Lawless 2 (The Finale)

by Amarie Avant

  “Because I’m a Castle Girl.” Eyes on him, peripheral fixed on Kirill, I step back a few paces. “A Castle Girl and all I deserve is reciprocity for sex.”

  “I offered you myself. All my waking hours since you left have been consumed with finding you. Killing all my fucking byki for not finding you! All I know, all I fucking want, is you!” Simeon stabs the air between us. Those pitch, dark eyes cast toward Kirill. But his blood has become the loyal soldier, still believing in a lovers’ quarrel. “You apparently didn’t want my love.”

  “How about this.” I lift my head to the ceiling. “How about I loved you more than life itself, placed you in a position to be a god to me. Placed you here!” I anchor out my hand, ascending onto my tippy toes as high as possible.

  A disbelieving grin adorns his lips.

  “Loved you so hard. Had your fucking child,” I hiss. “You think I lied about leaving you in the Black Dolphin. Guess what? I don’t care anymore. Before today, I’d swear you had enough fucks to give for the both of us. When you found me in Miami, you mended my heart. I doubted us. You fucking sustained us.”

  A look of profound fury crosses his face. “I did!”

  The gun no longer weighs like power in my hands. Though I’ll hate myself for it, I utter the truth. “Now, you don’t love me anymore.”

  “I still do.”

  “Not so much.” I continue to dig myself a grave, ready to topple into it by pulling the trigger on Simeon.

  “Dah, not so much,” he sighs. “Though, my obsession is at the same level. As I said, you can’t steal someone’s heart and expect—”

  “Expect you to be constant, whereas it appears I’ve wavered all along. I understand. It’s okay, Sim.” I sniffle back tears. “Because today, I’ve decided that if you can live without me, I can live without you.”

  “You have lived without me!” he sneers.

  “Because of your mother!” I seethe. “Because of Sofiya. Not Anatoly. Not anyone else in this fucking universe. Your suka of a mother, Sofiya, did this to us. The result of her actions has made you dead to me!”

  Chapter 31

  Simeon

  “My mother?” I retort, I still believe she’s deceitful. Anastasiya had begun to lower the gun. Now, a renewed vigor is in her gaze as she holds the weapon toward my chest. In disbelief, I repeat, “My mother?”

  “Sofiya dated an Armenian after divorcing the man who claimed to be your father. The weakling who took the Resnov name instead of forcing his wife to take his name.”

  My mother.

  This was true. Sofiya’s relationship with the Armenian was fleeting. Anatoly caught wind of her relationship, and her lover was never to be seen or heard from again. My mouth moves without warrant. “What are you saying?”

  “She tore us apart four years ago, Simeon. I had a child die in my arms because of her. If I didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d kill that bitch right now.”

  I start toward her. A bullet zips past me.

  “I’m leaving, Simeon.”

  A story begins to stitch together in my psyche: my mother, the villain. What would be Sofiya’s motive?

  “Anast—”

  Another shot goes off, this one piercing the ceiling as she holds the gun haphazardly up. “I’m done, done with all you repulsive Resnovs. Killing Sofiya may be the death of me. I’ll worry about that later. But right now, I have one mission—to kill Oleg. Kirill, I’ll leave you his fucking head if you’d like.”

  I glance over at my cousin, who starts to speak. Another shot rings out as Anastasiya struts toward the door. The lace gathers at her ass, descending into a G-string. She’s practically, fucking naked.

  “Who is this Oleg?” I growl at Kirill. I’d seen red when walking in on them. Now, my eyes fly to him for answers.

  Anastasiya stops at the door, spins around, fisting the gun at her hip. “Oleg was the headmaster at the Castle I grew up in. He knows me well.” She sneers, opening the door.

  “What did he do?” I find myself asking. My stride catches up to her as she hustles along the corridor and begins down the wide staircase.

  “Not this!” Asya slips a hand beneath the material at her breast and shoves a crinkled photo of a scarred figure in my face.

  The image steals the air from my lungs.

  “I called her ‘The Invisible Thing.’ But this is what he could have done to me, Simeon. Now, get out of my fucking way. I don’t need you.”

  She hustles to the second level. I follow. The byki in the area lower their head in respect to her lack of clothing.

  Anastasiya stops to glare at me. “To this day, she was the catalyst for my nightmares—until you.”

  I swallow hard, the apology in my eyes. “I’m—”

  “I said, until you! The boy whom I met wasn’t a Resnov, not on the first day. Now, he is a twisted fuck like his father. But apparently, I can’t murder you.” She shrugs, glaring at my guards. “I’ll take the only vengeance I can.”

  Her mentioning my mother was enough to send my body falling into the floor, but I stand my ground. “You accused my mother, Anastasiya. Let’s go to her now.”

  She taps Kirill’s gun against her hip. “You don’t fucking get it, Simeon.”

  “Make me understand,” I grit out.

  Something catches her line of vision behind me. I glance over my shoulder, down the hall on the second floor. Mikhail is exiting a room, eyebrows knit in curiosity. His chest swells at the sight of her. Jealousy wraps around my soul.

  Asya mutters, “Another fucking Resnov.”

  I’ve become them. All Asya ever hated. She starts down the opposite hall, toward our room. I’m a second away from entering when the door slams in my face. Attempting the handle would make me look like even more of an idiot with all my guards staring.

  “I don’t think she murdered my brat,” Kirill mutters. “Um . . . should we speak with Aunt Sofiya?”

  “Why are you questioning me?” I growl, stalking over the handwoven rug.

  His palms go out as a sign of peace.

  My shoulder slumps against the opposite wall. I attempt to digest the last few minutes. This is fucking madness! The byki stand guard, awaiting an order or relief, which they will not be granted.

  After a while, Kirill gestures toward his room. “May I?”

  “What?” I grab a tuft of my hair.

  “May I go? Can we all go to sleep? She might have too?”

  “Nyet. Anastasiya’s preparing,” I mutter. “Previewing my gun selection.” I wriggle my jaw and stand up straight. Time to give orders. “Someone, secure the last known whereabouts of this Oleg person.”

  Kirill’s shoulder slumps against the wall. “Shit, if Anastasiya’s the same kid I remember who tussled with Luka over this or that, she won’t agree to any assistance.”

  My gaze warns that I don’t give a fuck when the door opens. Anastasiya dons a black turtleneck and cargo pants. Tactical gear is splayed over her curves. She’s wielding my favorite semi-automatic.

  “What are you doing, Anastasiya?” I cock my head. The answer is evident.

  “Not killing a messy Resnov, so the next best thing.” Her mouth curves into a smile. A salute is tossed in the air, and she mutters, “Goodbye forever, Young Resnov.”

  I glare down at Anastasiya. All the blood in my veins stall. Her choice of words, “Young Resnov,” came from none other than Irek Chutin.

  He had her.

  Outside, Anastasiya slams the hood of the hunk of crap she drove in. At my request, a byki had cut the wires while she’d been holed up in our room. Her foot repeatedly kicks the side of it. She’s ranting about another car while byki attempt to placate her with any key she’d be interested in. I haven’t said a single word. I’m simmering in the notion of my mother’s treachery, and Chutin’s imminent death.

  “If I want nothing to do with you,” she growls, battering the vehicle with each word, “then I refuse to take anything from you people. Who fucked up my car?”

>   A convoy of SUVs arrives, Kirill is at the wheel of the foremost vehicle. I grip Anastasiya’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not leaving with you people.”

  “You took my weapons and my clothes, moya milaya. And you say you want nothing to do with us?” I lessen my grip, my eyes lowering from hers for a moment. The thought of how I cruelly undid her stitches blazes through my mind.

  “Should the Castle Girl walk around naked?” She stops pulling away from me and presses her body into me. “Oleg may not have fucked me, but Chutin allowed him to see me naked.” Her lips brush featherlight against my earlobe then catch me between her teeth. “He could not take his eyes off me.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Oleg pissed all over my body, Simeon. He came too. Came like a fucking animal for hours! He painted all his spunk across my skin.”

  Blood plunges into my ears. I can hear it, rushing through. She wants my reaction. A broken, deranged Resnov! My arm loops around her waist. I slide her into the backseat of the closest SUV. I catch her gold-plated gaze. Mine softens in shame. “I apologize, moya milaya.”

  “I have more to tell,” Anastasiya purrs. She doesn’t scoot over.

  I climb in with her sitting half on top of me. Her fingers pluck at the button of my shirt.

  “I had the letter. All the evidence pointed to you. If I wasn’t drunk, I was searching for you relentlessly, not a second of sleep.”

  “Nyet,” Anastasiya strums her native language, curving the simplest of words. “Nyet fucking for Oleg. Nyet penetration. His only objective was to break me, Simeon, so that I’d return to Irek. Fall on my knees, grateful for his touch.”

  “I’ll kill—”

  “You will do nothing, Simeon. I will kill Oleg and Irek myself.” Her hand splays, a gentle lover’s caress down my chest. “I was celibate for four years, Sim. Maybe not this time.”

  I crush her tiny hand in mine.

  “Did you abstain from sex, Tsar?”

  The tips of her fingers are pulsing beneath the flesh. I kiss each one of them before muttering, “What? Mikhail told you he saw me—”

  “Did you?”

  “I’ve never been unfaithful, Anastasiya.”

  “Should have.” Embers smolder behind her gaze.

  “I should’ve fucked around?” My laughter resonates in my ears. “My drug of choice is between those thick thighs, girl! Once I’m done—”

  “You should have cheated, Sim.” She chortles. “I cheated.”

  My hand flies to the back of my neck, kneading hard, instead of around her slender throat.

  “Not by choice.” Her voice dips, a slight inflection, a slight tremble. “Irek had me tied up in this lace number, which he cut from my body.”

  I can’t fucking hear this, I tell myself. It’s like she’s sixteen all over again. Her statement became my fuel for Anatoly’s death. But I’d been there. I knew the extent to the pain he inflicted on her. How far did Irek go? I stop contemplating and focus on Anastasiya.

  She needs this.

  “What happened?” I growl.

  “He clawed my legs apart. Oh, but he kissed me passionately.”

  Clenching my jaw, I bite my tongue from declaring how her revenge will be sweet. It will, but now is not the time to tell her so. All the venom radiating from her skin ceases. I stare at her a beat before asking, “Did he have you?”

  “Maybe,” Asya murmurs, glancing out of the window.

  Chapter 32

  Anastasiya

  Everyone I know and love is dead. The boy who frightened and incited me at first sight. My sweet Luka, his Rudolf. The girl Kosta once was, although the good in her fled this earth years ago. Twisting and toying with Simeon becomes my vice for the next hour.

  “You love all the details, Sim. Should I stop or continue?”

  His gaze levels with mine, his tone woven with sincerity. “If it calms you, proceed.”

  I pause a beat. The seeds of my declaration have done more harm to the barbarian than these fists of mine ever could. It’s way past nightfall, but I stop my detailed story to glance out the window. “This isn’t the way. You took a wrong turn.”

  Simeon catches my jaw. “Oleg attempted to flee the country, Anastasiya. He has been found. Rest assured, the mudak’s death has your name on it still.”

  A gleam is in his eyes. He’s offering his services.

  My tone flickers as I wonder how replaceable he is. I don’t want to admit it, but he might be useful. I ask, “How much farther then?”

  Simeon clears his throat.

  From the front seat, a byki responds.

  “Good.” I settle back in my seat. “Much closer than before.” Once Oleg is dead, I’ll force Simeon to part ways with me. I wring my fingers together at the thought of having Irek Chutin all to myself. His death is mine to own. I can almost taste it.

  Thirty minutes later, the SUVs trail along bumpy roads in an area of old tenements. Tall, cement structures extend into the night sky. Windows stack like Legos. Apartments are close enough for neighbors to hear a heated discussion. It’s the sort of place where Simeon saved me from my betting nanny. I start to unbuckle.

  “Nyet.” Simeon’s thick arm blocks my chest.

  “You found him for me is all,” I grit out.

  “He will be brought to you as well.” He’s staring face forward. I have a sudden inclination to pound my fist into the marble of his jaw. Break my knuckles a little in preparation for Oleg. And I do.

  My knuckles are a fraction from his face. My fist is tightened so hard I can hear the bones crunch. “Don’t,” Simeon warns.

  “What will you do?”

  “My men are confirming if Oleg is alone or not. They’ll bring him down, Anastasiya.”

  “I said, what the fuck will you do? If I try you again?”

  He presses my fingers to his lips, kisses them before I can pull my hand away.

  I maneuver around, my hip against the buttery-soft leather as I glare at his side profile. A hundred years ago, when I loved the man and not the monster, I’d seen him as art, the perfection of his structure. As an art history buff, I’d hid a notebook, dabbled and sketched Simeon. My amateur musings were no da Vinci. Too bad. If I could draw Simeon, I’d illustrate the perfect portrait then let fire lick across the canvas, finishing him off.

  “What will you do, Sim?”

  He looks at me, expression morose. “Probably take it.”

  A nerve beneath my eyelid convulses in overdrive. “You can’t take it back. But maybe you could make me feel better, Simeon.”

  Caution tightens his mouth. Careful of my fresh bandage, I climb on top of him, press my lips against his, tasting the bad man, the Young Resnov, whose reputation as maniac and genius, once preceded him. But he was too stupid to look his mother’s way, to believe her guilt for our demise. Our tongues twine, passion sparks instantly.

  Lips against his, I groan. “Irek wanted this to be us. For me to kiss him while he fucked me.”

  Gingerly, Simeon slips me back onto my seat. The door opens. Simeon climbs out and slaps it behind him. I start out of the car, ready to dish out more hurt.

  But the pain shining in Simeon’s eyes distorts into wicked glee. I look up. Duct tape is around Oleg’s entire face; his mouth, his eyes, and his wrists are bound. He stumbles on each movement as four byki start over. One of the men has his hands in fists, prepared to inflict more agony at Oleg’s abdomen.

  “Don’t you dare touch him,” I grit out. “He’s all mine.”

  Oleg’s face lifts. He’s searching the darkness for me. I pluck at the silver tape, unravel it from those ocean blue orbs, and smile.

  “You knew me by voice. Impressive.” I gesture. Oleg is brought to his knees. My hand skims along his face. “Certain things—”

  “How is this torture?” Simeon’s steel voice cuts through the night.

  I shoot him a glare. Simeon shoots Oleg in his calf. In the blink of an eye, his gun is in the back of his waist
band, and he’s signaling for me to continue. My old headmaster falls prostrate, groaning against his confines. Lights blink on in so many windows, giving off enough illumination to compete with the stars at night.

  “Proceed, Anastasiya,” Simeon orders.

  I stare through the window.

  “Residents who saw him taken from his shitty little place understood Resnovs own him now,” Simeon grits. “Unless you’d prefer to take him back home, finish him!”

  “Not my home.”

  “Then proceed.”

  I grip Oleg’s hair, shoving his face into the dirt. “Before I was interrupted, I was saying that there are certain things about you I will always remember. Such as the thought of your semen gliding around in my fucking hair.” I shove his face into the ground again. A few teeth go flying. “It made me want to fucking vomit.”

  Blood splatters over my skin as I smash his face into the cement, over and over again. The sound of Oleg’s breath becomes faint, probably due to his broken nose. I slam his head down again. I’m suddenly in Simeon’s arms.

  His abrasive hand caresses my face, looking me over in concern. I blink. “Your request was torture. Not the relief of a swift death. Should I assist?”

  “No, motherfucker!” It’s as if I’ve recovered consciousness after fainting when I begin to push him away.

  “Asya, your emotions are killing him swiftly.” Simeon’s biceps wrap around me in a bear hug. “You want to bash his brains in, in less than sixty seconds?”

  “No, but I’d bash your face in if I could.” There’s a look I can’t quite read on Simeon’s face as he lets me go. I fold my arms across my chest. “You all can leave us!”

  “What’s your plan?” Simeon’s hands move with passion. Like a professor in the center of an auditorium, all eyes are on him. “How will he die, Anastasiya? Make it fucking count!”