Midnight Purgatory (Bugrov Bratva #1)(42)

“Ack!” the man yells, stumbling back so hard that he loses his footing and ends up on his ass on the floor.

I jump to my feet, making sure to keep the bed between us. For some unknown reason, I grab a pillow and hold it in front of me like a shield.

“Who are you?” I demand.

The man buries his face in his hands and starts rocking back and forth. He’s not making any attempt to stand or move. He just sits on the cold cement floor and keeps swinging around, his face hidden behind his palms.

What the hell is going on?

I can hear the man mumbling into his hands but I don’t understand a word he’s saying. I creep around the bed slowly as my fear is replaced with pity.

He’s still mumbling fast but I can’t distinguish one word from the other. He’s sitting like a child, his legs pulled together and spread out in front of him. I feel my heart twist. It seems like he’s way more afraid than I am right now.

Then I hear a sob. More mumbling. A sniff. The shaking doesn’t stop. The rocking gets more pronounced. Now, I’m not scared of him; I’m scared for him.

“Hey, I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.” The rocking gets a little slower so I continue, making sure to talk slow and soft. “You just caught me by surprise.” As I inch a little closer, I realize that something about him is familiar to me. “My name is Alyssa. What’s yours?”

He responds by lifting his head a little. Then he parts two fingers just enough to allow one eye to peek out from between them.

And it dawns on me… I’m not dealing with an adult here. I mean, he may look like a full-grown man, but he definitely isn’t that.

I give him a friendly smile, then I wave. The one eye that I can see goes still but he keeps it fixed on me. So I sit down opposite him, keeping a healthy distance between us for his comfort, and I cover my face, too, mimicking his body language. Then I peek out at him by parting two of my fingers, the same way he just did.

He drops his hands a little. I catch the top half of his face first. I’ve definitely seen him before. He’s staring at me wide-eyed, mouth open, confused and wary and skittish.

I pull my hands down, too. He immediately hides his face again. I do the same. When he peeks out at me, I follow suit.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

And then, I hear something that makes my heart lift.

He giggles. It’s loud and sudden and childlike. And it clearly takes him off-guard, too, because he flinches and then slaps a hand over his mouth.

I laugh softly and give him a little shrug. His cheeks blossom with color but he drops his hands altogether.

Oh my God.

I see it now.

This is the guy who plays football on the front lawn with Uri every now and then. He’s at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered and muscly. He has to be… twenty, twenty-one?

Which is why I can be forgiven for being so shocked to be met with this personality.

A child trapped in an adult’s body. It sends a weird surge of emotion rippling through me, leaving more goosebumps in its wake.

I lift my hand and wave gingerly. He doesn’t return the gesture but his fingers twitch like he’s thinking about it. “I’m Alyssa,” I say again. But this time, I don’t ask for anything in return.

He stares at me unblinkingly, his eyes running up and down my body. Then he wraps his arms around his legs and rests his chin on his knees. I do the same. I catch a glimpse of a smile.

He pushes one foot forward. I do the same.

He scratches behind his ear. I do the same.

“You’re copying me,” he accuses with another giggle. His words are childlike in their innocence but his voice is so grown up. Deep and masculine. It doesn’t quite fit together.

“I guess I am.”

He pulls his legs in tighter as his eyes keep flitting up and down my body. If he had been a quote-unquote “normal” twenty-something, I might have been insulted by his brazen objectification. But in this case, I know he’s not checking me out. What he’s doing is sizing me up.

“I’m sorry I scared you earlier. I didn’t mean to.”

He frowns. “It’s not safe here.”

That feels like a bucket of ice water. Is he trying to warn me about Uri? Has he been hurt by Uri?

No. It can’t be. I’ve seen them together. Sure, I’ve watched from a distance, but body language is hard to deny. It’s hard to fake, too.

“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my tone as calm as possible.

“The rat spray. It’s poisonous.” Again, I suppress a shiver of unease. What is he talking about? Is there something going on that I’m not aware of? He turns his nose up to the ceiling. “But… I can’t smell anything.”

“What are you trying to smell?”

“The rat spray. To get rid of the rats.”

“There are no rats here.”

He starts rocking back and forth again. It’s not as pronounced as the last time, but it’s an easy tell. Still, I have no idea what about my statement has upset him. “There are rats,” he insists in a harsh mumble. “Uri said.”

Ah.

“Oh! Of course. That’s right,” I say, slapping my palm against my forehead. “How could I forget? There were rats but Uri took care of them.”