The Devil (BOOK I + II)

2 | "You Missed, Asshole"

   I strode to the door in baggy jeans and a long sleeve shirt before throwing it open.

   My back straightened instantly.

   On the other side of the door, Daemon stood, his steel grey eyes still cold as I remembered. His face, hard and frustrated.

   You are aggravating.

   He'd always told me that, but I never took offence. Realizing it now, he must have hated me, since I hadn't been an easy of a case as he wanted.

   Chelovek kotoryy nikogda ne promakhivayetsya.

   The assassin. The person who never misses. Rolie warned me before, but I never would have thought it would be him.

   Daemon, unsurprisingly, was wearing his black suit like nothing had changed. His hair was perfect. His face was perfect. Everything about him was fucking perfect. Except his personality.

   And instead of maybe seeming guilty for what he did to me, his jaw popped once before he spun forward, walking down the hall in a fast pace.

   "Let's go, Ms. Somov," Yasha, who I just realized was standing on my right, muttered.

   For now, I didn't argue, following Daemon with Yasha trailing behind me.

   None of us spoke for five minutes, until we stepped into the dining room. The room itself was huge, probably double the size of my bedroom. The floors were an orange colour with beige walls, and there was a large oak table in the middle of the room with a large chandelier hanging above.

    The table itself could easily fit thirty people, but instead, there was only six chairs. One on each end of the table, and two on either side.

   There were two large doors on the opposite side of me, which led to the kitchen that probably was almost the same size as this room.

   I held back a satisfied smirk when I turned back to the table and saw everyone seated. But since papa's back was to me, I couldn't see his expression.

   Micah, however, didn't waste time when I caught his glare. "Look who's finally joining us," he bit out, surprising me slightly, because he had been giving me the silent treatment.

   I already missed those days.

   I flashed him an innocent smile as I glided to the chair next to Vladik, which was also across from Lev. My younger brother, now fifteen, was avoiding my eyes, but I didn't miss him scowling at his empty plate in front of him.

   "Micah..." papa's grumbled voice sounded as if he was warning him not to continue.

   I grinned and plopped on the seat dramatically. And just like that, a group of people entered the dining room from the kitchen and moved to separate parts of the table, plates in hand.

   "No, go on, Micah. I'm so interested in what you have to say," I pretended to whisper whimsically as my elbows pressed against the cool table. I held my chin in my hands and watched his glare harden.

   His lips parted, but they smacked together before he clenched his jaw. I refused to do the same, because now I was annoyed.

   Fight me, Micah. I know you're dying to lay it all on me.

   And I'd laugh at you, just to be annoying.

   I muttered some cusses under my breath as I sat back, just as one of the cooks gently laid a plate of syrniki in front of me.

   With a soft smile, I thanked her before twisting my head back to my family, my eyes glazing through all of them slowly.

   Just as I remembered, Vladik, who was still avoiding my eyes, appeared just like papa. The same dark brown, wavy hair and Caribbean blue eyes that made it feel like you could swim in them.