A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 17

When I’d woken up in the morning, Miran disappeared.

Sometimes, I woke up in the middle of the night, checking to see if he was still sleeping next to me. It was silly, but it comforted me that his body lay next to mine.

I liked my body flushed to his every night.

I pressed my finger against the watch on my wrist, and the machine spoke the time. Eight P.M. I frowned. It was an hour later than when he was usually home. He wasn’t ever late. Something seemed off. Maybe he was stuck at work or in traffic? I sat in the living room, reading a book with Bailey somewhere nearby.

Bailey’s barking distracted me from the words.

I leaned forward, aiming for her head. A few seconds later, I found it and rubbed my hand over it.

“What is it, girl?”

She just barked again.

“Are you hungry?”

That couldn’t be possible because I had just fed her an hour ago.

Her barking continued, even louder this time, and I closed my book. She stepped away from my hand, and her heavy footsteps retreated from me.

Where was she going?

Her barking was uncommon. Usually, she only barked once or twice to alert me when I was about to fall… but this was different. My shoulders tensed up, alarmed, and my head followed her footsteps.

The entrance.

Was it Miran?

But Bailey never barked when he was around.

I stood up to my feet immediately.

Something was terribly wrong. With stumbling footsteps, I headed to the kitchen, rushing, miscounting the steps, and hitting the edge of the table. Groaning, I gritted my teeth, and my hands moved over everything, digging through the cabinets. I squealed when my fingers prickled against something sharp. Ignoring the sharp pain and liquid oozing out of me, I paused and slid my hand, hesitantly, running a finger over the blade.

Yes. A knife.

Closing the cabinet, I shouted. “Girl, come here!”

Bailey’s barking came closer to me, whimpering as she rubbed her nose against my leg. Shouts and clattered shouting came from outside. And then an uproar of firing. Gunshots. My jaw dropped, and my blood ran cold. A shiver ran down my spine. Forcing myself to move, I ran, and Bailey’s footsteps followed behind me. I couldn’t focus on counting steps. They were shorter, and I was running instead of walking.

Bailey barked in warning again, but it was too late. My head smashed hard against my closed bedroom door. Rubbing my throbbing forehead, I choked out a breath and opened the door. I slammed the door and locked it shut.

I crouched low, adrenaline still rushing through me. My breaths came out in short little puffs. My forehead was still aching, and I was sure a bruise was forming on it. I crouched and searched for Bailey’s face with my unarmed hand.

Leaning my nose against her snout, I whispered, “Stay quiet, girl. If they break down the door, you attack. Bark if you understand.”

She barked, and my lips turned up in a broken smile.

“You’ve been a good companion in our short time together,” my voice cracked even though I didn’t want it to.

It wasn’t Miran outside, I was sure of it. There could only be two people outside. One that might kill me, my Papa, but the other… I shivered at the inevitable.

“Whatever happens, remember, thank you for serving me.”

I leaned down to kiss her on the head.

I stood to my full height, with Bailey at my feet, and my hand gripped the knife.

I could face this.

Miran might reach me in time.

I would stay hopeful.

I had to.

Hope was the only thing I had left right now.

I shut my eyes, listening as heavy footsteps invaded the house. The security system alarmed blared inside the house. Shouts ran outside, and commands of “Search the house!” echoed through the door. I stayed still, still waiting.

Shortly after, the alarm stopped.

My body tensed up at the banging at my door. My heartbeat rapidly increased, and I reached up with my free hand to wipe the sweat off my forehead. I gulped deeply, forcing myself to keep breathing. They were going to catch me soon, and fear poured out every single pore of mine. I ran a hand down my face, wiping the sweat. The banging intensified, filling my eardrums before the door burst open.

I stepped back, and Bailey barked viciously.

Her footsteps moved away from me.

“Fuck, crazy ass dog!” one said. “Get it the fuck off.”

I smiled. She’d lunged at them. I shut my eyes as I backed up. Tearing of flesh. Screams. Grunts. Too many voices. I only had a knife.

And then… a gunshot. Three shots fired.

Bailey whimpered, and my eyes flashed open at the heavy body weight that crashed onto the floor. Tears spilled my eyes, mourning the loss of one of my caretakers.

“Milaya.”

That voice. I hated that deep, roguish voice.

I snapped open my eyes and snarled, baring my teeth at the invaders as I backed up.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I held my head high as I stepped back.

“I haven’t,” I gritted out.

Then with all my strength, I flung my knife in his voice’s direction. I had a better chance this way. If he was too close, he could easily overpower me.

“Fuck!” a voice gurgled, “She hit my eye.”

A body collapsed onto the floor.

I would have been pleased if it was the correct eye.

It missed Sasha.

A whistle came in the air.

“I’m impressed, milaya. A month away, and you’ve turned into a fighter.” Sasha said, “You all check the parameters and wait outside. I’ll be out shortly.”

Footsteps retreated from me. His men were gone, now it was just us. My hands quivered now that they were weapon-free. If I could tell which man I’d hit, I could try recovering the weapon, but… I… couldn’t fucking see.

My eyes brimmed with water, and I exhaled slowly, backing up again. My back pressed against the wall with nowhere to go.

Sasha stayed quiet, and he didn’t say a single word. My eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape.

Bathroom.

I darted to my right, but footsteps rushed toward me and grabbed my arm just as I was about to push the bathroom door in. I snarled again and wildly slammed my hand around. Sasha winced when my hand landed on what felt like his neck, and I immediately clawed him.

“Shit, look at you, milaya,” he murmured.

He didn’t sound upset at all, instead, his voice reeked of appreciation. He can go take it and shove it somewhere. I whimpered against him when he gripped both of my arms with his hands. Bourbon. Leather. The smells that I hated were around me again. I wanted cedar.

“He touched you?” Sasha sneered.

I stopped fighting, and my body went limp.

His hand tilted my head to the right and roughly palmed the side of my neck. My still sore and sensitive skin. Bitemarks. Miran’s. Sasha pressed down harder against my skin, and the bruises came to life, throbbing uncomfortably.

“How dare he touch what was rightfully mine?”

I snickered, “I was never yours. I only gave myself to him!”

“You little dirty whore.”

He dropped a hand on my arm and gripped my throat. I gasped under him, and my hands went immediately to my throat, trying to push him off.

“Miran will kill y-you,” I choked out.

Sasha laughed bitterly.

“Your precious Chief is my captive.”

No. No. Tears rolled down my face, and I tried to shimmy out of his hold. He only pressed harder on the middle of my throat, suffocating me. I was losing air, and my head became light-headed. Sasha dropped his hold from my neck, and I gulped heavy breaths of air. My hand reached for my sore neck, and I winced at the pain exploding on impact.

“Why would you give yourself to him… but not me?”

My eyes flashed at his stupidity. “Miran cares about me.”

“You really think he’s that good? Do you know what happened to the man who touched you at the safehouse?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, and I stopped touching my neck. I’d assumed he was in jail. And how did Sasha know? Confusion filled my mind. He was trying to trick me into something, and I wouldn’t fall for it.

“Well, Walker is dead,” Sasha murmured. “Miran killed him.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and shook my head in disbelief.

“No, Miran is not like you,” I protested.

“Chris Walker was released,” Sasha continued.

My heart dropped. Miran never told me.

“And by the look on your face, he hid the truth from you. He tortured that man.”

A surprised gasp left my mouth.

“He hurt a man for merely just nicking you.” Bolts of shiver ran down my spine. “You see, Milaya, he is dangerous, just like me. He is exactly like me. He’s just better at hiding it.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, shaking my head again.

“I was going to take you with me and claim your virginity in front of him,” Sasha sneered.

I gulped deeply as I stepped back, and I hit a door.

“But now…. you’re used goods,” his voice was laced with disgust, “Might as well do a round here, then we’ll head back to Chief for round two, don’t you think?”

An hour earlier

Miran’s eyes opened to a throbbing forehead.

He winced at the bolts of pain that ran through his body. Blood was no longer trickling down his face, and it had dried. He didn’t know how long it had been. His eyes adjusted around the dark, empty room. He moved a hand, but a cry of pain left his lips, and his eyes fell on his broken hand.

They bound his wrists with rope against the metal bar. He gritted his teeth and tried to break free, but it was too tight. Leaning forward, his teeth landed on the rope. It would take a while, but he would break free soon.

Dread filled his heart that Sasha was on his way to Lada.

He groaned at her fate. He needed to hurry.

Hearing shouts and guns fire outside the door, he paused in chewing. A few moments later, the door burst open, filling the dark room with light. Miran’s eyes squinted, and he glanced away to shield his burning eyes.

His head jerked in place as he took the two tall vicious men in front of him dressed all in black, holding guns in their hands.

Alexander Nikolaev.

Vladimir Vitalli.

He did a double take on Vlad. His mind was still fuzzy, and he stared in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Now, he probably resembled a gaping fish. He closed his mouth shut and glanced at his cousin.

“You look fucked up.”

His head turned at Vlad’s edgy voice.

Miran smirked, even though it hurt his mouth.

“Thanks,” he replied dryly.

Alexander moved toward him and crouched below him. Miran would have been surprised if he was in a better mood. A Pakhan bowing was unheard of.

His cousin’s concerned dark eyes flew to his bleeding forehead and his broken hand. Clenching his jaw, he spoke, “Bratan.” Brother. He reached out a hand and touched the wound on Miran’s head. Miran flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Alexander paused and pulled his hand away.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Finally, you found me. Now get me out of here. I need to get to Lada right away. Sasha went after her.”

Vlad leaned down and dropped his gun to the side, helping Alexander free him.

Miran’s eyes met his gray ones.

“I'm surprised that you of all people came.”

Vlad avoided his eyes. “I care about Mamochka and Dahlia, not you. Never you.”

Miran hid a smile. “Right,” he tsk-tsked under his breath. Then he glanced down at Vlad’s gun, and he frowned. “Did you use your weapon?”

Vlad glanced up. “Alexander used his. I don’t see you questioning him.”

“He’s not the one with immunity.”

Vlad arched an eyebrow. “If I use it, does that means I no longer have my immunity?” His gaze dropped, and he focused on untying him.

“Did you?” Miran seethed out.

“No,” Vlad replied.

Miran sighed in relief.

He didn’t like the idea of Vlad using a gun again.

“I promised my wife I left that life. Although, I did beat a few men up.”

Vlad glanced up, and his eyes were softer and amused.

“Can we focus on untying him then we can have a lovely chat later?” Alexander said stonily.

They stayed silent now, quickly focusing again. A few moments later, Miran was free of the rope. His good hand touched his broken one. He tried to rise, and it took more effort. Sighing in frustration, he tried again, but then, Alexander and… Vlad placed their shoulders under him, lifting him. He was too startled and stared suspiciously at Vlad. Vlad only stared ahead.

Once he stood, he spoke.

“I’m heading home to Lada.”

“I’ll come with you,” Vlad replied.

Miran’s eyes jerked to him.

“No.”

Vlad frowned, and his eyes almost looked hurt. He quickly collected his composure before glaring at him.

“I can take care of it from here,” Miran continued, looking at them both. Then, to soften the blow, he turned back to Vlad and added, “I prefer you not using a gun.”

“Because I’ll lose my immunity?” Vlad asked dryly.

No. Miran stared at him for a few seconds. They were similar… but different too. It wasn’t Vlad’s fault he was born in the mob. He hadn’t chosen that life. But Miran had chosen the police force for himself. It might take years to build the real relationship they never had, replacing the broken relationship that they did have, but maybe… it was possible.

“Because you’re my brother, and I don’t want you around violence again.”

Startled, Vlad gave a wide-eyed stare. Under his breath, he replied, “I’m the older one. I give commands.”

Miran tried to stifle a smile, but it broke through his face. He winced, losing it immediately. Stupid bloody mouth.

“This much affection is sickening me,” Alexander said smoothly, “If you’re done having a moment, I’m going to leave.”

Alexander’s footsteps moved, and he glanced over his shoulder, focusing his dark eyes on Miran.

“I may have helped you this time, but… it does not change the fact that Adrian and his sons hate your guts. They want you dead, and you disobeyed my direct order. One day, my hand just might be forced. This isn’t over, Mir.”

He walked out, leaving Miran and Vlad behind.

❖

Once Vlad had left, and Miran promised him dinner, he headed to his cabin in the woods. Turning his siren on, he accelerated down the highway. It was nighttime, and the traffic had lessened. He kept glancing at the time every few minutes and drummed a hand against the steering wheel. His broken hand lay by his side. He would get it cast later, but first things first.

Lada.

Sasha had said he would bring her back to him, but he wasn’t sure of that anymore. Clenching his jaw, he couldn’t wait to find Sasha and tear him apart. He slammed the brakes and parked at a distance when his eyes fell on the two cars outside his cabin.

He counted four men. Not that many.

Reaching for the gun in his dashboard, he placed a silencer on it. Running a hand down his face, he crept outside the car and headed to them in slow movements. Every time he moved, the twigs beneath him crunched. He hoped they couldn’t see him. Holding a dreadful sigh, he forced himself to walk quietly.

The dark woods were a dangerous place in the shadowed night. Those who entered might not leave alive. Like these men who had invaded his land, his personal space, his world.

The greens had turned into browns. It was quiet. Only insects and birds roamed around the area. The morning singing had stopped, and cricket sounds lingered in the air. The nightlife was here. A story told in mud. Only the steady glow of the moonlight lurked upon him.

Using the trees to hide, he aimed at the man nearest to him with his left hand. His right hand was broken. The gun was strange and unfamiliar in his left. Wincing, he lifted his shaky, broken hand, and placed it underneath the gun, holding it steady.

Lada. For Lada.

He fired a kill shot for the man’s head.

One man down.

Startled, the other Vors looked around their surroundings, but they couldn’t see him. He aimed his gun again, shooting another.

Second man down.

The two remaining men ran nearby to the spot he hid in. He peeked out from the tree, and a bullet fizzled by. Alarmed, he ducked and fired again, hitting one man in the chest. With a groan, the third man went down.

The last one remaining hid behind a tree close to Miran and fired. Miran’s breath came out steadily as he waited it out. Then, he moved from the tree and fired at the last Vor, shooting him twice in the head.

Frantically, he rushed with heavy footsteps, twigs cracked under his boots as he moved. He was panting, and his mind was seeing stars again. Pausing for a second, he inhaled sharply and touched the back of his head injury. He might have a concussion, and he needed aid soon. But… first, he needed to reach the cabin.

He passed by the dead bodies of his cops.

The front door was open.

The alarm was off.

He wondered if there were more men inside?

Leaning against the house wall, he glanced inside. Coast clear. He held his breath and raced through the living room, every inch of him vigilant. His blood ran cold as he sprinted toward Lada’s room. No sign of Bailey either. Rage took over with every step he took. Feminine cries invaded his eardrums. He followed the screams.

Lada. My Lada.

God. No. Fuck, no! He ran inside, his jaw locked the whole time once he reached the end of the hallway. Almost there.

His failure hit him when he took in the sight, and he paused.

He never should have left her alone.

He never should have stepped outside the cabin.

Lada was on the ground, crawling back from Sasha. His pants were dropped halfway to his knees with his zipper opened.

Miran’s stomach turned to ice. Everything inside of him screamed for destruction. His fists balled, his fingers digging into his palms, drawing blood. Deadly intentions crawled through him to hurt. His fists clenched and unclenched, and his heart was crushed. His eyes fell on a crumpled Bailey on the floor.

Shot and dead.

Sasha’s shoulders tensed, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Did he… Miran’s eyes immediately went toward Lada’s dress. The sleeve of it was torn off, and his eyes zoomed in to her lower thighs. He looked away, refusing to think about anything yet. If he did, he would lose control.

Malice simmered through his blood, at the need to kill.

Approaching on silent feet, Miran raised his gun and fired at Sasha’s hand. The same hand that held a gun.

Screaming, Sasha dropped the gun, and Lada gasped. Miran still didn’t look at her. He focused his attention on Sasha’s hand with a gaping hole in it. Metallic blood poured out of the wound, splashing the clean, white carpet, permanently.

“Wait! Don’t kill me,” Sasha protested weakly, clutching his bloody hand.

Miran lowered his gun. He didn’t speak at all, not one word. Shoving the gun behind his back, he held his madness together and lethally stood in front of Sasha. He stared into those dark brown, frightened eyes.

Reaching his good hand forward with the full strength of his cruelty, he grabbed Sasha’s neck. His nails dug into Sasha’s throat, clenching his fingers deeper. Sasha’s body flung back, thrashing against him, trying to free himself of the noose of Miran’s hands.

Fueled, he pulled harder with both hands and unleashed his full madness. His broken fingers cracked under him again. With every movement, his hand throbbed aguishly. Clenching his jaw, he gave it his everything.

Sasha gurgled and grabbed Miran’s face with his own wounded hand, smearing his entire face. Miran tasted bitter blood on his lips, but he gripped harder, watching Sasha’s face turn purple before him. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the side of Sasha’s neck, adding pressure until blood poured out of his neck. Gurgling, Sasha’s mouth gurgled and dribbled blood, and his legs gave out before him.

Miran held on, the darkness in him revealing to the surface. His fingers found what they were looking for. The jugular. Grabbing the thick muscle, he tore it, not caring that it stained his hands and clothes with blood.

His breath wavered, and he glanced up, meeting Lada’s aimless eyes.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, and it was probably for the best. For once, he was glad that she wouldn’t have to witness a crime. From her devastated green gaze, he could tell her she knew what he was doing. He was unapologetically killing a man. And he would do it a thousand times again. Her eyes stayed in his direction, and he averted his gaze to Sasha.

Strangulation.

It wasn’t a method he’d ever used before. But he would protect Lada over everything else.

Blood smeared on Sasha’s neck, his eyes swollen, and the blood in his face slowly drained. After a few seconds, Sasha went slack in his arms, losing the fight.

It was done.

Adrenaline still tingled in Miran’s veins, and he dropped Sasha’s lifeless body. It fell on the ground with a thump.

Startled, Lada’s eyes followed the sound.

Quietly, Miran’s footsteps moved toward her and crouched before her. He still hadn’t said a single word. His chest burned, and he swallowed hard. He pressed his shaking hands to the carpet, staring at the dark crimson blood that consumed him. Sticky fluid drenched him, and his eyes blinked when he turned his hands back and forth.

His first kill in cold blood.

Lada shifted before him for the first time. Her small hands moving hesitantly, trying to find his face. He pulled his head back before impact, not wanting her to feel the blood under her clean hands. This was his mess and not hers to clean up.

“Miran?” Lada’s small voice called out.

He couldn’t focus on her, and his eyes fell to the ground. His stomach twisted. He’d gotten here too late. He’d failed her. It was like a dagger to his heart.

Sasha’s death wasn’t enough.

“I know it’s you,” her soft voice spoke. “Why are you so quiet?”

Dazed, he only stared at his hands.

“Sasha is dead.”

She wasn’t asking him, she was confirming.

Lada reached for him again aimlessly, but he sucked in a breath and pulled away. He wasn’t ready for her. His demeanor was cold, detached, shocked, and in disbelief.

A comatose would be nice right now.

“You’re distancing yourself from me,” her voice cracked. He hoped she wasn’t crying again. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled the breath he’d been holding in for so long, losing the tightness in his chest.

“Please, tell me,” she begged. “You got here in time. You stopped him. I’m fine.”

His head jerked up, and hope stirred in his dead heart. His eyes crawled over her body, searching for bruises. Her arms pinked, but the rest of her was unmarked from Sasha’s wickedness. But… his eyes fell on the purple bruise on her forehead. How did she get that? He drilled his gaze into that spot.

Lada reached for him again, and he shifted back again. Her innocence would be stained. He didn’t want her to be dirty like him.

She was pure. Uncorrupted. Moral.

She was better in every way.

“I have blood all over me. I’m not worthy of your touch,” he spoke at last.

He didn’t recognize the broken voice he spoke in.

Her hand paused in mid-air.

“I could have arrested him when I unarmed him, but I didn’t.”

She stayed silent, but her chin quivered.

He continued, “I’m a killer. I’m no better than the criminals I bring in.” His entire life, he avoided becoming them, just in the end, to be the same.

A sob broke through her lips, and her trembling made him ache, threatening to ruin him. Tears dripped down her beautiful face, and she reached for his face again. Tormented, he leaned back again, but this time she grabbed him with both of her trembling hands, pulling him close. Her little clean hands tainted in blood now. He hated that look on her. Her fingertips skimmed on his face, rubbing against his beard softly.

“I didn’t kill Chris Walker,” he admitted, “I hurt him, but I let him live… I wasn’t ready to take a life then, but now,” he looked into her eyes, “this time I was.”

“You are not evil. You could never be… When we come into this world, we’re born from blood,” she said softly. “Blood is a part of us. …” her voice cracked.

His pulse quickened, and his heart hummed at the sound of her sweet voice.

“You have always protected me, and you have always protected others. You fight for those you care about… even those who are strangers like I once was. There is a difference between those who kill for their own needs and those that kill for the needs of others. If that makes you a killer, then so be it. I love you anyway.”

Her lashes lifted, and a hint of a small smile touched her lips.

“I trust you more than anyone else in this world… because you’re my family now. No one else makes sense besides you. No matter what you do, you will always be the man who selflessly came to help me when I had no one. You will always be the man who looked at me with something more than disgust. There is so much of you in my heart already, and it’s impossible to get you out now. You accepted me, flaws and all, and I accept you, darkness and all.”

He exhaled a breath, and it landed on her lips. Some of the tension lessened in his soul, and he lifted her bottom with one hand and pulled her onto his lap. There were three dead bodies around him… but right now, all he saw was her.

“I love you,” he whispered.

One more truth revealed.

Her eyes filled with tears before they dripped down her face. She leaned in and rubbed her tiny nose against his face. She was probably aiming for his nose but ended up rubbing against his cheek. A small smile formed on his face for the first time today.

“I would risk everything for you, haven’t you realized how crazy I am for you?” he whispered against her lips.

Lada smiled sweetly.

“I do, and it’s okay because I’m crazy about you too.”

She wrapped her arms around him, engulfing him in a hug. A moment later, he tucked his chin within her shoulders, inhaling her sandalwood smell that he’d grown to love.

“You’re mine,” he murmured into her hair.

Lada hadn’t complained once about the blood on him. She hadn’t complained about what he’d done. She’d accepted him.

“You will always be my lubimyy,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. “I don’t need eyes to seewhat kind of man you are… and you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. My heart belongs to you. You’re my forever.”

She owned his heart as much as she owned his soul.

“Birtanem,” he murmured in Turkish.

My only one.

They stayed like this for some time.

The rest of the world fading away as they clung to each other.