Page 92 of Oblivion
“Stop this,” he whispered. “Please.”
“You started it,” I answered. “Now you get to see the real me.”
“Let me go,” Nova gurgled beneath my body, the blade slipping deeper into her lip, blood pooling around. “Please.”
Crimson colored her chin, dripping down. Her hands were plastered on the ground, as if she could brace herself against me.
“Sure thing, darling.” I pulled the knife away, leaving behind the split lip right in the middle, bloodied and destroyed. “I’m afraid she won’t be able to suck your dick for quite some time.” I looked at Storm, shrugging. “But she has her hands.”
I pulled myself back, sitting on her and looking over all of them.
“Well, she’s going to have one hand.”
Nova kept left hand on her lip, tears streaming down, mixing with blood, but her right hand stayed on the ground.
My palm burned against the handle of the knife, fire licking my skin, my soul, pushing me forward. Without thinking, without warning, I lifted the knife and slammed it down, the blade going straight through her hand. Muscles tore, fragile bones and ligaments screaming as the silver blade went all the way through, straight into the ground.
“What the fuuuuuuck?” she screamed, trying to move but her hand was pinned down to the ground, stopping her from getting away from me.
“Ophelia!” Storm roared when I wrapped my hand around her throat, pressing harder than necessary. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her air supply cut off.
I bent down over her, my lips right next to her ear.
“Next time, it will be your throat I’ll be cutting through, darling.”
Storm slid next to us, pulling out the knife from her hand, while I stood up, creating some distance between the two of us.
“Are you insane?” he asked, pulling her closer to him.
A part of me knew it sucked seeing him with her, caring for her, holding her, but the viciousness took over and I didn’t have it in me to care anymore.
“I am.” I nodded. “But you knew that already, Stormy.”
“Storm,” Nova whimpered and cried, her lip bleeding, her hand immovable as Storm cradled her head to his chest. “It hurts.”
“What have you done, Ophelia?” he asked, disbelief clear in his eyes. “This isn’t—”
“What you wanted? Who I am?” I asked and kneeled, looking at the two of them. “You should know, Stormy, that this is exactly who I am. It isn’t my fault that you forgot what I could do.”
I stood up and stepped away, turning toward the barbeque.
“And about The Syndicate, Stormy.” I looked down at him. “The Syndicate belongs to my father. My real father, Storm, who actually wanted to stop the war.”
Shock murmurs around me, and the thousand questions on Storm’s face fueled the fire burning through my veins.
“Nikolai wasn’t The Syndicate. He wasn’t even my real father, but congratulations, Stormy. You’ve just made an enemy out of a man who wanted to see me happy and to create an alliance with you. I hope you all are ready.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his front suddenly pressing against my back. I had no idea when he stood up.
His hand wrapped around my throat, turning me around to him.
“What are you talking about, Ophelia?” he bit out, the vein on his temple throbbing. “Your father?”
“Lazar Asterov is my real father.” I grinned. “Lazar Asterov who killed an Albanian leader because he was after me. Lazar Asterov who is after Logan Nightingale and the people involved in all sorts of monstrosities against kids. Lazar Asterov who told me to stop running and to embrace what the two of us had.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”
“That Lazar Asterov will be coming for your head, darling. You made an enemy out of a very powerful man, Storm. You have no idea what you’ve done.”
