I fucking will.
Chapter 25
Octavia
Whatever people might think, the days that follow that kiss in class make one thing clear. When it comes to Markev, I am a coward.
I’m not afraid of him, but I’m afraid of what he does to me.
I hate his guts, or at least I think I do.
And if that sounds uncertain, it’s because it is. You probably don’t get it.
Frankly, neither do I.
I don’t like the fact that I let him kiss me.
Twice.
I don’t like the way my body responds to his touch.
I have never wanted anyone to touch me, let alone kiss me, so why does it have to be him, my sworn enemy, who stirs all of this in me?
There is no space left on my body for cuts, at least not in places no one would see.
And I cannot begin to explain how deeply I loathe myself for the way I react to him. For allowing the kiss. For kissing him back, at one point.
Even now, walking toward the dining hall, the void presses in, and the voices refuse to quiet, no matter how hard I try.
Tainted.
Tainted.
Tainted.
I’ve had a nightmare every night since that last kiss, and to put it plainly, I’ve stopped sleeping.
So last night, I painted until dawn, then went for a run, longer than anyone reasonably should, hours without stopping.
I have no idea what my face looks like this morning.
I didn’t dare look in a mirror, not when I knew it would only send me spiralling further into the void.
To be safe, I layered on extra concealer when I did my makeup.
Once I enter the dining hall, I take my seat at our usual table. My sister is already there, with Piper beside her and Adelaide sitting with Isaak across from us.
I pause, and actually look at Isaak Markev, searching for the resemblance everyone insists is there.
There isn’t much of it.
Yes, both Markev cousins are tall and broad, but the similarities end there.
Even their eyes are different. The shape of their faces, the way they carry themselves, none of it reads as shared blood to me.
Their fathers are brothers, yet whatever resemblance exists between the men seems to have skipped the sons entirely.
Isaak’s father is the elder, the Pakhan of the Markev Bratva. The younger brother holds just as much influence, only without the title. Either way, power runs thick in that family.
