Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
He picks up after a few rings and speaks in a British accent. “Talk to me, son.”
I pace faster, my feet slapping against the tiles. “It’s coming back, Dad. It’s fucking me up in the head and I want it gone.”
“You’re okay. Breathe.” His voice is calm and firm, but I can sense his affection beneath the control.
My father is a high-ranking member of the New York Bratva, the best hitman anyone has had the misfortune to know, and the number one man in my paternal grandfather’s family.
But most importantly, he’s my number one supporter. I love my mom, but she’s a fan of science, of doctors in white coats who love to slap people with labels. She’s also an advocate of the fucking pills. Not my dad. He, like me, believes that I can control it. And I did.
For fucking years.
Doesn’t feel like I’m in control now, though. Fucking far from it.
I’m teetering on the edge of destruction. It pulses beneath my skin and roars in my veins.
“I’m going to snap, Dad. I can feel the pressure gathering and intensifying behind my eyes. Someone will touch or look at me the wrong way and I’ll fucking explode. How do I stop it?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t, Niko. Just fall into it, absorb the shock, and release some steam. You know how to do that the best, no?”
“It’s not fucking working.” I slam my fist against the locker and the sound bangs in the eerie silence like a bomb. “Jeremy gave me the setting I needed this morning and it still didn’t fucking work.”
“What…changed?”
My movements come to a halt as I trace the necklace my dad gave me when I started to need a crutch. Something to touch when I feel my mind spinning, screaming, and turning against me.
“What do you mean?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“Did something happen recently that triggered this? Perhaps a stressful situation? An outcome you don’t approve of, maybe?”
Fuck.
I stroke my fingers over the bullet on my necklace, fast, uncoordinated.
“What is that something, son?” Dad asks cautiously.
“Someone. Maybe.”
“Who is it?”
“Not important,” I lie through my teeth, my movements turning jerkier and more out of control.
“In that case, get rid of them.”
The very foundation of my fucking sanity, or whatever remains of it, revolts against that idea.
“Nikolai. You need to promise me that you’ll get rid of whoever drove you to this state,” Dad says more firmly. “The key to keeping you in control is not to provoke you. If this person is doing that, they need to be gone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, Dad. I promise.”
“Good.” He releases a breath. “I love you, son, and I’m glad you could confide in me.”
“Love you, too, Dad.” I hang up with a scowl.
He’s right. I should get rid of the provocation. Technically, Bran means nothing. So what if I want to fuck him? I wanted to fuck a lot of people before him and I’m sure I’ll go back to my old ways soon if I give myself time.
The only difference is that I’ve never wanted to make someone mine as much as I want to chain him the fuck up to me.
But I can remove him from my life.
I have to remove him, because Dad is right. He’s provoking me. I was supposed to get under his skin, but he’s the one spreading beneath mine like poison. It won’t be long before he reaches my heart and slams it to a halt.
His constant rejection and running away is messing with my head in ways I don’t approve of.
I’ve always kept things physical, but that’s far from being the case with Bran. I’m spending more time with him than I have with anyone, and I actually like it.
No. I love it.
I can’t imagine my days without seeing his face first thing in the morning and that little smile he hides so soon after spotting me.
He rejects me, and I keep going back for more like a junkie who needs a hit of the drug that’s sucking my life dry.
But this can’t go on anymore.
Throwing my phone on the bench, I storm out of the locker room and jog to the ring, where Kill is waiting.
The crowd roars to life as I jump in from between the ropes, wearing nothing but my black shorts, my necklace, and a few bandages.
“Welcome, princess.” Kill flashes me a vicious grin, running a bandaged hand over his naked chest and the band of his red shorts.
“You might want to fuck off, Kill,” I say over the pressure gathering in my head. “I could actually hurt you.”
“Show me what you got, Niko.”
I crack my neck, thankful for having a crazy motherfucker for a cousin. Like Jeremy, he knows how much I need this and will fight me whenever I’m in this fucked-up state of mind.