The Darkness Within

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Six

Sergei

Before tonight, the only times I've felt helpless in my life were when I was a boy, receiving extreme pain as punishment for minor indiscretions from my father. I was entirely helpless, unable to protect myself, unable to do anything but accept the whippings.

I despised it. I despised him. With every lash of the braided bullwhip, I vowed to see him dead—vowed to put an end to his tyranny, and to my helplessness, which ultimately stemmed from the weakness and vulnerability of my age.

I was only ten when I first began planning to overthrow my father. One of the sessions, as he liked to call my bouts of torture, had gone too far. Of course, the piece of shit who gave me half my DNA was never there—I was left to the mercy of his right-hand, who also happened to be Igor's father.

Igor, who had lived on my family's estate along with his father, had snuck into my room, hoping to distract me from the pain, only to find I was knocking on death's door with a fever of 105. My father sent the family doctor to me, but not before lecturing me about being a runt. My mother stayed by my side for days on end after begging my father to let her see me. She'd only leave when forced to, normally to satiate my father's desires. In those moments, Igor would come, and we'd forge plans to kill our father's and take their places.

It took eight years, but eventually, those plans came to fruition. As soon as I put a bullet in my father's head, I swore to myself I'd never feel helpless or out of control again. There were two keys to ensuring that; first, amassing power and resources that made me untouchable, and second, never valuing more than I could afford to lose. For over a decade, I've ensured I never felt helpless. I put myself in a position where I was the one making others—namely my enemies—feel helpless.

I considered every variable before making any business move or decision. I ran through scenarios in my mind until no outcome could surprise me, I taught myself to think ten steps ahead. I ensured nobody ever got close enough that losing them would affect me the way the loss of my mother did.

The one variable I never accounted for, never could've foreseen, is Kira. Women were interchangeable, replaceable, and I was perfectly content with that. A bit bored, perhaps, but content nonetheless. I never could've fathomed that I'd grow an interest in monogamy. I certainly never expected to develop an obsession with a woman—especially an obsession that would only grow by the day, and eventually morph into love. I thought that emotion died inside me along with my mother; Kira proved me wrong.

Being loved by someone like me is beyond dangerous. My love isn't traditional, sweet, or kind—it's dark, obsessive, and absolute. Lesser men would buckle under the weight, but Kira bears it just fine, and she isn't even aware she has it. Probably because she assumes I lack the emotional depth to love—something I would've agreed with several months ago.

At present, the woman I love is in the hands of my enemies. It's been mere hours since I watched her abduction and slaughtering a small army of men hasn't dulled the worst of my rage; it's only accelerated it, because I still don't know where she is, or why she was taken.

Despite Igor's encouragements for us to leave my estate and get somewhere safe after the car sped off with her, I refused. We hid briefly in the forest surrounding my home while waiting for backup—the moment it came, a massacre ensued. Every single cockroach that had attacked my territory met a fantastically bloody end. Only fair, considering they not only turned my favorite house to rubble, but abducted my woman. We only left two men alive; one of them the most trusted soldier of Damien, the other Mikhail Rostov's right hand.

If Damien and Mikhail weren't so driven by pride and ego, they'd never send valuable assets into hostile territory, especially my territory. They'd only use foot-soldiers, disposable men in such missions, but they made stupid errors merely because they wanted trusted firsthand accounts of what exactly happened. They wanted to hear from those they could rely on that I was dead, and Kira was taken.