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)
And I want to…what?
What the fuck do you think you can do when you’re broken yourself?
Killian notices us, or more like spots Glyn and stops dancing. Mia and Nikolai do, too. My friend smiles at me. Nikolai scowls.
My nape burns and my skin starts to feel black, inky, and foreign.
It’s been a week since I last saw him, and while I didn’t expect a welcoming ceremony, I also didn’t think he’d look this displeased.
Glyn hugs Mia and hands her a bag. “It’s small gifts from the three of us. Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to,” she signs, then grins at me and types on her phone before she shows me. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“You personally invited me. I wouldn’t miss it.” I smile, fighting the need to ogle her brother.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nikolai shoves Mia behind him and gets in my face, his voice harsh, face closed off. If it weren’t for his familiar smell, though now mixed with cigarettes and alcohol, I’d think I was looking at a stranger.
Is this how he felt every time I pretended not to see him in public? Because it’s no different than having a fucking knife lodged between my ribs.
“Another elaborate plan from your brother? What is it this time? Arson? Assault? Murder, maybe?” The coldness behind his words leaves me speechless.
Nikolai never speaks to me in that tone. He never snaps at me.
And the fact that he’s done it twice now makes the grim possibility of losing him a terrifying reality.
But you know what? Fuck him.
Why the hell is he angry when he ghosted me for a whole week?
“Bran is my friend. I invited him to my birthday,” his sister signs, her movements smooth and determined.
“It’s okay, Mia,” I tell her and keep glaring at him. “I couldn’t care less about your brother’s opinion of me, but it’s probably better that I leave.”
She shakes her head frantically.
“Mia is right,” Jeremy says somewhere behind me. “You’re our guest.”
Killian clutches Nikolai’s shoulder. “If you can accept Glyn and Cecily, you’ll have to accept Bran, too. He has nothing to do with Lan, despite the creepy physical resemblance.”
“He’s right.” Glyn looks at me with an encouraging smile. “Bran is completely different from Lan. I promise.”
Jesus. She sounds like she’s selling me for some position.
Nikolai’s eyes never leave my face, and I can’t help staring back. While I don’t really like the anger, I like that he can’t look away from me.
It’s the least he can do after disappearing on me as if I’m nothing.
Mia jumps in front of him and signs, “Please don’t ruin my birthday.”
Nikolai flashes me one last glare before he releases a throaty sound and snatches his pack of cigarettes from the table.
My frown deepens. Things aren’t good if he’s smoking. He told me he’s a mood smoker and only resorts to them when the chaos in his head is too massive to contain.
I really need to get him alone, talk to him, and make sure everything is okay.
Just when I’m thinking about the best way to do that, the last person I need waltzes right in the middle of the scene like he owns the place.
Lan scans his surroundings and then flashes us a diabolical smirk. “What’s with the tense atmosphere? I thought this was a birthday. Also, did someone mention the word ‘ruin’?”
28
NIKOLAI
For the first time in fucking ever, I don’t have myself under control.
And that’s saying something since everyone always thinks I have a loose screw and can’t be labeled sane by any stretch of the imagination.
It’s different this time.
I knew it was disastrously different when I didn’t want to talk to my dad. If I did, even he would be insisting on the pills.
A part of me is insisting on the fucking pills.
I hate the fact that I’m even thinking about that possibility. But there’s no other way to kill this state of chaos. I haven’t been sleeping, eating, fucking breathing, and have been surviving on violence, cigarettes, and alcohol.
The alternative to the pills is being stuck in the middle of a black rage for the foreseeable future.
Rage that can’t be doused by any fighting, riding, or any extended fucking sight of blood. If anything, it’s been mounting, intensifying until it’s the only form of oxygen I suck into my lungs day in and day out.
The only time I can breathe properly is when I stare at Bran’s texts and stalk his social media like a stage-five creep. I hate that I can’t hug him to sleep or kiss him. I hate that I can’t look at him and cling to him like an annoying octopus. After he poured his heart out to me in the tub, the last thing I wanted was to leave him, but I had to.
I still have to.