God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(127)

Her eyes widen, the blue and gray clashing for dominance. Despite her constant nagging about her hair and clothes, Annika loves when we dance in the rain. It brings out memories of our first date and kiss. Of the time I decided she’d become mine for good.

Her chin trembles and so does her voice. “But you don’t dance.”

“I do with you.”

“I don’t like the rain.”

“You do for me.” This time when I nod at my extended hand, she takes it.

I tug her so forcibly that she lands against my chest and her small palms fall on my shoulders. My hand grabs onto her waist and we sway slowly to the sound of the rain.

We’re pressed against one another so closely that I want to stop time right at this moment. Lately, whenever we’re this close, she pushes back or tries to put as much distance between us as possible.

But right now, she stares up at me with expectant eyes, eyes so full of light, I want to kick myself and throw my body into a ditch for ever tainting her with my darkness.

These eyes are only meant for light.

We continue swaying slowly, gently, and she doesn’t stop staring at me. Whenever the rain gets in her eyes, she blinks it away to watch me closely, as if wanting to peel open my exterior and peek inside me.

“Does this mean you’ll forget about the past?” she murmurs hopefully, expectantly.

And I hate to crush that hope, or decimate it, but that’s exactly what I have to do to give her a new beginning.

One where I’m not tarnishing her life.

I was always meant to break Annika Volkov. I just didn’t know I’d be the one broken instead.

“I can’t erase my past.”

Her feet come to a halt as everything shakes—her chin, her body, her lips. “What about your present and future?”

“I’ve already lost those.”

“That’s not—”

Her words are cut off when a commotion erupts on other end of the beach.

I frown.

No one is supposed to be here. This island is owned by Grandpa Jonathan and only he and Dad use it whenever they need a holiday. But they wouldn’t come over, considering they both know I’m here.

Unless they decided to come uninvited. Maybe Mum and Nan pressured them into bringing them here to see me?

No.

Something is wrong about this.

“Stay here,” I tell Annika and start to take the road down.

When I turn around to make sure she didn’t go back to the rocky shore, I find her hot on my heels.

“What?” she asks. “I want to know what’s going on.”

It’s useless to try to stop her and we don’t have time anyway. The rain has stopped as abruptly as it started by the time we reach the beach.

Several men in black patrol the whole area like some special agent soldiers.

I don’t hear footsteps, but I hear Annika’s shriek as I’m hit from behind.

Pain explodes in the back of my neck and I fall to my knees. My wrists are wrung behind my back as a Russian-accented voice mutters, “Got him, Boss.”

When I lift my head, I find none other than the man who murdered my childhood and bathed in its blood.

The man who gave Annika life.

Adrian Volkov.

And he’s holding a gun to my temple.





39





ANNIKA





It’s strange how the world can flip upside down in a matter of minutes.

A few moments ago, I started hoping again, pining, dreaming of convincing Creighton to give up on his vendetta.

And that was after two days of nightmarish, bleak surrender. Due to his complete inflexibility, my heart broke to pieces. I lost all hope and became a shell of my former self.

The thought of him turning into this heartless person who only sees vengeance has been ripping me apart and I couldn’t withstand the torture. So imagine my surprise when he finally listened.

He stood there and heard me out.

He didn’t attempt to antagonize me. He was even…scared. It was the first time I’ve seen that fear in his eyes.

Hell, even when I pointed a gun at him, he wasn’t afraid. He was more like resigned.

He said he’d let me go home.

He embraced me in his safe arms and danced with me under the rain.

We were going somewhere and now we aren’t.

Now, he’s being held down by Kolya’s massive hand as he stands like a wall behind him and Papa points a gun at his forehead.

And the worst part is, he looks ready to kill him, and not just in a normal way, no. This is the second time I’ve witnessed Papa’s detached murderous face. The first was during my attempted kidnapping. His face is set, lips thinned, and his eyes are so dark, they’re unable to reflect the light.

I’ve always known Papa killed people, but this is the first time I’ve seen him as a killer.

A cold-blooded, ruthless killer.

His men circle us with methodical stratagem, all tall, dressed in black, and with assault rifles slung over their chests. It’s like they’re out to snuff out a rival organization, not a simple college student.

I search every face, but there’s no sign of Yan or Boris—the only two who might get on my side. They were probably left behind to protect Mom.

“You have the audacity to kidnap my daughter?” Papa’s calm words reverberate in the gloomy air, but the amount of rage that bubbles beneath the surface leaves me panting.