32 | Ghosts

Alexei | Grace

"I HAVE A RAT TO DEAL WITH." And I was going to enjoy the process of destroying every last shred of evidence that he had ever existed. I was going to wipe him off the face of the earth. I was going to cause him unimaginable pain. Even thinking about the moment we found him in the safe house made my blood boil...

Sergei and I made it to the safe house quickly after leaving the Docks – but not quickly enough. Grace had already been taken, the sight of smeared blood on the stair well making my heart clench at the thought of them having hurt her. To make matters worse, evidence of her forced kidnapping littered the hallway; a broken vase was shattered across the floor which had also developed scratch marks from a small wooden table being dragged across it.

The anger I felt towards both myself and Grace's kidnappers was unimaginable.

Guns out, we rapidly searched the house only to find something neither of us had ever expected – someone we hadn't suspected. I hadn't suspected. I had failed.

Dmitry.

He'd obviously crawled out of the bathroom and into one of the bedrooms, jamming the door shut with whatever he could find until he organised a way to get out in his current state. But being the idiot he was, he'd left a vibrant trail of sticky blood behind him.

The second I set eyes on him a wave of rage more intense than I'd ever experienced rocked through my body, turning my vision red. Beside me, I'd heard Sergei let out a low growl.

Dmitry's bloodshot eyes widened as they connected with mine, an expression of terror falling over his face. "A-Alexei," he stammered, clutching his thigh which was bleeding profusely. "I tried – I tried to stop them!"

Closing my eyes, I turned around and let out a deep, heavy breath. "Sergei, make sure he can't escape while we're gone. Call four of my men and put them on house surveillance in case the Italians come back. I'll deal with this merzavets later."

(Rat)

As I heard the safety of Sergei's gun click off I opened my eyes. A second later, two gunshots could be heard in quick succession and a shrill cry of pain echoed through the house.

Needing my fury to be satisfied, I turned to see Dmitry writhing on the floor in a pool of his own blood, kneecaps shattered from the bullets Sergei just shot into them. "Don't go anywhere while I'm gone, Dmitry. I'm coming back for you," I promised.

The memory made my hands clench into fists. I should never have trusted Dmitry so soon.

"Maybe you should stay with Grace, boss," Sergei suggested, glancing into the back where we were sat.

Grace still hadn't moved or spoken any more, she wasn't even crying. If she was aware that she was still bleeding in several places, she didn't show it. I watched her blank face carefully, the way her blue-grey eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking.

"Take her to my apartment and watch her," I dismissed. "Make sure she eats something."

Dmitry wasn't an issue I could put off until later.

"You're dealing with the rat on your own?"

"This is personal."

The car slowed as we turned into the housing estate, coming to a stop outside the safe house. Setting eyes on the place made my teeth grind together.

"I won't be long," I whispered to Grace, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll see you soon."

She didn't respond.

Inside the house all was silent except for the ringing in my ears, a song to my fury. I hoped Dmitry hadn't already died from loss of blood or shock, but somehow I doubted it. Rats tended to be hardy, good at surviving until you stamped on them.

I was going to crush him.

The viciousness of the thought surprised me and I paused at the top of the stairs, shaking the feeling off. I glanced around uneasily. Nobody was here, but now I was closer I could hear rugged, heavy breathing coming from the room before me.

I threw open the door so that it banged against the wall and Dmitry jumped in fright, letting out a cry. "Kill me," he hissed, a pool of blood already saturating the floor around him. "Please," he continued to beg, "just kill me."

"That sounds far too easy to me," I mused, kicking a stool across the floor so that it landed in front of him. I took a seat and leaned forward. "Death would mean an end to your pain, old friend, and I want you to suffer."

"I didn't mean...I didn't mean to do anything..."

"You and I both know that isn't true."

"Please, Alexei, just shoot me. Shoot me!!"

"Stop screaming or I will cut your tongue out," I warned calmly. Now that I had Dmitry in front of me, now that I could see his suffering, all my anger drained away. All I felt now was satisfaction and the anticipation of it.

Dmitry's head fell back and smacked into the wall before he righted it again, eyes rolling. Tears and sweat mingled on his contorted face, jewels of fear glistening.

He was nothing but a coward and a liar.

"Tell me what you were going to do to Grace."

"I-I wasn't...I liked Grace—"

"Don't say her name," I snarled.

Dmitry's eyes narrowed and a smile crept over his face, though it looked more like a grimace. "Why not?" he goaded.

"Don't test me."

"Grace really was a fine piece of ass, I can see the attraction."

Without a second thought I let my right fist fly, cracking into the cartilage of his nose. When I pulled my hand away it was smeared with red, but I felt no pain. I was too satisfied by the sound of Dmitry's.

"Tell me why you were working with the Italians," I demanded.

"Fuck you."

"You don't have long left, Dmitry," I sighed, checking my watch. "You're bleeding out pretty quickly. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to die? Not too nice when it happens slowly, I'd imagine."

"You think you're so fucking powerful, don't you?" He growled, baring his blood-stained teeth. He looked like a feral animal, wild and trapped.

"You and I both know my father is the one who wields the power."

"Viktor is a useless drunk, he'll be dead in a year."

"You're right," I shrugged like it didn't matter. Like that knowledge didn't eat away at me every single day.

"And then what, Alexei? You take over from your daddy?" Dmitry chuckled and blood gurgled in his throat. "Please, you couldn't even kill a man. You couldn't even kill me, after I betrayed you."

"Wishful thinking on your part. Unfortunately for you, you're wrong."

"But that's just the thing, isn't it? I'm not wrong. You would have killed me by now if you were going to."

I watched him carefully, noting the way his eyes lit up with amusement. "Killing you would be easy. I don't want anything about your death to be easy."

"You're a coward," he continued. "You wouldn't dare."

"Shut up."

"No wonder Viktor thinks you're such a disappointment."

"I said shut up–"

"You can't even do what needs to be done. Go on then, do it. Shoot me! Kill me!"

"Dmitry," I growled, pulling my gun out with a shaking hand, "I'm warning you."

"You're pathetic," he laughed, "you're worthless! A failure!" As he spoke I heard not his voice but my father's, I heard the whack of a leather belt against skin, I heard my own scream, younger, scared. "Fucking do it, you coward!"

I didn't even hear the bang of the gun. I was no longer in the present, I was in the past, surrounded by ghosts. The ghost of myself, the ghost of a dead man walking. Ghosts I'd rather forget.

I was shaking when my vision came into focus, a splatter of red against the wall like an explosion before my eyes.

The gun was on the floor. I left it there.

That was enough.

**

I couldn't get out of the house quickly enough. I flew down the stairs, jogging the second I made it out on to the street. A light drizzle had started up and I pulled my hood over my head as I ran, desperate to get rid of all my pent up emotions.

I couldn't go home to Grace being this much of a fucking mess. I couldn't let her see me fall apart, not when she needed me to be strong. Not when she was the only one with a valid reason to be falling apart.

Dmitry's words echoed in my head, tinged by the deep timber of my father's voice. No matter how fast I pushed myself, no matter how hard I shook my head or shouted as I sprinted through the streets, I couldn't stop listening. Coward. Pathetic. Disappointment.

I was all of those things and more, in so many ways. To so many people, everyone I cared about, it seemed like I let them all down. I'd let Grace down, and that shame hung heavier in my chest than any other.

When I reached a dark alleyway I stopped and began hammering my fists into the moss covered wall. They came away streaked with mud and blood and dirt, I punched until it felt like something shattered and even still.

Then I sank down onto my knees, the wet concrete soaking my jeans.

I was a coward. My father told me always look a man in the eyes when you pull the trigger yet I couldn't even do that. I couldn't look at Dmitry when I killed him, when I took his life as if it was my right. As if the thought didn't make me feel sick.

But another part of me, perhaps the part I was most terrified of, felt shame. I was ashamed that I couldn't be the man my father wanted. And what did that really mean? Did it make me a worse man that I wanted to impress a monster? I craved his approval like an addict, and with each furious scorn I came crawling back for more. I would crawl until my knees bled but all that meant was that I couldn't look in the mirror for shame.

It felt like I wasn't the same person from one moment to the next. As if my life force was a current, fluctuating between who I should be and who I wanted to be.

The times I felt most like myself, the times I felt like one person, the right person, was with Grace. She tethered me, somehow, to a reality that wasn't quite so terrible. And the selfish, deluded part of me hidden away wanted to believe that she could forgive me for all that I had done wrong. That she could love me in the way that I loved her. Silently, furiously, as if it was the only thing keeping me alive. As if it was the only thing keeping me me.

She had already seen the darkest parts of me, the deepest shadows of my existence thrown into sharp relief by her light. She could never love me. It was selfish of me to want her to. Even when we barely knew each other, at my club, I shot a man to protect her. I already knew how heavily death weighed upon her, how deeply she felt others' pain. How could I subject her to such an existence?

And worst of all I was selfish, because I would. For as long as she could bare to be beside me, I would never send her away.

**

I walked all the way home to my apartment, and by the time I got back it was dark. Sergei was sitting in the kitchen nursing a glass of liquor but Grace was nowhere to be seen.

Over the years I had perfected the art of wearing a mask to hide my emotions, so my voice was entirely passive when I asked, "Where is she?"

"In the bedroom," Sergei replied, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand after taking a sip.

"Has she said anything?"

"No."

"Did you offer her food?"

"She wouldn't speak to me, boss." He went to say something else then hesitated, looking down.

"What is it?"

"I know it's not my place to say, but I don't think leaving her was the best idea."

"You're right," I snapped, "it's not your place to say."

I stalked over to my bedroom and paused outside the door, taking a deep breath. It was unfair of me to be short with Sergei, but I knew as well as he did that it was a product of my anxiousness about Grace. He was right; I should never have left her.

"Grace?" I asked, knocking on the door.

There was no response, so I pushed it open. At first, I thought Sergei had been mistaken—Grace was nowhere to be seen. It took me a minute to realise where she was.

She sat by the side of the bed on the floor, her back against the wall and knees drawn up to her chest. Her face was pale and blank as she stared down at nothing, and I was surprised to find that she hadn't been crying. In fact, she looked emotionless.

"Grace?" I asked again. When she didn't answer, I walked over to her and sat down. She didn't look at me, she didn't even move or blink. A very bad feeling began to curdle in my chest. "I'm sorry for leaving you," I admitted, reaching for her hand which was pressed to the floor. Her skin was cold, palm downturned. She didn't yield when I tried to hold it. "I know I should have stayed."

"Did you kill him?"

I felt my voice catch as I went to answer, startled by the directness of the question. I didn't want to lie to Grace, even if the truth turned her away from me.

"Yes."

There was a long pause before her reply.

"Good."

A/N Helloooooo my wonderful readers. It really has been a long time! I'm so sorry about the wait—life just kind of got in the way and for a while I fell out of love with this story. But the good news is I'm excited to finally get it finished!

In celebration of its continuation, please tell me your favourite moments/chapters from Alexei&Grace so far. I'd love to hear them❤️

What did you all think of what went down in this update?

I know many of you will have lost patience or given up on this story and I don't blame you, but for those of you who are still with me — thank you! It means more than you know.

-Ellie