Chapter 5

Nikolai

I walked down the hallway, not particularly concerned about missing first period. I was still irritated with myself for getting tangled up in this mess, but I'd agreed, so I wanted to deal with Connors as soon as possible. How had this even happened? Being a generally unapproachable person had left me unequipped with how to deal with impassioned pleas from desperate females and I was paying the price. Christ.

I needed to talk to Jack to see who had a class with Connors, so we could take care of him for the day. The fact that Hannah tracked me down and proposed this insane plan told me everything I needed to know about her fear of that motherfucker. I wasn’t used to being aware of the emotions of other people and hated how invested I was in this. I had to talk to Jack, then get it off my mind for a while. I would have loved to take care of Connors myself. It wasn’t like I hadn’t broken a couple of noses, in addition to other bones, for my dad when I was more closely affiliated with the Bratva. Small time enforcer shit.

However, I needed to make whatever we did to Connors look like an accident, and if I got within ten feet of that asshole, all the damage would definitely be intentional. Jack had warned me that my father brought out the worst in me, and he was fucking right. My stint with the Bratva hadn’t exactly taught me anger management.

Originally, I’d wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and become Pakhan, like him. I knew the organization was dirty. I mean, fuck, it was called organized crime for a reason. I’d been raised in it, knew how it worked, and usually had no problem with the moral dilemma that it would present for most people. Guns, drugs, information—I was taught to act like they were commodities, profits. I thought I knew about the business, but last summer, I realized I didn’t know anything at all. I knew my old man was ruthless, but I had learned how sick and disturbed he’d become. He was dealing in shit I had no idea about. When I saw firsthand what he was into, I got the fuck out.

My father was not happy about this; I had been very close to becoming a vor, a made man, in the Russian mob. I told him I wanted to go to college instead, get an education to be useful to the outfit. I wasn’t stupid; I knew my father would not just let me out. I had to pretend like it was still my future while I did everything I could to disengage from it. Usually, the way to get fully made was to kill someone, something that hadn’t bothered me then. I had seen men killed more times than I could count. I have a suspicion it may have fucked me up a bit.

This was why I was so furious that Hannah would even mention the Bratva to me. To say it was a trigger was an understatement. Of course, it didn’t take me long to realize that she wasn’t being calculating, she wasn’t flirting. She was fucking clueless. Sure, her situation was shitty, but her instincts for dealing with it were fucking terrible. Call the mob to deal with some kid in high school? Jesus Christ.

Of course, those same shitty instincts got her exactly what she wanted: protection. Although, I had to admit, last year I probably would have walked away from her and let her deal with this shit on her own. I was an even bigger dick then. Before I found out what my father's organization was all about. Before I realized what I was becoming, what they were turning me into. What my father was turning me into.

I walked up to Becker’s locker, a smirk forming as I watched him shove his tongue down Shelby Miller’s throat. When his hand snaked down to grab her ass, I punched him in the arm to get his attention. Jack pulled away from her and spun around, his fist clenched, before relaxing when he saw it was me.

Jack was also a touchy bastard, and he had probably been about to drag Shelby in some closet to fuck. He smiled and punched me back. “What the fuck, Nik?” he asked playfully, but he was probably genuinely irritated he wasn’t going to get laid.

"Hey, Becker, I need to talk to you," I said, eyeing Shelby meaningfully. Shelby was standing there, rubbing her hands up and down Jack’s chest, clearly looking to continue what he’d started.

Jack turned and released her. "Later,” he said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and turning his attention completely to me. This was another characteristic of Jack’s. He was completely dismissive of women if he wasn’t trying to fuck them.

Shelby, unhappy with being so abruptly blown off, started to pout. "Will I see you at the party tonight? Maybe we should go together." She rubbed her hands up and down his arm, her eyes peeking up under her lashes. I could see how that shit normally worked for her. She was a knockout, with long blond hair, dark green eyes, and a body worth a second look. With any other guy, she’d have him on his knees.

Jack wasn't just any guy, though.

Unmoved, Jack gave her a cold stare, silently reminding her they were not dating, and this type of shit was not something he responded to. Women were always trying to get a commitment out of Jack. His emotionally unavailable persona was like a drug to them, as though they were unable to resist trying to reform him. Shelby slowly removed her hand and swallowed at Jack’s brutal reminder.

"Leave, Shelby," Jack said curtly.

Jack was a bigger dick to women than even me, and that was saying something. I wasn’t really a dick; I just didn’t want anything more than a lay. Jack could be a real motherfucker, but only if they pushed him to give more than he wanted, which was usually nothing.

I thought one of the reasons Jack and I were so close was because we were both such assholes. We didn't look much alike, me with dark hair and blue eyes, and Jack with medium brown hair and green eyes, but that didn't mean we weren't cut from the same cloth. I mean, you didn’t get this way because you had a traditional upbringing, which neither of us had. We just were who we were. Some girls were just into emotionally stunted dickheads, unfortunately for them.

Shelby stared at him, her face full of longing, frustration, and irritation. “Fine,” she muttered and stormed off.

Jack rolled his eyes in aggravation. "What's up?" he asked, clearly irritated by the drama.

I grinned at him. “If you’re going to fuck them, you’re going to have to deal with the drama, bro.”

Jack smirked and punched me again. “What the fuck do you want, Ivanov?”

"I need you to take care of something for me today. I kind of got myself into a situation."

His eyebrows shot up. I didn’t do things I didn’t want to do, so for me to admit I got caught up in this thing with Hannah was going to be awkward to explain. I still barely understood why I was doing it myself.

He stiffened. "What kind of situation?"

I sighed and leaned against the lockers. I understood his reaction, his concern. He knew shit had gone down over the summer with my dad. He knew that I’d been getting primed to be made, when I’d suddenly pulled away. I didn't really get into it with him because I hated talking about it, and I didn't want to lay all that bullshit in his lap. However, I needed to explain that this was a far less serious issue, if similarly aggravating. I quickly outlined Hannah's situation and how I was going to help her out with Connors.

Jack frowned at me, cocking his head slightly to the left.

"What?" I said, somewhat defensively.

"Nothing, just . . . I'm surprised you're even doing this. Is this the only way this chick will fuck you or something?"

I swallowed my laugh. He’d obviously never seen Hannah, or he wouldn’t have asked me that. Although, she was the littlest bit attractive, once you overlooked all her terrible clothes and lack of grooming.

"Jesus, no, you fuckhead. She just managed to make me feel bad for her." I had never uttered those words in my life, and it made me uncomfortable to say them out loud. They were considered weakness in my world. I quickly deflected. "Since when do I do all this shit just to fuck some chick? There are plenty to choose from with far less effort." This was also true.

Jack still looked confused by my motives, but slowly nodded his head. "True. Okay, what do you need me to do?”