Emperor of Mayhem

19

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Alexei Takharnov was Mr Varkov's right hand man, at least, to anyone who cared why he existed. He was significantly loyal, though sometimes I couldn't help but feel he was overdoing his job. And to me, those who acted like they could be trusted were always the ones that betrayed the most.

Nevertheless, the young man was what a good soldier should be, perhaps. Always positioning himself right beside Mr Varkov before being asked to. If Mr Varkov simply just glared at a spot, cleared his throat or let out a discreet cough, Alexei would immediately know the meaning behind it and take the supposed necessary actions. Sometimes I found it comical to watch.

Recalling this, it wasn't so surprising when struggling to understand whether Mr Varkov just died or simply passed out due to extreme blood loss, Alexei breezed in with a different car, and before I knew it, staccatos of footsteps were echoing as two men exited the black car, one appearing to be a doctor.

And by the time they successfully peeled Mr Varkov off me, my white uniform was already an eyesore, the entire front smeared with Mr Varkov's blood.

I stood there trying to drink the scene in and I couldn't seem to understand what was happening. No one spoke a word to me or asked if I was okay, but then again I had to understand that their Capo de putti putti or whatever Mr Varkov called himself, was at the verge of death, and in a situation such as this, his life was more important than mine.

"Hey, you okay?" Alexei did ask when he came back to meet me after successfully putting Mr Varkov in the car with the doctor. His blue eyes raked over my small frame but they couldn't even be a little warm. It was almost as though he was asking for the sake of it, not because he cared.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine," I nodded softly, still quite confused and dazed because let's face it, the mighty Mr Varkov showed up to pick me up from school hours late, drenched in blood only to pass out on me. It was hard to take in, a puzzle my brain found complicated to solve. To be honest, I wasn't okay. But who cares about some girl when Mr Varkov's life was at stake?

"Is..." I started and paused, looking over at the car, but I couldn't see anything because the doors were already closed and the windows were tinted, "Is he gonna be okay, though?"

"He better be, else you are so fucking dead." He threatened darkly, a distasteful and condescending gaze directed at me, "You are responsible for anything that happens to him."

"Huh?" I was dumbfounded, "What did I do? I was here waiting for him. He showed up this way."

What was wrong with this dude?

"Can you drive?" He rudely ignored me, his passive eyes were scary as they peered at me, jaws in a harder line than Mr Varkov's ever could.

"I don't have my driver's license." I shrugged, my head still reeling over his comment. What did I do? I didn't do anything to Mr Varkov.

The pensive man released a harsh breath, "That's not the answer to my question. Can you drive is what I asked, not do you have a license?"

"Yes," I nodded, rolling my eyes at his sheer rudeness, "I guess I can dri-"

"-Take the car I came in, follow the map and get home." He cut me off, flinging a car key at me, which I couldn't catch due to my weak reflex so it ended up smacking my chest before rolling to my feet. It hurt when it hit my chest. But I was going to ignore it.