God of Vengeance

I didn’t expect to enter our home and hear my sister cry — but at the same time, it shouldn’t have been a surprising picture.
I always tried to rush back home as soon as the last bell rang in school, ignoring any friends who tried to talk or make plans for later.
With time, they knew better than to even approach me. The invitations grew fewer, and any conversations I had with them were clipped and superficial.

It was my last year in high school, and I didn’t mind skipping the nostalgic farewells with friends by the end of the year. By the way I’d been avoiding them, it wasn’t as if I’d have anyone left to say goodbye to, anyway.

Now, hearing my baby sister’s cry reminded me once again that I had no regrets — she was more important than any superficial friendship that would eventually fade the moment I left for Oxford.

“Pchelka? Hey, baby, where are you?”

The moment I entered her room, I saw her tiny feet sticking out from under her bed. She always hid there whenever she was scared and I wasn’t nearby.
It had always been her number one hiding place, and her little feet were always visible. Yet, whenever we played hide and seek, I’d pretend I didn’t see her.

“Ilya?”

She sniffled and hiccupped once, suppressing her wailing just enough to make sure it was me — that it was really me standing in the doorway.

“It’s me, baby. Come here,” I cooed gently, crouching next to the bed.

Slowly, she wiggled out, her teddy peeking out first to make sure it was safe before she fully emerged and stumbled into my arms, crashing against my chest with a soft thud.

“What happened?” I asked softly, stroking her brown hair in a soothing rhythm.

She was the exact copy of our father, with her auburn hair and green eyes. I took after our mother — light blond strands and piercing blue irises.

Just like our parents, we looked like complete opposites. But unlike them, we didn’t hate each other’s guts. In fact, she was the one constant that kept everything from falling apart.

My sister sobbed a few more times, her tiny breaths quick and uneven while I tried to calm her down. I slowly sat on the floor with her in my lap so she could feel more comfortable, her head tucked under my chin as I rocked her gently back and forth.

“Pchelka…” I whispered, softly urging her to speak.

Slowly, she lifted her teddy bear, showing me the ripped ear I hadn’t noticed when she peeked out from under the bed.
I sighed.
It wasn’t important to know who did it.
No one loved her in this house.
Except me.

My mother didn’t love her because she hadn’t given birth to her.
My father was an A-class asshole — and an even bigger cheater.
Though, could you really call him a cheater when both of them hated each other’s guts and never entered this marriage with any real promise of loyalty?

Unlike my father, my mother used protection when she fucked random men in her marital bed.

My dear old father didn’t care.
It was, in his words, a woman’s job to take care of any form of protection — and if they didn’t, it was a win-win, because “the world could always use another Vladislav Mikhailov.”
His words. Definitely not mine.

He sent money to the few bastard children he had and only took Polina in because her mother died during childbirth. For some reason, he didn’t want to give her up for adoption.

My mother’s theory was that he wanted to make her life hell.

My theory? There’s a much bigger secret behind it.
Vladislav most definitely didn’t bring her home out of the goodness of his non-existent heart.
And though he despised his wife’s very presence, seeing his bastard child running around the house must have been its own kind of punishment.

I loved Polina the moment she arrived.

One of Father’s men handed her over to a housemaid — that was all the welcome she got. My mother didn’t even see her until a week later, when she heard the crying echo through the hallway and burst into the nursery just to yell at the maid to make her stop.

From that day on, I slept next to her. I’d sneak into her crib every night, just to help her sleep calmer.

She was petite and fragile, with something so soft and light about her that it made me ache to protect her.

We were both hated in this house — she more than me — but we had each other. And that, somehow, made it bearable.

My mother ignored me most of the time throughout my childhood — until I hit puberty. I learned not to linger around her too much, knowing my face irritated her since my features looked too much like my fathers.
Funnily enough, my father saw my mother in my blond hair and blue eyes, so he hated me for that too.

It was almost ironic — how the two most disgusting people on this planet, who’d probably love nothing more than to kill each other, somehow made a baby.
They were probably high.
No — they most definitely were on drugs.

They needed an heir for the Mikhailov family to continue the legacy, which was the only reason my mother and father married in the first place.

My grandfather had chosen her for him to secure business ties. It was hate at first sight.

Polina’s little hiccup pulled me back to the floor in her room, where I silently took her bear and helped her climb into my lap before standing up with her on my hip.
It wasn’t the first time her teddy had endured some injuries, so I always kept a sewing kit nearby.

She was quiet, except for the little sniffles and hiccups that occasionally escaped her tiny frame. She buried her head in my chest, waiting patiently for me to fix her toy.

There was no celebration after it was done.
No thank you, no little smile — because she knew I couldn’t sew back her heart, the one that had been broken too many times already.

I opened my eyes slowly.
These kinds of memories weren’t rare, so they didn’t startle me anymore. They were my wake-up call. My alarm.

It wasn’t unusual for me to dream of Polina — in fact, she visited me in my dreams more often than not.

I was still debating whether I’d rather have her not cry in my dreams or not see her at all.
Whenever I had a calm night, I woke up missing her like crazy, almost smelling that sweet cotton candy scent that lingered on her skin because she used to sneak into the kitchen and steal some.

Those days felt almost as empty and hollow as the ones before she came into our family — empty, with no warmth or love inside our home.

When she arrived, she brought light and life into those cold, grey walls — so when that light was suddenly ripped away, it was pure hell.

A knock made me glance toward the door.
For a second, I thought about ignoring it, but eventually, I sighed and stood up, not bothering to put on a shirt.

When I opened the door, a very purple Annika Volkov was blinking up at me.

“Ilya,” she said, smiling brightly, her eyes sparkling as if nothing in the world could ever touch her.

I straightened when the sharp echo of high heels cut through the corridor — the very blonde ice princess I’d been ignoring for weeks now passed us like a storm wrapped in perfume.

I kept my eyes on the little Volkov, forcing a polite smile that probably looked more like a tortured grimace.

“Miss Annika. Is everything alright?”

She nodded happily, her curls bouncing.

“Can I come inside, please?”

I heard the heels quiet down the moment they turned around the corner.
She was listening.

“Of course.”

I stepped back and let the little girl inside, refusing to look up — refusing to meet those angry blue eyes that I could already feel burning into me from the corridor.

She was nothing.
So I needed to keep treating her like nothing.

And it had worked perfectly fine these past few weeks.

I avoided her the best I could — never looked in her direction, always left the room or created distance whenever she entered.

She did the same.
After the last time she called me a dog during her little moment in the hallway, she didn’t even bother finding another situation to insult me.

But I knew she was watching.

I could feel her gaze whenever she thought I wasn’t paying attention.

She’d talk to the guards near me — her voice soft, playful, almost flirtatious — trying to pull information from them that was clearly forbidden to her.

Normally, I’d interfere and tell her to fuck off.
But instead, I stayed quiet.

Her provocation never triggered me.

…Okay. That was a lie.

It did.

For fuck’s sake, it did — every damn time she wore those skimpy dresses around me, fluttering her lashes at the guards to get what she wanted.

Once, one of the guards got weak. And I immediately went to Jeremy.

Needless to say, that guard is no longer here.

And I am never going to admit that I might — or might not — have beaten him up as a goodbye for daring to flirt with the Sokolov princess.

“My brother said you’d be available.”

I closed the door, turning toward her slowly.
“Available for what?”

A small meow caught my attention. From inside Annika’s big purple bag, a tiny kitten peeked out, her head tilting like she was waiting for her cue to speak.

I blinked, staring.

“You need to babysit Tiger,” Annika announced, completely serious. “Nikolai threatened to kill him if he wakes him up from his suicidal pool-naps again.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though I could hear the worry buried beneath her teasing tone.

“I need to talk with your brother fi—”

“Jeremy knows,” she interrupted quickly.

She flashed me a bright grin, but I kept my expression flat, unimpressed.
She blinked. I didn’t.

And then she sighed, deflating.
“Fine. He may not know yet. But I promise you, he’ll be fine with it.”

“Fine with what?”

The voice reached us before the door even opened — deep, sharp, already irritated. Jeremy stepped inside, his face set in a grim expression, like he’d sensed Annika’s presence from a mile away and hadn’t liked it one bit.

“What are you doing here with Ilya, Anoushka?”

“Jeremy~” She sang his name softly, stretching it out in that sweet little sister tone she always used when she wanted something.

Actually, she always spoke softer when talking to her brother.

I could distinguish that kind of tone easily — because that’s exactly how Polina used to talk to me.

“Annika,” Jeremy scolded, glaring daggers at me.
What was going on?

Annika pouted, lifting her kitten up to his face. Jeremy stepped back, blinking, utterly confused.
“What is that?”

“Who! This is Tiger, my kitten,” she said proudly.

“Where did you get this?”

She hesitated, then answered quickly.
“From work. No one was adopting him — so I took him!”

There was clearly something she wasn’t telling.

Jeremy crossed his arms in front of his chest, his tense posture slowly melting into something more cautious.
“So?”

“So, I was asking Ilya to babysit him because your best friend threatened to kill him if he interrupted his naps again.”

Annika looked at him with a face that clearly said, you know he would.
Jeremy met her gaze, sighed, and answered with a look that said, yes, he actually would.

But he still said aloud,
“Ilya is my personal guard, Anoushka, not your kitten-sitter.”

She pouted.
Annika Volkov always tried to appear mature and grown in front of Jeremy — except when she used her charm to get something from him.
Generally, she tried to act independent, especially now with that new girl squad from the rival school she had started hanging out with.

But apparently, this kitten was worth looking like his brother’s little baby sister.

“Jeremy, please! Just for today,” she pleaded.

“Where are you even going?”

“University?! And then the rescue center. I’m not even seeing the girls today! Well… except Cecy.”

Jeremy’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of the silver-haired British girl. It was subtle, but I caught the recognition and intrigue in his eyes.

“Be back quick.”

“Depends on your drivers,” she mumbled, carefully aware that she was under watch and accompanied by Jeremy’s men.

Jeremy only agreed because he’d know where Cecily would be during that time. He’d be with Annika and therefore safe… for now.
Though, his stalking tendencies were less about her safety and more about something entirely different.

“Be on time.”

I blinked. It only then dawned on me that I was seriously going to stay home and babysit a fucking cat.

“You seriously don’t need me today?”

Annika squealed, pressing a big smooch on her brother’s cheek before shoving the kitten into my arms. The little thing immediately started clawing at my bare chest, leaving faint red marks.

“Thank you, thank you!” she chirped, before rushing out immediately, giving no room for discussion.

I held the small animal away from my chest, raising an eyebrow at my boss.

“The moment she picks that up, find me. I’ll send you the location,” he said.

That was all. Before leaving, I gently placed the cat on my bed, then followed him to the door to close it.
Only to see a blond head peeking around the corner.

Now it was clear why Jeremy had suddenly appeared in my room, and why he had looked so suspicious.

I couldn’t say I was mad at Annika for leaving me at home with the little bundle of fur curling on my torso, fast asleep.

Polina had used to have a bunny — before my mother accidentally ran it over.
I told my sister that the bunny had taken a job as the Easter Bunny to make other kids happy, and after crying for a few hours, she said she was proud of him but that she would miss him.

I may have mixed a little of the bunny’s shit into my mother’s breakfast that morning.

So, I knew one or two things about animals.
I used to watch over Polina and her little bunny constantly. She had called it Lola, like Bugs Bunny’s girlfriend, because she found her so pretty.

After last night’s dream, I was more than glad to stay home and do nothing.

Though I usually preferred a day full of schedules to keep myself distracted, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had an afternoon that didn’t involve guns, violence, and forests.

Truth be told, I wasn’t a big fan of the mindfuck in my head — the distracting memories, blurred voices, and violent whispers.
But maybe I was a masochist, indulging in the pain just for a moment instead of running from it, like I usually did.

Tiger purred when I rubbed his head between his ears. He was an easy kitten.
He played with my sock for almost an hour, ran after cartridge cases I threw across the room, and tried to catch the laces of my joggers, until he finally passed out on the floor, on his back, paws sprawled in all directions.

I took mercy on him, scooping him up into my arms. He’d been sleeping on my stomach ever since, like it was the only place he knew.

I brought my phone back to my face, intending to scroll through Instagram to distract myself — when both mine and Tiger’s ears perked up at the sound of heels coming to a halt outside my door.

I tried to ignore it, but the little kitten stirred in my lap and strutted toward the door, as if he knew exactly who was standing there.

Maybe it was Annika… and maybe she had come earlier.

I sighed. I knew I was lying to myself.
a) Annika’s walk didn’t sound like this. (What? As a personal guard, distinguishing footsteps was part of my skill set.)
b) She’d knock — she wouldn’t wait for any life signs behind the door.

When I came closer, I paused.
I gave the person on the other side the chance to leave. But the slight shuffle made it clear: someone was leaning against the door, listening.

I picked up Tiger, letting him nestle against my chest, and opened the door with a monotone face, fully expecting Maya Sokolov to fall into my room.

I stepped back, looking down at her miserable little self, and crouched next to her head, Tiger meowing against my chest.

“This is embarrassing,” I commented, trying not to look down her skimpy dress, which rode up to her ass.

She squealed and tried to hurry away, but stumbled slightly, crashing against me. Tiger jumped at the sudden collision and dug his claws into my chest. I hissed, letting him go immediately.

My other hand grabbed Maya by the neck and pulled her back, like she was some kind of leech.

“What the hell,” I growled, staring down into her irritating blue eyes.

With a hidden fascination, I watched her cheeks bloom the color of Sakura flowers in spring — such a stark contrast to her icy personality.
I blinked. Exteriorly stoic. Internally… surprised at the open display of emotion.

She looked at me for a second like I’d hung the stars in the sky just for her, before rebuilding her icy façade and slapping my chest to make me release her.

“Let go of me, you distasteful dog!” she snapped, instantly fixing her hair and adjusting her dress.

“Who’s a dog,” I muttered, “when you were on all fours in front of me?”

The red hue on her cheeks deepened.
I knew I should stop right there… but I didn’t.
Something came over me as I leaned down, whispering into her ear, “Was that an invitation?”

Then the most insane thing happened — and I didn’t regret saying it one bit.

Maya Sokolov stuttered.

“S-Shut your filthy mouth, you disgusting peasant! Who do you think you are?”
She huffed, glancing around the room until her eyes landed on my bare chest — desire she clearly failed to hide.

Fuck.

Her stare heated as she noticed the red lines left by Annika’s kitten.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d be the kind to… fuck your boss’ sister, Levitsky.”

I followed her gaze, lightly stroking the lines, watching her gulp.
Of course, she’d jump to conclusions based on what she saw and wanted to think — but I neither denied nor confirmed anything.

Instead, I leaned closer, making her breath hitch — only to grab the door and fling it wider for her.

“Leave.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, the audacity written all over her face, when suddenly Nikolai’s voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife.

“THIS FUCKING LITTLE SQUIRREL IS GOING TO DIE TODAY!”

A loud, high‑pitched kitten scream echoed as Tiger bolted back into the room, eyes wide and looking at me with a single, pleading look: Hide me. HIDE ME!

Maya squealed when she saw the little animal and flung her arms around me, almost burying herself against my chest as if the cat were a disease she tried to avoid at all cost. She whined through it, frantic and breathless — a flurry of limbs and fabric trying to avoid the slowly calming down kitten.

Footsteps stomped closer, and I knew we were fucked if Nikolai opened the door like that. Without thinking long, I scooped Maya up in one movement; she wrapped her legs around me with a natural flair. I shoved Tiger with my foot further into the room and slammed the door shut behind us, the latch catching with a satisfying click.

Seconds later, frantic banging shook the wood as Nikolai’s voice cut through like gravel. His sour mood from being woken up radiated through the door.

“Levitsky! Fucking open the door!”

Maya pressed herself into me, gasping when her head bumped the door. She huffed a quick groan that turned into a small moan when the collision hit a sore spot. I covered her mouth with my palm to muffle the sound and keep Nikolai from hearing, hating the stupid little thrill that pricked along my gut.

“Fuck, Levitsky.” We heard shuffling and a curse as Nikolai leaned into the other side, his voice closer now.

“Are you fucking?” he barked.

A devilish idea sparked. I tilted Maya’s face toward the door, my fingers tight on her jaw, and nudged her head deliberately against the wood in perfect sync with her muffled noises — an absurd pantomime of improvised intimacy meant to sell the story. She slapped my chest angrily and shot me with a look equal parts furious and delighted.

I couldn’t help the crooked smirk that pulled at my mouth. The whole thing felt like a tightrope walk: one wrong step and the door would open, but for now, this flimsy slab of wood was our lifeline. And if Nikolai respected anything, it was noise that sounded convincingly intimate. He didn’t need to know the noises were half‑theatrical. And half- whatever...

My hand wrapped around Maya's throat and pulled her back to bang her against the door again, her voice now clear when she moaned with a hiss.

I watched with fascination as her glare intensified and made way to a mischievous sparkle. She grabbed onto my arms and matched my movement, pressing her hip against mine and rolling into me, her breath hitching in an exaggerated rhythm. She grabbed a fistful of my collar and tugged — sharp, angry, and absolute consent in the way she pulled me down toward her. A low, surprised growl escaped me, more amusement than anger this time even though she put me in this life or death situation in the first place.

Refusing to let her enjoy this, I tightened the grip around her throat, only to bang her skull against the door again. She responded by pulling the hair on the back of my neck, making me hiss loudly.

I looked at Maya with hooded eyes and watched the color rise to her high cheeks — a sudden, soft blossom against her usual marble face — when she rolled her hips again. This time slowly. Deliberately. Knowingly. The movement called something up in me; I answered with a shallow, deliberate thrust, feeling the heat through the thin fabric between us.

The ice princess bit down on her lip and, for the first time, she let herself be more daring. She pushed back with equal force, a silent challenge that made the air between us snap.

“Shit, Levitsky. You’ve got to do better,” Nikolai judged from the other side of the door, the man’s voice finally stepping back a pace. He’d heard enough; now he was content to taunt.

“I’m kinda busy, Nikolai,” I groaned, grinding into the moment, aware of how close she was and how raw the space between us had become. I could feel the pulse beneath her panties; she could feel the outline of me through my pants. It was a ridiculous, intoxicating closeness.

“I bet the pussy you’re currently ‘working on’ would disagree,” he mocked, making both Maya and me flinch at the vulgarity of his words. Hearing her brother talk about her like that felt… wrong to say it nicely.

My hand slid down her back to grab her ass, possessive and shameless, hauling her in tighter. She retaliated by yanking my hair again — a sharp, delicious sting that made me grunt and lean in even closer.

“Nikolai—” I hissed between teeth and breath, but there was a laugh threaded through it.

“Yes, yes, whatever. Don’t bore her like you bored me,” he muttered, the tone half-banter, half-order, then the sound of his boots turned away and faded down the hall.

The moment the footsteps receded, I let go like I was finally able to let of fire but then caught her as she almost toppled, the fall more theatrical than dangerous. She steadied herself, face flushed, chest heaving. For a second she looked like she wanted to strike me, then laugh, then bite me — simultaneously furious and thrilled.

“There will be consequences for this,” she warned, scanning the floor as if scolding would make the heat between us disappear. Then her gaze snagged on Tiger curled up on the bed, and a tiny, disbelieving smile flickered across her mouth.

“Leave, Sokolov,” I said, trying to sound stern. My voice came out low and strained with something that wasn’t quite anger.

“Screw you, Levitsky!” she shot back, but the words lacked venom now. Instead, she tried to regain control by taunting me: “Oh, wait — you love to screw the sisters of the people you’re working f-“

Her sentence ended on a choke, when my hand wrapped suddenly around her throat, squeezing so hard, she tried to claw my arm so I’d let her free.

“I-Ily-“ she gasped but I tightened my hold, blinded by rage.

“You better shut your fucking mouth before I stuff it with my cock, Sokolov. I’m done hearing your nonsense!”

Her head turned red, and when tears started streaming down her cheeks, it invoked a beast in my chest that I hadn’t known before—a kind of beast that clashed with the others in my head.

I loosened my grip just enough for her to take a sharp, angry breath.

“You wish,” she panted. I didn’t know whether to be fascinated or appalled by her stupidity, but she clearly wanted the answer.

“I’m not second-fiddle to Jeremy’s purple-covered sister!” she spat.

I raised an eyebrow. For once, Maya Sokolov surprised me — beneath the pretension she had teeth.

My other hand clamped around her jaw, forcing her mouth open when she tried to vehemently keep it closed. She was fighting, and the beast inside me roared in delight.

I pushed her down by her throat until her knees touched the ground. I let go of her throat, only to grab her hair in a ponytail and pull her head back, pushing two fingers into her mouth and hissing when she clamped down.

I pushed my fingers further until she gagged

“You’ll learn to shut up, printsessa.”
Her eyes widened and for a second I saw fear and something like exhilaration flicker across her face.

I leaned down, our noses almost touching, the threat low and controlled.

“No. Fucking. Teeth.”