Lev: a Shot Callers novel(38)

My blood boiled.

This man thought he had the right to touch my mouse?

No one had the right to touch my mouse.

I found her, and I was keeping her.

The thought stunned me. I didn’t know it until this very moment, until I thought she was in real danger.

I wanted Mina.

I wanted her more than anything, but she was so fragile right now. I would wait until the time was right.

She would be mine.

I would show her that life with me could be good. I would make her see past the damaged part of me to the little good I had inside. I couldn’t give her romance, or offer her marriage. I couldn’t give her more than I had to give. But I would provide for her, give her whatever she needed. She would laugh and smile like the mother she loved, and she would be happy with me. I vowed it right there and then.

The three of us alone with Jeremiah, I flexed my hands, cracking my knuckles.

Vik pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Have fun, you two.”

He motioned to Sasha and, reluctantly, he followed behind Viktor, leaving Jeremiah’s fate in my hands.

Jeremiah looked up at me from his place against the wall, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” I responded as I slipped the brass knuckle-dusters over the fingers of my right hand. “When I’m done with you, you will be.”

It took a solid hour to relieve myself of the fury. With every yelp and groan pulled from the disgusting excuse of a man, my rage ebbed.

As my calm was unearthed, Jeremiah found fear.

And with every punch, kick, and head-butt, Jeremiah discovered what sorry felt like.





Chapter Seventeen

Lev



I drove home without feeling my hands. Overexertion did that sometimes. I was numb, and as I pulled up to my house, I looked out from my car window, unsure of whether or not I wanted to enter my own home.

I was anxious. I didn’t like that.

Licking my dry lips, I stepped out of my car and made my way up to the front door. I opened it, listening out for any signs of life.

I heard nothing.

My heart skipped a beat.

The lights were turned off. The only room that had illumination was the kitchen. I headed straight for it, and found Nas sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in her hands. She sat there, eyes closed, a frown etched on her pretty face, obviously not hearing my entrance. I cleared my throat.

Her eyes snapped open and she spun around.

She smiled sadly. “How did it go? Is he still alive?”

I sighed, flexing my sore fingers. “Alive enough to feel my hands on him for a long time to come.”

Her brows rose. “You stopped?” She huffed out a breath. “I didn’t think you’d be able to.”

“I almost didn’t,” I confessed quietly.

Her brow furrowed. “Why did you?”

“Mina.”

My sisters brow softened, a warm look taking over. “She’s something, huh?”

“She’s a disaster,” I told her. “Trouble follows her everywhere. She corners me when I don’t wish to speak. She smiles and laughs at things that aren’t funny. She steals food right out of my hand.” I shook my head. “All of which makes her perfect.” Nastasia looked as if she wanted to cry. I cleared my throat and asked, “Is Pox still here?”

She blinked rapidly, swallowing hard. “Uh, no. He says it looks like Jeremiah didn’t use much of whatever he gave her, probably because she was so drunk. He said she’d sleep through the night and maybe some of tomorrow. You’ll need to wake up every hour and check on her.” She lowered her eyes. “Make sure she’s breathing.”

“What?” I didn’t think it would be that serious.

Nas shrugged and cleared her throat, her voice cracking. “Pox wasn’t sure if Jeremiah gave her what he said he did. Without knowing exactly what he gave her, it’s hard to tell what the side effects could be. Because she’s so tiny, you know? We’re lucky that all she’s got are hickeys.” Her face crumbled and she dipped her chin to hide her tears. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, and her shoulders shook. “I should’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

It had been years since I saw my sister cry, and it hurt to watch as much today as it had back then.

I made my way over to her, grabbed her by the upper arm, and pulled her out of her chair. She didn’t need coaxing. She fell into me, pushing her head into my chest and sobbing quietly. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and used the other to stroke her hair. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head.

I kissed her head. “She’ll be okay. She’s survived for so long without us. Mina is strong.”

Nas nodded in agreement then lifted her tear-streaked face and muttered, “I just feel responsible.”

“No,” I uttered, and squeezed her to reiterate my point. “You didn’t do this. This was not your fault.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Don’t lie to me, Lev.”

“I don’t lie,” I vowed.

She nodded and responded quietly, “I know.” We separated and she picked up her bag. “She’s sleeping on the sofa in the living room.” When I raised a brow, she gave me a look of boldness. “Hey, I’m strong and all, but not strong enough to lug her up those stairs without breaking both our necks.”