, or placate me with expensive whiskey,” I hiss. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Drazen nods, turning to pour himself a drink. “I’ve got shit whiskey, too, if that would make you more comfortable.”

I seethe silently. “What would make me more comfortable is hearing from your own lips why you thought it was remotely okay to fuck with my family.”

He turns back to eye me as he takes a sip.

“You mean my investment in your building.”

“No, I mean you using us as pawns to fuck with your enemy.”

He exhales. “Kratos, all I’m doing is helping your family buy a building. That’s⁠—”

“Bullshit,” I snap. “You’re having a pissing contest with Boris Chernoff.”

Drazen’s face darkens, his eyes flashing as they pierce into me.

“A pissing contest?” he chuckles quietly. His lips curl savagely in the corners. “No, Kratos. A pissing contest is bidding on the car your rival wants at auction, winning, and then demolishing that car just to be an asshole. A pissing contest is fucking that rival’s woman. What I engage in, Kratos,” he says coldly, his voice venomous, “isn’t a pissing contest. It’s guerrilla fucking warfare. And you haven’t a single goddamn idea of my history with these people, or what goes on in my heart.”

I bristle but stand my ground as he walks toward me and jabs a finger in my chest. “So back the fuck off.”

“And if I don’t?” I snarl.

He eyes me coolly. “Then maybe Ares and the rest of your family would be interested in hearing about your clandestine chats with CIA Agent Amaya Mircari. Who, as I’m sure you know by now, isn’t working for the CIA anymore.”

When I stiffen, he cocks his head, arching a cold brow.

“Don’t mistake me for a blind man, Kratos. It could be fatal.”

“Stay the fuck out of my and my family’s lives, Drazen,” I growl back.

“Gladly, if you rearrange your lives so as not to cross my goals.”

My eyes lock with his. A second ticks by. Then, without another word, I turn and march out of the living room toward the door of his sprawling penthouse.

“Kratos?”

I stop at the door, turning my head partway around to catch his eye.

“You may be big, but I’m very close to your size. If you ever come into my home and threaten me again, I’ll cut your fucking head off.”

“Asshole!”

I let the final word of Ares’ tirade sink in through the phone before I exhale.

“I should have checked in with you first.”

“Oh, you fucking think?!” he hurls back. “Drazen is a fucking ally, dipshit!”

I scowl as I get out of the G-wagon, phone to my ear. “Maybe he’s not an enemy, but do you still want to call him an ally after everything I’ve just told you?”

“What I want to do after everything you’ve just told me is have a fucking conversation!” he roars back. “All of us! Together! Not barge into his fucking home, guns blazing!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose tiredly as I walk around the corner to my brownstone. It’s almost dinnertime, and after this shit-show of a day, all I want is to sit down with Bianca and eat.

Well, that’s not entirely true. After this shitty a day, what I want is to abduct her from our home, drag her blindfolded and tied up to the old church, and then chase her through the dark before I fuck her until she can’t walk for a week.

…Actually, that’s what I might do when I get home in about seven seconds.

“Ares, I’m almost home. Let me call you back after⁠—”

“Oh, fuck off,” he snaps angrily. “I’ll call you back, jackass.”

He hangs up sharply.

Shit.

This will take some repairing. But I stand by what I did. Yeah, maybe Drazen’s influence and money get that development built and our pockets lined. But I fucking loathe being someone else’s pawn.

The front door to the brownstone swings shut behind me. I exhale the tension of the day, and slowly, a smile spreads over my face.

This place hasn’t been my house for long. It also never felt like home until recently.

Until Bianca became a part of it.

My mind replays the feel of her sliding into my lap earlier as I turn to glance up the stairs.

“I’m home!” I call out. “Is it too cliche if I do Greek for din⁠—”

My words stutter to a stop when my eyes land on the suitcase and backpack sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

“Bianca?”

My brows knit as I go to walk up the stairs.

“Bianca—”

“Is it true?”

My head whips around at the sound of her voice. Bianca’s sitting in a chair in the living room, so still and quiet that I never even noticed her when I walked in. I frown as I move toward her.

“What’s with the suitcases⁠—”

“Is. It. True.”

Her voice is haggard and cold; soft, like it’s being whispered from a mile away. She stands from her chair, her mouth a line and her hands clenched stiffly at her sides.

I shake my head as I move toward her. “I’m not sure⁠—”

She flinches, backing away and keeping the coffee table between us.

“Were you trying to spy on my family?”

A single tear leaks down her cheeks, her eyes haunted and dark as she stares at me haggardly. I go still, my blood turning to ice.

Fuck. Amaya.

My jaw grinds. “Whatever that woman told you⁠—”

“Don’t lie to me, Kratos.”

She’s not screaming or throwing things. She’s so quiet. Somehow, that makes it even worse.

“Bianca, listen to me,” I growl. “I love you⁠—”

“Please don’t fucking say that right now,” she says coldly, almost mechanically.

“That bitch,” I snarl, “is full of shit.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Yes!”

“Why.”

“Because I’m your fucking husband!”

Her throat bobs as tears fill her eyes. Then she turns away, wiping at them with the back of her hand.

“Did she ask you to spy on my family in exchange for avoiding going to jail on gun charges?”

I remain silent.

“Answer the fucking question,” she hisses, her voice quiet and cold.

“She asked me to, yes,” I rumble darkly.

Bianca physically flinches, like I’ve struck her.

“But I didn’t ever do it⁠—”

“You also didn’t ever tell me she asked you,” Bianca spits. She’s still not looking at me. Still looking away, her body rigid and her voice strained.

Silence chokes the room.

“Why is there a suitcase in the front hallway,” I growl.

Bianca’s throat bobs. “You know why.”

Something vicious twists inside of me.

“Babygirl—”

“No,” she chokes, her voice tight. “Don’t call me that.”

“Bianca—”

“This is done, Kratos.”

The words hit me like so many bullets to the chest as she finally turns to look straight at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her expression stony.

“We’re done.”

No. “Excuse me?”

“As in over,” she spits venomously. “Finished. I’m done with these ridiculous games we keep playing, and I’m done with you.”

There’s nothing behind her eyes. No anger, no pain. Just…blank emptiness.

“What the fuck is this,” I whisper quietly.

A single tear trickling down her cheek is the only emotion she lets out.

“This is me growing a spine, Kratos. This is me taking control of my life.” She stares right at me. “We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It feels like I’ve been punched in the throat. Or shot. I just stand there, stunned, as she storms past me to the front entryway. Suddenly, I snap.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

It’s like a reflex. She flees, or tries to run, and I give chase. It’s part of my nature I can’t change. I whirl and grab her arm, tighter than I intended, a raw impulse not to let her go.

Bianca shivers, her eyes dropping to my hand gripping her forearm. She swallows, and the walls around her waver for a second. But then she sucks in air and the defenses go back up. Her eyes burn into me as she thrusts her chin up at me.

“Or what?” she says coldly. “You’ll hurt me?”

The feeling of my heart breaking when she says it almost brings me to my knees.

“You know I wouldn’t ever hurt you,” I choke quietly. “Not like that.”

Her arm yanks from my grip.

“Kratos,” she whispers. “Apparently, I don’t know who you are, what you’re capable of, or the first thing about you.”

She starts to back toward the front door.

“Bianca—”

“Stay right there,” she chokes, her voice breaking a little but her face still stoic and cold, her emotions walled off.

“Baby—”

“I said stay there.”

My brow furrows as I advance on her, my heart shattering as it races.

“I’m not letting you just walk out of here.”

Her chest rises and falls slowly as her hands clench at her sides and her eyes fall shut.

When she opens them again and speaks, it’s like ice hitting me in the face.

“Vanish.”

My whole world shifts on its axis.

“No,” I blurt, shaking my head as the room spins. “No, you⁠—”

“Vanish.”

“You don’t get to use that fucking word! I love you!” I choke.

She flinches, like I’ve just struck her. Another tear trickles down her cheek.

“If you really love me,” she says coldly, “you’ll listen to me, and let me walk out that door.”

Her eyes lock with mine. All the pain in the universe shatters behind them. Without another word, she turns and she walks out.

And my world crumbles.