The Pretty Psycho (St. Vasili’s Academy #2)

20. Vega

20

VEGA

Something was sitting on my heart, slowly picking at it, clawing through the middle, making me bleed out on this marble fucking floor I walked on, as I rushed toward the training room, where I knew I could throw my knives. Okay, fine.

I knew what was sitting on my heart, or rather, who was sitting on my heart, but as I went through the long hallways of the Academy, heading toward my target, I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about the scene I had just witnessed nor the fact that I almost—almost—killed that girl.

Woman.

Whatever the fuck she was.

It didn't help that she looked like a supermodel, all shiny hair and those big, round eyes and plump lips without a single bruise on her body. It also didn't help that I had way too many insecurities when it came to this whole relationship with Adrian.

This was exactly why I wanted to run from him. This heaviness in my chest was exactly what I wanted to avoid. One look at the two of them made me see how someone else could make him maybe even happier than me with all my fucked-up thoughts and past. I would never be able to give him kids, heirs, and wasn't that what every single man in this world wanted or maybe even needed?

For someone to continue their legacy.

There was also the fact that I had no idea what I wanted for my future or where I wanted to be. Staying with him would mean staying in this fucked-up world, and I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to keep on living from mission to mission, thankful that I'd survived. While also sad that they didn't kill me, finally, saving me from this misery.

Seeing them together turned my stomach around, making me feel sick. As he only stood there, letting her kiss him with his hands on her butt. I wasn't a fool. I already suspected they had something in the past, but what that something was, I had no idea. What if it was something serious? What if she was the girl he was supposed to stay with?

What if she could give him everything I would never be able to?

"Fuck!" I roared, pushing the doors of the training room open, seeing several other people standing around, talking or getting ready to throw knives. I had never spoken to any of them, but judging by the look in their eyes, they knew who I was.

But they all stayed away, noticing my energy and the need to be left alone.

I was thankful Adrian stayed behind, letting me go when I needed time to myself. Maybe I had overreacted and shouldn't have run off, but I couldn't stay there while the memories of the two of them together kept flashing in front of my eyes. Hell, I could barely take it now when I was away from all of them.

The hope I had for the two of us was a volatile little thing, feeling like the best damn thing to ever happen to you in the beginning, turning you into this jealous monster over time because you didn't want to let it go. There were not many things in my life I could hope for, but him… He was what I dreamed of. He was what I wished for during those times I thought I knew what I wanted for my future.

Even as uncertain as I was, I knew I wanted him there, with me, running into the motherfucking sunset together if need be, but I wanted him with me. And the moment that woman's lips landed on his, every single one of those dreams shattered, leaving me breathless, boneless, half dead, because I suddenly couldn't see myself in all those illusions I was having.

I could only see the two of them.

People moved away, giving me space as I stalked toward the last booth, happy to see it empty. Several throwing knives already stood on the high table to my right, with a brand-new target in front of me, ready for my anger. Had I stayed there I would've taken out this anger on either him or her, and the last thing we all needed was for her to pull back from this war, because even I knew we needed every single person.

And it wasn't like I could run or get away from here. I knew what was at stake and I knew there were people outside these walls that wanted to harm me. I was good, but I wasn't as good as the entire Zylla Empire. If Heinrich and Gerard were working together, then that meant they had twice as many people to go after us, and Heinrich knew me.

He knew every single one of my hiding places. He knew how I thought, what I wanted, and how I acted in these situations. He knew me better than I wanted to admit, so I was stuck.

Stuck inside these walls, slowly going crazy.

Then there was that other thing. The fact that Tyler wasn't just Tyler. He was Dain, Adrian's brother, and I still didn't know how I felt about that. I wasn't processing any of this properly, and some shrink out there in the world would have a field day examining me and listening to my life story.

Maybe I didn't know how to process all these emotions, but I knew how to get rid of my anger, at least for a little while. Instead of pondering over all the things I couldn't change, I focused on my target, my eyes narrowing at the drawn head on white paper and the points written between the lines. I didn't exactly care for the points, nor did I care about the target itself.

Instead, I imagined Tyler's, or, well, Dain's face right in the middle of it, letting the anger fuel me. I flexed the fingers of my right hand, still wincing when the sharp pain shot through my arm, letting me know I was nowhere near ready to use that hand.

Which pissed me off.

Again.

It wasn't about my hand, not really. It was about the fact that I had never felt this powerless, this weak, this fucked up, and there was not just one thing I could blame. Oh no, there was a motherfucking cocktail of things that brought me into this very situation.

My body felt foreign. My heart wasn't in my chest anymore. My mind was fuzzy, broken, sad, you fucking name it. I had no idea what I should do, where to go, who to complain to, but I knew I couldn't keep all of this in.

I grabbed the knife with my left hand, feeling its weight, pressing my fingers around the metallic handle, and I threw. The knife lodged itself into the center of the target, surprising me. It's been a long time since I had to use my left hand, and while it was a requirement The Schatten had made us learn, I rarely ever had to use it.

But it was obviously a handy little thing, especially now.

The next knife went into my grip and flew toward the target fluidly, hitting the center of the head of my imaginary friend. But the target in front of me didn't stay imaginary too long.

The face of every single person that had ever fucked me over suddenly started flying in front of my eyes, and without thinking, so did the knives. One after another they lodged in the center of the chest of Heinrich, Alena, Tyler, and every other person that had broken my heart over the years.

I was breathing heavily while sweat ran down my temples, soaking me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't fucking stop.

Adrian's face came up next, making me suddenly stop.

"Are you done?" he asked, and I shook my head, finally seeing that he wasn't just part of my imagination, but he was really here. Standing in front of the target with his arms crossed and those dark eyes trained on me.

"Move," I bit out, taking another knife into my hand. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I want to talk to you."

"Adrian—"

"Tell me something, Bambi," he cut me off, glaring at me. "When you told me I was yours, did you mean only when things were going well, or, like, all the time? Because I don't know a single relationship where people don't fight or, I don't know, have a motherfucking past!" he roared, the vein on his forehead popping up. "Or was it just convenient for you because you felt possessive in that moment?"

"Fuck. You!"

"You already did that, baby girl, but that's beside the point. Answer my question, Vega." His voice dropped, dripping with sarcasm. "Was I only yours when things were good and when we were within those four walls? Or did you ever actually plan on fucking staying, including when we came out into the real world."

"You're being unfair."

"I'm being unfair?" He scoffed, pointing at himself. "I'm about to go and bring you a mirror, baby girl, because the person that's being unfair here is you." He pointed at me, clearly pissed off. Why? I had no fucking idea. "When are you going to stop running, Vega? Huh? When are you going to stop and fucking see that I'm crazy about you?"

"Stop," I whispered, unable to hear it right now.

"You have me wrapped around your finger, and you still don't trust me!" His voice boomed around us, making me close my eyes. Because he was right.

He was fucking right, and just like before, I ran. My first reaction was not to stay and ask questions, but to run, allowing my fucked-up mind to create all these scenarios that actually made no sense.

He chose me, he kept choosing me, but it was hard to believe in even an ounce of love when all you've ever known was violence and death.

"Move, Adrian," I bit out, unable to listen to him anymore. I wanted him gone, just so I could wallow in my self-hatred and the pity I often harbored. But I needed it right now. I needed to break myself without him as an audience. "Now!"

"No!" He shook his head, widening his stance. "I'm not moving anywhere."

Fuck.

Fuck him with his dark eyes and the paradise I could see waiting for me in the future. Fuck him and all those pretty promises when I knew, I fucking knew, that he would soon realize what a fuckup I truly was.

Fuck. Him.

"Fine," I spat out, lifting my arm higher. "Last warning."

"Gimme your best shot," he challenged me, his eyes shining with an anger matching my own.

Narrowing my eyes, I located the target, and I threw. The knife flew through the air while my eyes tracked it. It was like in slow motion, Adrian's eyes on mine, his body unmoving and my heart in my throat, waiting for the knife to hit the target.

The tip lodged itself right next to his head, and I didn't miss the wince on his face the moment it found its mark.

Crimson blood dripped down his ear moments later, showing me that I hit exactly what I wanted to.

"You missed," he grunted, dropping his arms.

"I never miss, Adrian. I threw it right where I wanted it." Danger flashed in his eyes, making me back up slowly, but it was too late. He stalked from the target all the way to me, pushing me against the wall and taking one of the knives from the table. My reflexes kicked in then and as he pressed against me, pushing the blade of the knife against my throat, I did the same. My hand landed on top of the table that was still within reach and pulled a knife to his throat, looking him straight in the eye.

We stood there, with knives at each other's throats, both breathing heavier than before.

"What now?" I asked, my voice breathless, hating the way I sounded. I hated that even angry, he could make me feel almost too small, too powerless. He made me feel things I always dreamed of but was also terrified of. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Killing you would be easier on my sanity, that's for sure," he spat out, clearly as angry at me as I was at him. Maybe even more. "But no, baby. What I'm going to do now is explain how things are going to work between us, and you'll listen even if it's the last thing you do."

I didn't like that plan. As a matter of fact, I hated it. I didn't want to stand here and listen to him, because I knew I would crumble and let him back in. I was defenseless against him, and no matter how many times I told myself that it was better if we stayed away from each other, he always found a way to push through all those walls I've tried creating.

"You don't run from me," he murmured, his voice holding a note of danger I hadn’t heard before. "Because God help me, Vega, the next time you decide that you want to run, I'll chase you and I'll fucking spank you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week." Fuck. I didn't like that wetness pooled between my legs the moment those words slipped through his lips. "If we have a problem, we talk about it. If a woman from my past decides to jump on me while I'm trying to push her off!" he roared, his eyes wild. "Then you fucking stay and let me explain."

"You weren't trying to push her away," I mumbled, hating how small he was making me feel. He made me see how stupid all of it was, but I couldn't help my thoughts. I couldn't silence the demons in my head, whispering all these things in my ear. "You were kissing her."

"God-fucking-dammit, woman!" He closed his eyes, dropping the knife on the floor, while mine stayed firmly in its spot, right against his throat. "I'm crazy about you. I live and breathe for you. Why can't you see it?" His anger was easier to handle than the pain I could see right now. "You just don't get it, do you? You don't get that I would do anything for you. I would burn everything, fuck, I would even abandon this whole mission if you just asked me to."

But that was the problem. He would do it now because I was a new shiny toy, but what about later? What if he didn't like me anymore? What if he decided that dealing with me was too much?

"You know what?" He chuckled sadly, sending bouts of panic through my veins. "I have literally tried everything to make you see, to make you feel what I feel, to apologize for what I did and for all those secrets I've kept. But you." He shook his head. "You're not even trying." His words pierced straight through my heart, because deep down, I knew he was right.

I kept placing the blame on him, finding excuse after excuse to run from him, to hide myself, to avoid having to face the truth, while he did everything.

"And you know what that tells me?" he murmured, pressing against the blade, pulling my attention to where his blood started dripping slowly, making me panic. "That tells me that you don't care, Vega. You don't fucking care, and as much as I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, especially considering that you went through hell, I cannot. Not anymore. I can't fight for someone that wants to give up every step of the way. I'm tired. I'm tired of begging people to stay in my life. I'm tired of begging you to feel something for me, to show me. I deserve more than your scraps of love."

My breathing hitched, seeing the resolution in his eyes clear as day.

He was done.

God.

No.

"Adrian—"

"Save it," he said, taking a step back, looking at me with nothing but sorrow. "You wanted to be free of me? Here." He laughed. "Be fucking free. Do whatever the fuck you want, Vega. I'm done." He turned around and started walking toward the door, leaving me there with a heart that was no longer mine.

He was… No. He couldn't be. He wouldn't. No.

I threw the knife on the floor just as the door slammed behind him and wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling colder than ever.

He couldn't be done. No, no, no. We were just… We were just starting.

I slid down the wall as my mind finally grasped what happened. What I just did.

He was done.

And I understood. I fucking understood and I hated myself just a little bit more, because he was right. I didn't deserve his love and he deserved more than me. He deserved someone who wasn't as fucked up and someone who could freely tell him how they felt. Not this girl that had no idea what she even wanted from life.

But I loved him. I knew I loved him more than I had ever loved anything, and I knew I could never tell him. Because no matter what, The Schatten still held that piece of me in its claws, reminding the brainwashed part of me that no one could ever be trusted. Not even the man I loved.