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God of Ruin (Legacy of Gods, #4)(126)

Author:Rina Kent

Now, I know why my overly insistent sister who never gives up did. She was probably instructed by Nikolai to make sure I stay away so he could do whatever he wanted with Lan.

I’m already running for my keys at the entrance as I type.

Mia: Meet me at the Heathens’ mansion. Give the guards at the front my name and the code 01483.

Brandon: On my way.

I’ve never driven so fast in my life. The entire time, my mind is invaded by all sorts of bleak scenarios. None of which has a good ending.

After I arrive at the Heathens’ mansion, I go straight to the annex house that they use as some form of a torture chamber.

As expected, two buff guards and Ilya stand in front of the door like watchdogs.

Upon seeing me, Ilya steps forward. His large frame blocks the sun so that I’m staring at his poker face and unexpressive eyes. “You should go back, miss.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” I sign, not caring that he doesn’t understand a thing.

Ilya places an arm in front of me, and I can see him struggle not to push me down like a criminal. He’s definitely under strict orders not to allow me access to the room.

I slip from beneath his hold and steal a gun from one of the other guards. I point it at Ilya and motion to the side.

He lifts his hands in the air. “You don’t want to do this, miss. It’s not your fight.”

It absolutely is my fight. All of this is happening in great part because of me.

The other part, of course, is because Landon is an asshole who can’t breathe without exhaling venom into the world.

But I’ve come to terms with that, and I foolishly thought Nikolai had, too.

I keep the gun pointed at Ilya and the others as I grab the handle of the door and slip inside.

My hand with the gun falls to my side as I stand at the entrance of a large white room with a gruesome scene in the middle.

Killian, Jeremy, and Nikolai surround Landon, who’s on his knees on the floor, his lip cut, one eye swollen shut, and blood smeared over his white shirt.

Some of it splashed on Killian’s and Jeremy’s T-shirts and Nikolai's naked chest. At this moment, my brother, who I love more than any words could describe, looks like a stranger in the form of a beast.

A weapon of destruction.

An uncontrollable entity of rage.

Landon looks up at Kill with a bloodied grin, coughs, and speaks in a hoarse voice. “Is that all you got? If you’re going to fuck up Glyn’s trust, the least you can do is make it worthwhile.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Nikolai drives his fist into his face. “You really thought we’d take the truce and let you mess around with my sister? My fucking sister? I’ll kill you before you put your hands on her again.”

“Then do it.” Landon’s provocative grin disappears. “That’s the only way you’ll keep me away from her.”

Despite the terrifying scene, I can’t help the imaginary hand that squeezes my heart and tightens my stomach.

“You’re a fucking dead man.” Jeremy kicks his side.

“Highly doubtful.” Landon’s eyes slide to mine as if he knew I was there this whole time. “Hey, little muse. I believe you should revoke Jeremy's highly underserved nice card, don’t you think?”

Three pairs of eyes turn toward me and it’s Nikolai who speaks first.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Get out.”

I throw the gun to the floor and sign as I stride toward them, “So you can continue to torture him?”

“That’s the idea,” Killian says. “Remove yourself from the situation, Mia.”

“No.”

“I don’t know what this motherfucker has been saying to you, but you can’t believe any of it,” Jeremy says.

“Like the fact that he kept his part of the deal and you didn’t? You already agreed to a truce, so why the hell are you doing this?”

“I never agreed to the fucking truce,” Nikolai speaks in a voice so tight, the veins in his neck bulge with tension. “He does not, under any circumstances, get to touch you and live.”

“But that’s not up to you!” I get in his face, my movements brimming with anger. “This is my life and I have the right to decide whoever gets in it. Neither you nor anyone else has a say in it.”

“Mia,” he growls in warning.

I glare back at him and sign more calmly now, “Let him go.”

“No.”

“My apologies for breaking up the touching family moment, but hey you, uncultured swine.” He looks up at Jeremy, who’s now twisting Landon’s right arm at an awkward angle. “I know you’re jealous you’ll never be as artistically genius as me, but you’re causing strain on my priceless hand. Let go, would you?”