Page 43 of Alluring Darkness
“The next time I touch her, you will put a bullet in my brain,” Anton presses out with what sounds like great effort.
“Good. Now apologize.”
“Sorry.”
“Better.”
“I apologize for touching something that belongs to you.”
A mocking laugh rips from Eli’s throat. “Good boy.”
Heat pools at my core, but it’s overshadowed by the sheer amount of anger burning through me.
Every time I try to talk to someone and get information about who set Connor up, Eli shows up and ruins it. I need to figure out who really tampered with the rifle, but I can’t do that if Eli keeps acting like a possessive caveman all the time.
“I don’t belong to you, you fucking asshole,” I growl at him. “I can talk to whoever the hell I want and—”
“One more word out of your mouth, and last night will be child’s play in comparison to what I’ll do to you.” Eli cuts me a commanding stare before taking the gun from Anton’s head and using it to motion between us instead. “If you go anywhere near him again, he’ll be bleeding out on the ground. You want that on your conscience?”
I glare back at him while clenching and unclenching my jaw. Then I force out, “No.”
“No,” he repeats, and then jerks his chin. “Then leave while I still have some patience left.”
After a very short staring contest, I’m forced to accept that I have lost this round. With an irritated snarl, I spin around and stalk towards the edge of the field.
I hand in my gun, but then swipe another one on my way out. That one has a silencer on it. I don’t know how to use one of those, or if it even affects the way the gun works apart from muffling the noise, but it was the only one within reach. But it doesn’t matter. It should work for what I have in mind anyway.
With revenge burning inside me, I stalk away from the field and towards the chemistry lab.
18
ELI
On instinct, I jerk my body to the side. A second later, a fist slams into the wall right where my head was supposed to be. I whip around to find Mikhail Petrov drawing his hand back for another strike. Yanking my arm up, I slam my fist into his side before he can finish swinging.
A huff rips from his throat, and he dances back a step.
I flick a quick glance up and down the concrete corridor. It’s suspiciously empty. Almost as if he had it cleared beforehand.
“You put a gun to my little brother’s head,” Mikhail snarls, his blue eyes flashing with fury.
I shoot him a nonchalant look. “So?”
“No one threatens my family.”
Before I can reply, he yanks out a knife and lunges at me. I dodge the swipe and throw a fist down on his forearm, pushing it downwards before I slam my other fist into his jaw.
Pain pulses across his face, but he recovers quickly and jabs at me with the blade again.
My mind churns with possible strategies. I don’t have a weapon, which means that I need to disarm him first.
Grunts echo between the empty gray walls as I land a series of punches to Mikhail’s side. He manages to get in a shallow cut on my forearm. I grit my teeth as a flicker of pain sears through my skin.
He’s good. I’ll give him that.
Unfortunately for him, I’m better.
At last, I manage to land a precise blow to his elbow that makes a jolt shoot through his arm. The knife flies from his grip when his muscles spasm. I follow it up with a kick to the side of his knee.