The Darkness Within

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

For thirty minutes, I'm silent as Sergei barks orders into his phone, coordinates with Igor, and attends to his duties as the boss of bosses.

It's only as the car pulls up to a private airstrip do I recall Leo, and let out a small noise of distress.

Sergei's head whips around to me. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

"Leo's still at the temple—I can't leave without him," I respond vehemently.

Igor stifles a laugh from the drivers seat, and Sergei stares at me, nonplussed. "You just killed a man without batting an eye, but the thought of separating from your pet gets you riled up?"

I stare back at Sergei. "Leo hasn't pointed guns at me. He's worth the wasted breath. The German prick wasn't."

Sergei's lips twitch with suppressed amusement. "We need to rearrange your priorities. But don't worry, Leo's already on his way."

He opens his door, steps out of the car, and then opens mine before I have the chance to. I notice a few splatters of blood on his white button-up, but don't comment. Instead, I follow him as he leads me to the gleaming black jet in the middle of the air strip, ushering me up the steps and into it.

As with everything else in Sergei's life, the interior of the jet is lavish. There are three compartments outside of the cockpit; a bedroom, the cabin that Sergei and I used last time, and a separate cabin for soldiers to reside in.

The cabin Sergei ushers me into is dominated in beige and cream tones, with seats facing each other scattered about. Igor disappears into the cabin set aside for bodyguards as Sergei and I seat ourselves. A few minutes later six more of Sergei's men follow Igor, one of them holding a pet carrier with Leo, which he sets down on the seat next to me. The plane's jets shortly fire up as the airstairs are closed.

I feel Sergei's eyes on me, and look up to meet his gaze, which is burning with the force of entire galaxies. I catch lust, respect, and a mild surprise in his eyes. I get the sense that he got turned on by my display of ruthlessness in the car, as evidenced by the way his gaze roams my body, before focusing on my lips.

"You killed him," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "You didn't hesitate—instead you assessed circumstances, and made a split-second decision that saved your life."

I incline my head. "Like I said in the car; I learned to observe and evolve when I was a child. How else do you think I've managed to blend with the masses for the last two decades?"

Sergei shakes his head slowly. "You've never handled a gun before, yet you managed to fire off three perfect shots."

I grimace slightly. "I don't think "perfect shots" is quite right. The first two landed in his chest by luck. From there, it was simple to deduce what changes I needed to make to fix my form."

"There's no such thing as luck in the mafia," Sergei interjects. "There's only skill—born from the ability to evolve with circumstances."

I glance out of the window, watching as the plane taxis down the runway before taking off. As the plane climbs in altitude and the ground below us shrinks, I allow myself to truly think through what just happened.

I've known for a long time that I'm good at accepting circumstances, and changing my behavior accordingly. I also know that the sort of calm I displayed is abnormal, even for someone with my IQ and abilities.

When I knew it was my life or the German's, I didn't pause for a moment to consider the weight of what taking a life would mean—even though it was in self-defense. Quite frankly, it almost felt natural to kill him. As if his death was a forgone conclusion. As if murder is nothing to me.