Chapter 322: Artemiy - The tree 1
Tears shimmer in Olena’s gaze as she murmurs, “I do trust you. Both of you.”
She might say that, but from the looks of it, she doesn’t. “You don’t,” I retort. “Because if you did, you would have already told us the truth instead of trying to sneak your way out of here.”
Unfortunately, my voice rises more than intended, making her flinch, and I curse under my breath as I pull her into my arms. Vasiliy glares at me like he wants to murder me, and I’m not entirely sure he won’t try it while I’m sleeping.
“You know that you are safe with us,” I murmur softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as her body trembles against mine, not wanting her to get more upset than she already is. “That we will do the impossible to protect you.”
Vasiliy steps behind her, and just like last night, we hold her for several minutes, whispering reassuring words to her. Slowly, she stops trembling, but I can tell she’s still very much upset.
When she’s ready, she moves away from us and makes sure her coat is pulled tight around her—which seems very odd, but I let it drop for now. “Can we go home?”
Vasiliy is the first to reply, and of course he says, “Yes.”
But I take my time giving her my answer, my gaze taking her in, looking for any sign that would indicate what happened to her. I have my suspicions, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions right away, even when her body language is telling me exactly what I need to know.
I might look like a very chill guy, and for the most part, that’s true, but what people fail to know is that for over twenty years, I’ve been assessing people, studying them, with the sole purpose of knowing if and what they are hiding. I’m quite good at what I do, if I can say so myself.
However, no matter how good I am at my job, I still failed to see the signs of what my ex-wife was doing behind my back. For a long time, I was in denial that someone I cared about deeply could be so cruel to me, but Judite taught me a very valuable lesson that I won’t forget anytime soon— even those we trust the most can and will betray us in very painful ways.
Olena’s hands tremble, and the way she pulls her coat tight around her, her bottom lip quivering, her entire posture cowering away from us, and the way she avoids looking at us are clues enough to know that someone did something to her—something that leaves dead bodies behind.
My blood boils with anger, and my demon lashes his tail back and forth, demanding the blood of the one who touched what’s mine—who scared her to the point that she’d rather return home than finish the maze because we might risk bumping into him sooner or later. And that’s exactly what I hope will happen.
I should agree with Vasiliy and say, “Sure, let’s go home and spend the night cuddling with our love until there’s no doubt left in her mind that we can and will protect her from any harm,” but what I end up saying is, “It’s really important to get to the center of the maze.”
Annoyance flickers in my cousin’s gaze, so I rake my fingers through the hair at the back of my neck and add, “Local legend claims that if we give up and don’t finish the maze, we’ll have an entire year of bad luck,” trying to convince them to keep going because I need Olena here.
There’s no such legend around these parts. The only reason I told such a brazen lie is because I’m sure Olena will keep refusing to tell us the truth, so I need her here to catch whoever brought so much distress to her. There’s no doubt in my mind that he did something to her—like touching her inappropriately—and I need to break his fucking arms to teach him never to touch what’s mine ever again. Or any other woman, for that matter.
Olena’s resolve is starting to weaken, but my dear cousin needs more convincing.
“Trust me, no one wants to be around me for an entire year of bad luck. When shit starts happening to me, it goes on and on and on.” This part isn’t quite a lie, because our entire extended family knows I’m a magnet for bad luck. It so happens that I’m now in the short window of time when my life isn’t a complete mess—thank Lucifer for small mercies. “Remember that year when I broke both my arms?” I ask Vasiliy, who grins right away. “My father had to wipe my ass for two months. And a day after the cast came off, I broke my left leg.”
At that, Vasiliy starts laughing, and even Olena tries to hide a faint smile. I take that as a win.
“So, unless anyone wants to be responsible for taking me to the bathroom, we’d better make it to that center,” I press them, and Vasiliy makes a gagging sound.
Yeah, just what I thought.
“We can keep going until we reach the center,” Olena mumbles, the tone of her voice indicating that she’d rather be anywhere else than here.
I hate that I have to do this to her when she’s been through so much, but I can’t let that motherfucker get away with whatever he did to her. This was supposed to be such a beautiful night, but he ruined it when he decided to put his filthy hands on my sweet Olena.
I put on a bright smile before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. Then I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her against me, discreetly trying to peek inside her coat. I need to know why she keeps it wrapped around herself, but it’s too dark to see anything.
No matter. I’ll examine every inch of her body when we return home.
I gently nudge Olena forward, Vasiliy on her other side, and it’s impossible to miss how she jumps at every sound or how she whimpers ever so slightly whenever we run into other people, her pupils dilating as she takes in their faces before returning to normal. My cousin starts to catch on to what I’m trying to do because he finally looks at me, a determined look on his face, his jaw clenched tight. He gives me a nod, letting me know that he has my back.
Olena doesn’t seem to notice how our gazes linger a little too long on the face of every man we encounter, how carefully we study her every reaction, but so far, nothing. I’m determined to stay here all night, but I’m starting to fear that he might have left, probably not wanting to get caught. However in many cases, these kind of men like to observe their victims, because it makes them powerful to see the paying they have inflicted.
Once we bump into our guy–because we will, if not today, then tomorrow—I will stand by her side as she kicks him in the balls and takes her power back. This is the main reason why I’m doing this.
The Lords can be very shitty people. As a shitty Lord myself, it’s something I can’t deny. Most Lords are fucked up in the head, but even so, they try to help people all over the world, especially women and children. One of the operations the team I was part of carried out was rescuing trafficked women.
What many fail to realize is how powerless those who have been abused can feel. Abuse takes so much from people that they become nothing more than an empty shell. This is why I need to find this guy right now, so I can show Olena that the only reason he hurt her is because he’s a pathetic parasite who harms women because it makes him feel superior. What he doesn’t realize is how weak he really is.
This is the third time I’m doing the maze, but each year is different, so it takes us a while to find the center. Unfortunately, none of the guys we pass by is the one I’m seeking, but I hold onto hope that he’s nearby, waiting for another chance to get close to Olena once more. I’m even consider using her at bait, but Vasiliy most likely will be against it, so I don’t mention this idea.
It’s my fault that this has happened to her. Instead of coming up with stupid ideas of having Olena leave our side and hide between the tall stalks while we looked for her, I should have ripped out my tongue and stomped all over it. Then all of this could have been avoided.
An hour after we entered the maze, we finally find the center.
“That is… impressive,” my cousin breathes as the three of us take in the old tree in the middle of the field.
Even Olena is mesmerized by the tree. And I understand why.
Thousands upon thousands of glowing moths sit all over the tree, giving it an almost fantastical appearance. And next to it stands Yao, his palm pressed against its bark, his head tilted to the side, giving the impression that he’s listening to something.
His eyebrows rise as he looks at everyone standing in front of the tree.
“Slayer and beast, finally reunited after centuries of being apart,” the farmer says, looking at Vasiliy, his eyes glowing strangely.
But my attention isn’t on him. It’s on Olena, who suddenly tenses up beside me, and I know the motherfucker is close by.
Now, all I have to do is find him in the crowd.