Aiden’s posture and expression remain the same, absolutely unfazed by the threat Papa not-so-subtly poses.
As if that’s not enough, he turns around, letting Papa hold the gun to his forehead. “Go ahead, shoot. This is the only chance you’ll have to get me in a position like this. Use it well.”
Shit.
Shit.
Is he crazy? How can he provoke my father like that when he’s holding a literal gun to his head?
He must know the type of man Papa is. He must’ve heard about it if he’s already aware of his implication in Creighton’s life, so why the hell isn’t he backing off as any sane person would?
Is he that fearless?
Because I have no doubt that Papa would pull the trigger and make good on his promise.
Before he can actually do that, I jump to his side, “Papa, no.”
My father’s face could compete with a statue—cold and unmoving. This is the type of person he turns into when he feels any of us is in danger.
When the great Adrian Volkov personally steps in and chooses to inflict violence.
“This man thinks it’s a good idea to threaten my daughter and I’m here to prove him wrong. Step back, Anoushka.”
“No! He’s in pain because his son is hurt.” I touch his arm, grabbing onto it for dear life. “Papa, please. Take it as if I’m begging you.”
I think he’ll shoot him anyway since he doesn’t take anyone threatening his family lightly.
He takes it seriously, mercilessly, and remorselessly.
But after a beat, he lets his hand with the gun drop to his side. However, instead of tucking away his weapon, he leaves it there, as a form of both intimidation and threat.
Both men stare at each other, or more like glare, in a war of unbound power.
“Talk to my daughter in that manner again and you’ll disappear as if you never existed.”
“Papa!” I shake my head at him. “I’m the one in the wrong, I’m the one who did this.”
“If there’s anyone who started this, it’s me,” he speaks to Aiden. “I killed Creighton’s father because he dared to touch my wife. I slaughtered him like a pig while he wailed and begged. I stabbed that scum and watched as blood poured out of his orifices, then I did it again and again, long after his body turned lifeless. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, with more stabs this time to make his face unrecognizable. I would bring him out of the grave he’s rotting in and display his head on a stick so the world would realize that my wife and my children are off-fucking-limits. I never wished for things to come this far, but I will not, under any fucking circumstances, apologize for protecting my family.”
“Neither will I,” Aiden says calmly, assertively. “I don’t give a fuck who you are and what type of demons you worship. If my son doesn’t wake up, I’ll end you and every last member of your dear family.”
I’m trembling like a leaf, not only at the escalation and subtle threats they’re exchanging but also at the fact that this situation could become so much worse.
Aiden is powerful, yes, but Papa is more violent, and I believe every word he says. My father is prone to become a monster if he feels that we’re in jeopardy. I witnessed that firsthand during my kidnapping attempt.
Judging by his stiffened posture and harsh eyes, he definitely thinks I’m under attack and won’t stop until that threat is out of the way.
And that threat is Aiden.
I’ve already hurt Creighton enough, I can’t be the reason behind his father’s death, too.
Think, Annika. Think.
I need to somehow dissipate this tension, but how?
Closing my eyes, I sway and let myself fall forward. Papa catches me before I hit the ground.
“Annika,” his low voice calls. “Annika?”