Page 39 of The Darkness is Calling

“You’re leaving because of her?”

My body tenses, but I know denial will not work with him. In fact, it would not work with either of them, because I cannot lie to my brothers.

I don’t want to.

“I saw you at dinner last night, and even yesterday. The way you carved that man up. You had another episode, didn’t you? And instead of doing something to her, you chose to pour your demons into someone else.”

I turn to face him but I say nothing.

“How bad is it?”

Again, I don’t answer, but I arch an eyebrow, letting the implication hang between us.

I feel him growing restless and worried at the same time.

“Then why the fuck did you make her sleep in your bed? What if you had woken up during the night and strangled her just because you couldn’t control yourself?”

“I didn’t,” I say quietly. “In fact, I slept far too long, as you can see, without touching her with a finger.”

“You didn’t touch her at all?”

I don’t know if he wants a simple confirmation or if he genuinely cannot believe me.

I shake my head.

“Not at all.”

“I don’t like this,” he says curtly, and I frown.

“If I do something to her, it’s bad. If I don’t touch her, that’s bad too. Fuck it. I don’t understand you anymore.”

“It’s bad because you’ve been unpredictable since she arrived in this house. And it’s only been one day.”

“That is exactly why I am trying to prove to myself that I can resist. I don’t want to lock myself in a cell just to keep my distance from her. I want to get used to her presence and learn to manage the impulse.”

“And what does the impulse say?”

I clench my teeth.

“Everything.”

His body tenses.

“I’m calling Father and telling him she isn’t safe in this house. And that you aren’t alright with her nearby either.”

I take a step towards him.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Yar,” I say in a hard, threatening tone. “If I am not capable of handling one woman, then how could I be a Pakhan capable of ruling an entire city?”

“This isn’t about Bratva, Artem. This is about our father, who knows very well what effect those voices, or whatever the fuck they are, have on you,” he hisses, growing angrier. “Just like we do. Except he is the only one who can remove her from your path before you do something you will regret even more.”

“You don’t understand, Yar,” I say, my voice heavy with pain.

But it is pleasant pain, like the memory that makes me speak.

“From the moment I walked into the bedroom and saw her in my bed, even the voices went quiet. As if they did not want to wake her, even though I knew she was awake.”

His eyes lock on mine, and after a few moments, he runs his hands nervously through his sweat-damp hair.