Page 110 of Deviant Need

The entire space is empty now, completely abandoned. Some bodies lay scattered around the room, blood pooling beneath them in dark circles, but otherwise it’s clear. Gunshots echo across the entire building from somewhere below us, followed by more screaming.

“I think there are hostages downstairs,” I say, my throat tight.

“There’s an entrance over there.” He nods toward the far wall, his breathing labored. “The door is locked to the public, but we can go there because there’s another exit.”

We move across the floor as quickly as we can, weaving between overturned tables, bodies, and broken glass. Mikhail pulls a black card from his pocket, and more blood drips from his wound onto the floor. My nostrils flare at the sight of it. The door beeps and unlocks, swinging open to reveal an empty hallway lit only by emergency lights.

My hands stay firmly on his arm and I push him faster, trying to get us out of here before anyone finds us, or before anyone realizes what he did.

“I didn’t know, Teo! I just told you everything I know,” Yulian’s voice echoes across the hallway, and we stop, looking at each other.

“I told you not to call me that,” someone mutters back, flat.

“Make me,” Yulian says. There’s a pause. “We need to get you out of here before someone shoots at you again and I have to carry your dramatic ass out of here.”

“Can you be serious for once?” the voice says, before sighing heavily.

“I’m always serious,” Yulian insists.

“You don’t even know what that word means. We need to keep this from getting out if what you say is true.”

“Trust me, it’s true, and no one knows. Come on, let’s go before someone sees you,” Yulian says.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Then move faster.”

“I am moving. Stop trying to grab me.”

There’s a scuffle of movement, fabric rustling, a grunt.

“Yulian, I swear to god, if you don’t stop, I’m going to murder you.”

“You’ve been threatening to kill me for years, and yet here I am, alive and well. I think you like having me around.”

We follow the sound, and when I glance to the left, Yulian is talking with someone I don’t recognize at first. His black hair is medium length, curling just past his ears, and his hazel eyes lock directly onto Yulian with a pissed-off expression, his hands are wrapped around Yulian’s elbow, gripping tight. He’s wearing a white shirt under a black bulletproof vest, tactical gear strapped across his chest.

The skin down his neck looks warped and melted, shiny in places where it healed over in thick patches. His hands are covered in similar scarring, the kind that can only come from fire. Those are definitely burn wounds. Severe ones from the look of it.

He suddenly looks over at us, and his gun snaps up, aimed directly at my head. Yulian goes pale, all the color draining from his face, and he opens his mouth and closes it, unable to form words.

I’ve seen him before in photographs our father kept. That’s Mateo Nozares. The oldest son of Santiago Nozares, our biggest enemy.

Mateo walks toward me, and Mikhail yanks my hand, trying to shove me behind him. Mateo shakes his head and aims the gun at him.

Mikhail raises his arms and backs away, too weak from the stab wounds to do anything else. Blood still seeps through his shirt. Yulian stares at us, frozen, mouth open but no words coming out. Why isn’t he doing anything?

Mateo brings his gun up under my chin, and the barrel is cold against my skin. He forces my head back so I have to look at him. He tilts his head, eyes locked on mine, just staring. The seconds drag, and his expression stays unreadable, calculating, like he’s studying every detail of my face. Then something shifts.

His eyes narrow slightly, and this look crosses his face, something between curiosity and recognition. “So it’s true.” He frowns, brows drawing together. He keeps studying my face, that weird look still there, unsettling and intense. Then he releases me and steps back, laughing. The sound comes out wrong, unhinged, borderline manic.

He drags both hands down his face. “Fuck.” His gaze cuts to Yulian, and he lifts his hands over his head, gun dangling from his fingers, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t believe this.”

“Leave while you still can,” Yulian says from behind him.

“What a mess,” Mateo grits out.

Confusion crashes through me like a wave.