𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

(sarcastic) TW: toxic desi parents

Without further adieu here is the new chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

After drying my hands with the towel in the bathroom, I start to open the door to get back to my seat on the jet, presuming Sasha hasn't laid down all over it.A large hand intercepts me, pushing me back into the bathroom. I grip the edge of the sink behind me as I come face to face with the Russian who towers over me.

"Woah, woah, woah," I whisper-yell, pushing Grisha back. "What are you doing?"

I don't understand what this is, I don't trust myself to be alone with him. And I keep ruining it every time.

"Don't look so scared," he muses. "If you thought anything other than me coming in here to talk, you're mistaken. You can fucking beg when you can't hold out any longer, Devi."

I gape at him. "W-what?"

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about anyways," he brushes off what he said like what he said was a light thing. His tone becomes more serious. "Why are they targeting you?"

My face slackens. "How am I supposed to know?"

"I woke to the sound of a gun clicking in my direction only to find it was you holding it. Why on fucking earth out of everyone here would they choose you?"

Should I be offended by the way he said you?

"Because they are random and impractical, I don't know, they're yours to deal with," I exasperate. He gives me a dry look before staring off into silence.

The air is thick with an uncomfortable tension between us. I wonder if he can feel it. I can't tell him even if I am on the verge. The verge of falling. The verge of bursting. The verge of tipping. The truth would ruin it all. He's hell bent on getting retribution, and even more so for the person responsible for killing his father.

He's literally crazy for me.

"I should kill you," he says and my body slowly freezes, becoming cold and unearthly still. "They have an infatuation with you, one such that could only suggest," his glacial eyes meet mine, "you have a connection you don't know about or..."

I hear it in my head before he says it. I hear the alarm bells going off in his head every time he looks at me.

He takes a step closer, our bodies becoming far too close for comfort. I look away, I look down, my eyes scouring for a way out. This proximity, this danger, this conversation, is slowly activating my fight or flight system.

"Or what?" I whisper, cluelessly. But I'm not really clueless am I? "Why would you have to kill me? Am I a liability?"

He ignores my questions, oh so thoughtfully. "Or there's something you're not telling me." I suck in a breath, feeling his fingers below my chin, lifting my gaze to his. "Have you got anything to tell me?"

I killed your father.

The question leaves a sour taste in my mouth and settles a foreboding feeling in the pit of my stomach. My entire breakfast could be regurgitated right now.

His eyes flash, with a need for an answer. In between the flecks of grey urgency in his eyes, I see the need for me to not answer yes to his worst fear.

I open my mouth, and smoothly speak. "No, why would you think that?"

His tongue pokes through the side of his cheek, staring at me so intensely. I match his stare, not as a challenge but as a trust me please one.