My EX's Mafia Twin

4. Ice also burns [Part 1]

4. Ice also burns.

Katarina.

My eyes snap open and I kick whatever it is that engulfs me, shaking my arms and legs in desperation.

I hold back the scream in my mouth and look around crazily.

What the f**k?

A neat room full of luxuries is where I find myself, the white sheets beneath me nauseating me, making me feel even more like a sacrifice. Without thinking, I rush to the door, trying to get the f**k out while shaking the handle with both hands, but it's a futile attempt.

It's locked.

I move to the window, there are bars that look new, as if the place has been recently remodeled... remodeled for me.

I look down below me, more than five stories above me from the ground.

Fuck, f**k, f**k.

They replaced my cage with a gold one.

But, even if the cage is gold, it's still a f*****g cage.

I move to the bathroom, but there's not even a small window in the spacious place. There's even a Jacuzzi with a thousand fragrances that inject more hatred into my veins. I turn around, trying to find another way out, but I run into the mirror and the woman with crazed eyes waving at me in the reflection is someone I hardly recognize.

But it's me.

My hair is a ragged mess, my lips are chapped and parched, there's dirt on my skin, makeup smeared gutturally, but what surprises me most... are my eyes.

There is fire in them, but a bad fire.

I look wild, almost primitive, the ball gown is torn and dirty, my almost bare shoulders showing painful bruises bathing my skin, making me look more unhinged than ever.

Without looking around, I grab one of the showers from the Jacuzzi and wielding it tightly, I smash it against the mirror, right into my reflection.

The roar could deafen me, thundering painfully in my ears.

Glass goes flying in all directions, I feel one cutting my hand and when my feet move, I cut my soles. I don't even register the pain. As deranged as I feel, I grab a large, sharp piece, shove it in my hand and move toward the door of my new cage.

I hear footsteps, then someone enters and I don't even notice who it is, I just move out of inertia and stab, wanting to hurt.

Wanting to kill.

A fist catches the other end of the glass, stopping my aggression in its tracks, the door closes in a clang and as if arrested in space and time, I find myself staring into Killian Colleman's eyes.

I breathe shakily, like a savage, as he stares unflinchingly at me.

Blood drips down his forearm, just as it drips down mine.

Both wounded by the same weapon, marked in the same place.

"Are you suicidal?" He whispers, his voice hoarser than I remember. "Let go of that f*****g glass."

I squeeze harder, cutting my hand more, hear the blood dripping on the floor, but as I squeeze, he squeezes too and his wound becomes as deep as mine.

Red, liquid blood falls to the white floor, I'm sure his DNA mixes with mine in an almost maniacal offering, but neither looks away from the other.

He doesn't flinch from the pain.

Neither do I.

The physical pain?

That one I can handle.

The pain that starts tearing at my chest?

That one I'm not so sure about.

"Let it out, Katarina."

My name in his mouth only infuriates me more and I squeeze harder, more blood trickles down my forearm, falling to the floor.

Killian bares his teeth in rage and squeezes harder, but he doesn't make the attempt to take the glass from me.

If he takes it from me, he hurts me more.

If I take it from him, I hurt him more.

So we both squeeze, hurting each other in equal measure.

What a twisted f*****g game.

"How many more scars will I have on my body because of you, ice princess?"

"I'm only interested in burying this right in your chest" I growl at him, "it's the last scar you'll have because of me, I swear."

And I look away from his eyes, seeing the scar on his forearm, ironically, it's the same forearm that right now is dripping in blood. That scar bears my name, he himself was injured in his attempt to snatch the knife from me that last time I saw him, three years ago now.

At the same time, I feel his eyes on my neck, where only a small scar bathes my skin... That wound also bears his name.

And there we both are, staring at the mark left on each of us the last time we saw each other.

Today we are adding a new pair to the collection.

I squeeze once more and this time hiss as I feel it cut deep.

Killian's eyes dilate with rage, he leans down, bites the scar on my neck and I scream, letting go of the glass.

He curses under his breath and pulls his arm back, still clutching the glass, but hiding it from me.

I keep looking at him, feeling so wild I don't recognize myself, this side only he can bring out. And just as I'm about to launch myself at his body again, the door opens and Demyan Ivanov appears.

Killian straightens up and his eyes go out, staring impassively across the room, almost like a ghost.

"Milaya" the asshole who thinks he's my father denies, looking at the mess I am, "is it so hard for you to give up?"

"Never."

He sighs, tired and disappointed.

"You take over," he says to Killian, who nods obediently, "I have enough on my plate to add to it."

"Yes, sir."

And Demyan Ivanov walks away, leaving me alone with Killian Colleman's f*****g psycho.