Nikolai spat at the ground. “Get out of our way, or don’t blame me for extending my courtesy to you, Dad! Don’t squawk about disrespect by then!”
Mr. Lark’s eyes widened in lividity. “You dare lay your hands on your old man?! I'm still your goddamn Pa! You may have your harpy of a mother cheering you on for being a paragon of jacka**es, but don’t mistake that as authority to do anything you like, you insolent brat! Christ, you’re a carbon copy of your mother! I shouldn’t be surprised though, a child takes after the parent who raises them, after all, and right now, you’re an embarrassment and I wish you were never born!”
Nikolai clenched his teeth, his hateful eyes zeroing in on Melanie. In his mind, he had already equated every fault as her doing. One look at Nikolai’s face was enough to tell anyone that he wanted to tear her into pieces with his bare hands.
Finally, Melanie’s second eldest brother, Miklan, yanked his big brother by his shoulder. “Nikolai, snap out of it. This is your sister you’re looking at, man. Don’t scowl at her with that hideous demonic impression as if she’s your blood enemy. I mean, can we even blame her? Our real foes are the Wests and the Smiths, guys.”
Nikolai’s fury found a new target in Miklan, and he swung his brother’s hand away. “What the f**k? Trying to take on the nice guy act, seriously?! You’ve always been like this, Miklan, acting docile like a good puppy in front of dad! Lo and behold, you get your share of the family wealth, too, but look at where we are now, our f**king wealth is no more! Who are you trying to fool with that stupid act?!”
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