The Bad Boy Calls Me Kitten

Chapter Twenty-Five

"So what now?" I flopped down on Sebastian's couch. We were back at Barnes & King Incorporated. With Sebastian gone, it felt strange. We never even found out if he really did plan to tattle like Scar had thought of. At least we had escape. That's all that mattered, right?"

"You can't go back home, Genevieve." he said quietly, taking a drink from the water bottle in his hands while eyeing me like I would attack him. Actually, after he mentioned that, I did feel like attacking him. After finally escaping, I had begun to think that my life would go back to normal. My father and Marie were probably already planning my funeral. They were good people, they didn't deserve all the stress I had been causing.

I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Scar scratched behind his ear. I noticed he was rubbing specifically at a small red patch of skin. He drank some more water and smiled. "Because I dragged you into this, your life is in just as much danger as mine. The Bratva knows I'm not alone. That is why I told you to not to come after me, Genevieve!" Scar shouted angrily. "Why are my directions so incomprehensible? Am I speaking a foreign language or something? Do not follow me, kitten. That's the last time I'll ever say it."

I was going to have a panic attack, I could feel it.

"What are we going to do about Bodgan then?"

"I don't plan on doing anything, kitten."

"And why the hell not?" I snapped.

"Because it's going to blow up." Scar interrupted.

"What is?" 

He smirked and leaned in. A blush crawled up my face. Even with all the things that had just happened, I was still more than nervous around him. Scar pecked my lips with a gentle kiss. It didn't go father than that, but he didn't move away either. His eyes were bright, excited.

There was a faint thunder in the distance. It sounded like an explosion.

"Oh, you didn't!"

"I did."

"Scar!"

"Oh come on, kitten. How could I resist? They should know better than to pack gunpowder in one room." He stood up. "It was like a walking invitation. But it won't solve our problem completely. That explosion took out just a small part. The Bratva location is about the size of Chicago, like a city under a city. The explosion will cave some tunnels. That gives us a day to get the hell out of here. We can't run forever but we can buy some time. Stay here, I'm going to pack some things for tonight."

Scar left with a final warning glance.

"What the hell has my life become?" I wondered aloud. There were dangerous people hunting for both of us, my family was going to murder me (if the Bratva didn't do the job first) and now Scar and I were on the run like a couple of fugitives. My life was supposed to be books and Doctor Who, not guns and bad boys.

Normal was a word I couldn't use anymore.

I hadn't even realized I was falling asleep until a noise woke me up from the sleepy stupor. With a small yelp, I straightened up on the couch. Scar would be back in a few minutes and then we would have to leave. A lump formed in my throat at the thought. Perhaps I would never see my father and Marie again. There was a reason Scar was so closed off from the world, and it was because the people he loved most got hurt because of him. Would I have to do the same? Leave everything I had ever known behind and start fresh? And for what? Because some foreign idiots wouldn't let go of a debt?

Maybe I was on my period, after all.

Knock. Knock.

"Come on." I whispered, clasping my hands to my face. A small headache began flowering through the back of my head. Footsteps entered the room and stopped. I raised my head, ready to admit to Scar that I wasn't going to go along with his insane run-away scheme. But it wasn't the handsome boy I had come to love, as I had thought. 

It was a man. As soon as I saw the gun clasped to his waist, I knew it was a Bratva man. He was wearing a light blue turtleneck with a heavy black leather jacket over top. His old face was gnarled and a twisted grin was visible through the wiry gray hairs of his beard. He was bald and Russian and one hundred percent dangerous.

If a hyena could scream, I would guess it would sound like me right there and then.

"Oh, God no!" He grabbed my arm and dragged me up. I wanted to cry, but the fear was too great. Where the hell was Scar when I needed him the most? "Listen, dude." Oh God, I just called my kidnapper dude. The man didn't seem to take negotiation very well as he began pulling me towards the door. "I'm on my period, okay? You don't want to mess with a girl who can bleed for seven days and not die- okay, I'm sorry!" I yelped as he raised his gun as a threat. 

Oh yeah, Genevieve. You can totally take him out with your five foot four figure against his six.

"Shut up!" The man warned as he continued taking me out the room.

"Okay, but can you please not-"

Out of nowhere, a fist came flying and hit me against my jaw. Pain shot through the tendrils and I gasped. I would have fallen if the man hadn't kept such a strong hold on my arm. Using the moment of utter pain I was in, he pulled me down the stairs and out the door. My fear only grew as I saw the black van he had waiting outside for me. Strangely enough, there was no other Bratva men around to help my kidnapper kidnap me. Something told me that this man was working alone. My fear only grew as he pushed me inside.

I would murder Scar if I wasn't dead by then.

"You think you can come into my territory without any consequence? Think again, child. Two stupid teenagers cannot take down the largest drug cartel and criminal organization in the world. You should have thought of that before you blew up the base and killed 23 of my men. Do not worry, your friend will join us in time to see you die." he said in a thick Russian accent.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

"You're Bogdan Khodkevich, aren't you?" my voice was high-pitched and restrained from fear. Bogdan smiled in response and slammed the van door so that I was left in darkness with nothing but the small window to the side and back left for light. Maybe I could start screaming for help. That is, if he didn't shoot me out of annoyance.

There was two things I was thinking of as Bogdan started the car.

One, I was very proud of myself for remembering the Russian name.

And two, I was well and truly fucked.