Brax feels like protection.
It's everything I'm not used to but suddenly don't want to end.
16
Brax
Three Weeks Later
In two days, I'm supposed to stand in front of the Underworld and declare my love and devotion for Valentina in some fucked-up cleansing ritual. No matter how many times I ask her or Sean what's involved, they won't tell me, claiming they can't. So a million different twisted things have popped into my mind about what it entails.
Everything I can think of makes me more determined to take down the Underworld and everyone but those closest to me. I don't know all the details about how Sean and Zara got into this mess, but I've seen enough of how the secret cult works. And I'm fully aware of how Fiona had to marry Kirill to save the twins from being orphaned.
Nothing the Underworld does is good. Its entire proclamation rests on bringing crime families together to stop the wars, but from my experience, it's just a bunch of con artists plotting to take the others down.
All I see is destruction. They branded Valentina's chest to make her feel eternal shame. Sean had to promise his sister to Kirill to save Zara from death, and even Kirill didn't want that for Fiona. Then Fiona and Kirill almost got beheaded.
There are other things I've witnessed through all their twisted rituals. I often feel sorry for the poor bastard who's going through it, but that isn't my problem. Most people want to join the cesspool. I'm sure Sean only got in because his father created it, which is another thing I don't understand.
What the fuck was his father thinking?
Regardless, the only people my loyalty lies with are those whom I've known before I ever heard of the Underworld. But for now, the only option is to move forward with this charade and make sure I don't get killed.
Hence why I'm standing outside Valentina's apartment door with an elevated heartbeat and a plan burning a hole in my pocket.
It's now or never.
I wipe my forehead and pound three times on the door.
She opens it, her hazel eyes wide with an unusual unease, hair tumbling down her shoulders in a dark cascade, and an oversized tan sweatshirt swallowing her body.
The sight of her punches something deep in my chest. My palms turn sweaty.
She steps back, arms folding, voice tight. "Brax. What are you doing here?"
"There's something I need to do."
Her shoulders tense. "Are you bailing on me?"
I grunt and brush past her into the living room.
She shuts the door with a soft click that carries more tension than it should.
The lamps cast a warm glow over her neatly arranged furniture.Everything sits precisely where it belongs, the opposite of the storm swirling under her skin.
She demands, "Answer my question."
I chuckle. "You need to calm down, Minx. What's got your panties in a twist tonight?"
She furrows her eyebrows, then looks away.
My stomach curls. I step closer and move her chin so she can't ignore me. "What's going on, Valentina?"
She asks, "Why are you so calm?"
I tease, "I'm always calm."
"No, you aren't."
