Awakening

by Lee Savino

  AJ lost all interest in Cora as he narrowed his eyes at Marcus. “That’s right. A bunch of riffraff showed up. Didn’t like the way the neighborhood was going.”

  “A bunch of your friends moved out at the same time, as I recall. One particular family with two brothers.”

  “Used to have three brothers.” AJ’s eyes glittered with anger, but he controlled it like Marcus. He stuck the cigar in the side of his mouth and spoke around it. “Actually only two moved to Metropolis.”

  “Ah yes,” Marcus’s voice held a note of cool satisfaction. “One of the three disappeared during his time here. The one with a twin—what were their names?”

  “Karl and Alexander.” AJ puffed angrily.

  “Karl and Alex. Forgive me, I always get them mixed up.” Marcus chuckled. “I don’t even remember which one disappeared.”

  “Karl. Missing, presumed dead.”

  Dear gods, they were talking about her father. Like she wasn’t even here. Like she had nothing at stake in the conversation.

  AJ had forgotten his cigar for the moment and Cora stared at its lengthening ash. AJ snatched it out of his mouth. “His brothers Alexander and Ivan send their regards.”

  Marcus’s face split into a scary smile. “He does? How considerate. His widow, too, I assume? How is Demi? Our last meeting was far too short. And you’re such a good little errand boy—tell me, when the brothers sent you to spy on me, did they also tell you to bring me my take of your little club? Because that would definitely soften me up. Probably not enough to let my control of the city slip, but your time in exile hasn’t made you any smarter.”

  The mobster flushed so red Cora wondered if he’d explode with anger. The room was empty except for the Ubelis, Hype, and AJ with his two thugs. Cora felt nervous watching the showdown, but Marcus seemed as calm and in control as ever, so she took her cues from him. She was sure her husband’s men were just outside the room.

  In the meantime, AJ had gotten himself under control as well. “What, I deliver a musician to you, a show that everyone in the nation is dying for, and I give him to you, in an exclusive two week run—and this is how you repay me?” He forced a laugh as if he’d heard a weak attempt at a joke. “You accuse me of spying, of plotting? Marcus, I knew you when you were a boy! I knew your father.”

  “Don’t mention my father in my presence again,” Marcus snapped. The two thugs behind AJ shifted and pressed their hands against their weapons as if Marcus’s words were actual weapons pointed at them.

  Cora held herself perfectly still, recognizing the tension in the room. For a long moment everyone waited for the Lord of the Underworld to break the silence.

  “Your bosses have a long memory. So do I,” Marcus said softly. “This is my city. I own it. My power is still absolute. You can take that message back.”

  “I’m here to protect my investment. I’m not leaving—” AJ sputtered.

  Marcus held up a hand and AJ fell silent. Marcus spoke in a low voice, but everyone in the room felt its menace.

  “I respect the deal we made. You can stay in my city for two weeks. But once The Orphan is gone, you will no longer be welcome in New Olympus.”

  AJ licked his lips, his hatred for Marcus plain on his face.

  “Make your arrangements, AJ,” Marcus commanded. “Two weeks and you’re out.” Marcus started for the door with Cora still on his arm. He guided her forward then looked back over his shoulder at his enemy. “And your club still owes me tribute.”

  Hype was at the door, opening it for them. Cora and Marcus swept out and Hype followed them, unnaturally quiet. Cora didn’t know what to think, but her legs felt a little weak from the entire confrontation.

  Outside in the hall, Sharo stood with a knot of black-clad Shades, awaiting their leader.

  “You hear that?” Marcus asked Sharo.

  The large man nodded. “Two weeks and then kick him out. That really how we’re gonna play it?”

  “Let him look around before he reports back to Metropolis. Then he can tell Demi and the brothers we’re not afraid of them.”

  “You sure they’re behind this?” Sharo asked quietly.

  Cora was surprised they were talking so freely in front of her but she was glad, too. She’d been relying on whispers and snatches of conversations she overheard here and there to know what was happening in the war between her family’s criminal dynasty and Marcus’s.

  “It hasn’t been so long that they’ve forgotten what it was like to rule.” Marcus jerked his head at the Shades. “Get in there and check on him.”

  The soldiers immediately left the hall for the green room, to watch over AJ. “The Orphan is a Trojan horse. To get our guard down while AJ looks around. But if we move too early, we’ll look nervous. We can’t afford to look weak.”

  “Better play this perfectly,” Sharo murmured in a voice deep as a grave. “We’ve managed to keep it to a few skirmishes between us and the Titans so far. But if this goes bad, it means war.” The big man turned and stalked away, pictures on the wall trembling in his wake.

  Cora finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “You okay?” Marcus turned to her. “You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he murmured.

  She was confused when he held her close for a moment, rubbing a soothing hand up her back. Did he mean she shouldn’t have had to see it because he was sorry that it might upset her hearing about the ongoing fight between him and her family? Or that she shouldn’t have seen it because he didn’t think it was any of her business?

  “I’m alright.”

  “I made you late for the concert.” He looked concerned and in his arms, Cora felt all her tension drain away. She was tempted, so tempted, to pretend that Marcus was just a handsome businessman who owned a nightclub and concert hall, and she was his wife. To pretend they were a normal couple.

  But she was done with all that. She’d glimpsed real love a moment before, on Christopher and Iris’s faces. When Marcus gazed at her fondly, she was a beautiful possession. A toy he didn’t have to share. It hurt so much, knowing real love wasn’t something she could have. Not love like Chris and Iris shared—sweet and fragile and innocent. Marcus didn’t understand that sort of sentiment, and if she tried to explain it, he would laugh at her.

  She pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest.

  A small frown furrowed Marcus’s brow but he only said, “Hype will get you to your private box. I’ll be there for the second half, after I finish talking to some people.”

  He didn’t wait for a response before handing her over to Hype and leaving in a square of bodyguards. And he didn’t look back even once.

  Three

  Cora sat in the beautiful box, looking down on the polished wood floor of the stage, waiting for The Orphan’s New Olympus debut.

  She glanced over at the empty box seat beside her. For a second, she wished Marcus were here with her to see the entire show. But then she shook her head at herself.

  It’s better this way. Marcus might eventually show, but this was not a date. They weren’t that kind of couple and Cora needed every reminder she could get if she was going to get over her ridiculous infatuation with her own husband.

  She was distracted from her thoughts as The Orphan came on stage. The crowd immediately started going insane.

  Security strained to hold them back from the stage. The Orphan had only just walked out, but already the front of the stage had a mound of roses and lacy underthings.

  The Orphan sat on the stool provided, much like his posture backstage. He leaned forward towards the mic. The stage went dark except for a single spotlight shining down over his head.

  “This is for Iris,” he said in his raspy voice, and the fans started crying out in ecstasy. Cora watched one faint, falling against a security guard who struggled to keep a barrier between the pressing fans and the stage.

  Then The Orphan started playing.

  And Cora forgot about everything. The concert hall, her complic
ated relationship with Marcus, even the intermittent cries of fans.

  The music.

  His voice.

  It was haunting, full of such longing and…love.

  He held nothing back. He ripped himself open, right there on the stage for all to see and share. But no, it wasn’t for everyone. He didn’t look out over the crowd like normal singers did.

  It was for her. Iris. Every time he looked up, his eyes focused only on one place, and Cora knew it must be where Iris was sitting.

  When he sang about stars in her hair and how she was melody made flesh and how Cupid’s arrow had pierced his blood and bones—

  Cora held herself still even as tears poured down her cheeks. Her body was alive with goosebumps but it was so much more than that. His music transported. It was ecstatic. Transcendent. Soul-shattering.

  And it didn’t stop until the last guitar chord was struck.

  Cora inhaled on a sob, her fingers clenched on the railing, the echo of his voice still ringing through the club.

  And then reality crashed down.

  The fans, mostly women, were screaming their pleasure. The noise was painful, piercing, and yet Cora still couldn’t hear anything but The Orphan’s last song ringing in her ears.

  And if you die before I wake,

  I’ll give my soul; it’s theirs to take,

  I’ll come up to the river gates,

  I’ll come and sing the gods to sleep,

  And steal you home for keeps.

  Forever mine.

  Forever love.

  Forever.

  Cora sat back with a sigh, feeling as tense and coiled as a guitar string. She wasn’t sure she be able to stand if she tried.

  The Orphan didn’t move from his spot in the center of the stage. He looked perfectly ordinary again.

  Until he began playing the encore. Then he transformed again somehow. It was as if his voice transported around the place, making him seem larger than the simply dressed man standing before them.

  His voice promised things and caressed the words of the songs. With every passing minute the energy in the room grew higher and higher, until the aching need was a tension no one could ignore.

  He finished up another song and the women went mad again. Cora watched one of them start to climb and claw at a security guard, desperate to get on stage.

  “I love you,” she was screaming. “Please, I need you.”

  Disturbed, Cora stood up. Her heartbeat was racing. She excused herself past the few of Marcus’s associates who shared the box. If they thought anything of her tear-stained face and ruined make-up, they were wise enough not to stare. Her bodyguards were parked in the back, also mesmerized by the song. She slipped past them into the hall.

  In the bathroom, Cora breathed deeply, finally letting herself sob outright. The music ran like a current through her and she thought again of how Chris and Iris had looked at one another backstage.

  His music was love personified. Every chord he played, every word he’s sang…

  Why couldn’t Marcus love her back?

  Love her even a tenth of that?

  Again she lost her breath because she couldn’t believe she’d just admitted it, even in the quiet of her mind. Oh gods, but it was all she wanted.

  Still. Still, all she wanted was for Marcus to love her back.

  He could drape her in all the diamonds from all the world and give her power and freedom and position and a million spa trips—none of it mattered. None of it was what she truly wanted.

  All she wanted was the simplest gift. But it was the one that Marcus would never give.

  His love.

  “Stupid girl,” Cora said to her reflection, shuddering with emotion. She hadn’t learned a damned thing in all this time.

  Marcus used her. Maybe he was nicer to her now than he’d first intended or envisioned. And after saving his life, maybe he felt a little bit indebted to her. But she was still just another cog in the machine of his business. A pretty face for the press.

  Only in the privacy of their penthouse did she even get a glimpse of the man behind the mask but she was probably just deluding herself about that, too. What she pretended to herself was intimacy was likely him just using her to meet another of his needs.

  He used to fuck that horrible Lucinda woman on the regular, but now Cora was more convenient. She was already always around, so he fucked her instead. But gods, she didn’t even know if he was faithful. They’d never made any promises of the sort to one another. And the way he always kept her apart from himself…

  He never let her in and he never intended to.

  She dropped her head in defeat and for once, allowed the grief in. It was like a death, finally abandoning her hope of ever being loved back.

  Long minutes later, she shook her head and looked up at her face in the mirror. Ugh, she was a mess. She couldn’t let anybody see her like this. It felt more important than ever to learn the game of pretending to be fine even though nothing was.

  She began the arduous process of using endless scraps of tissue to clean up her mascara and was just finishing up when—

  One of the stall doors banged open.

  What the—? Cora jumped. She hadn’t realized there was anyone else in the bathroom. Had they been in the stall the whole time she’d been having her meltdown?

  “Hello?” Cora called out, stepping around the corner.

  A figure was slumped on the floor just inside the furthest stall.

  Cora gasped and ran forward. “Are you okay?”

  When there wasn’t any response, she moved the door slightly so she could see.

  Inside the stall, half sprawled in front of the toilet seat, was a woman. Her dress was black and red, and her long, wicked looking nails were painted to match. It was Ashley, AJ’s girl from earlier.

  “Oh my—” Cora whispered.

  Feeling sick, Cora kneeled down to look at the woman’s face. Under the mess of hair, the muscles were slack. Her eyes were open, staring, glazed. She wasn’t moving.

  Someone in the hall knocked sharply on the door and Cora jumped. Suddenly every detail seemed sharper, clearer. She saw the needle lying on the floor beside the woman’s arm.

  “Everything ok in there?”

  “Sharo,” Cora cried out, recognizing the voice. “Help…please.”

  Seconds later the underboss barged through the door. Cora still crouched, frozen, next to the stall door.

  “She’s not moving,” Cora whimpered. She backed away as the big man approached.

  Sharo peered inside the stall and uttered one sharp curse. “Did you touch her?”

  “No.” Cora couldn’t stop staring at Ashley’s face. The vacant eyes seemed to follow her, accusing.

  Then Sharo stepped in front of Cora, blocking her view. “We need to go.” He rumbled, and took her arm. His large body pressed forward, herding her bodily toward the door.

  “Wait— What about her—? Is she—?”

  “She’s dead,” Sharo growled and guided Cora firmly out of the bathroom and down the hall. Cora stumbled a little on shaky heels and Sharo almost picked her up, righting her while still moving. “And you can’t be seen in there.”

  A crackle came over Sharo’s earpiece and Cora knew he was no longer listening to her. “I’ve got Mrs. Ubeli. South bathrooms. Yes, sir. Right away.”

  “What?” she asked. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?

  “The fans rushed the stage and the green room. The Orphan barely made it out. I’ve got to get you out of here, now.”

  Four

  “What the hell were you thinking wandering away all alone in a crowd like that?” Marcus had managed to hold his tongue until they got back to the penthouse but not for a moment longer.

  He’d been dealing with cleanup from the mobbing incident on the car ride back anyway—one woman had been injured in the stampede and when The Orphan caught wind of it, he said he refused to play any more gigs. Thane and Hype were freaking out about it.<
br />
  But right now Marcus couldn’t give a shit about anything other than the beautiful, disobedient woman standing in front of him.

  Cora’s mouth dropped open as she turned to look back at him right as he closed the front door. “I didn’t wander away. I went to the bathroom. And—” Her eyes flashed. “—And I wouldn’t have been alone if you’d joined me like you said you would.” Her chin went up like part of her wanted to take it back but then she decided not to.

  “On. Your. Knees,” Marcus ground out through clenched teeth.

  Cora looked at Marcus in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding m—”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, wife.” His voice was so cold it could have iced the North Pole.

  But he kept reliving that moment—getting to the balcony where she was supposed to be sitting right as the crowd mobbed the stage.

  And he’d had no clue where his own wife was as the violent scene unfolded below him. He’d shouted over his earpiece to all of his Shades but none of them had eyes on her. How the fuck did none of them have eyes on her after the earlier incident with AJ?

  How the fuck could you have left her side after what happened with AJ? He’d been meeting with his capos about the big shipment due to arrive later this month. It was imperative that they secure the goods and manage distribution instead of the Titans.

  But none of it fucking mattered if he lost her.

  It had been six torturous minutes before Sharo located her. And when he had, he found her with a dead girl.

  Marcus’s hands clenched. He needed to regain control and he needed it now.

  But Cora only crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly and glared at him.

  He didn’t miss how her chin quivered the next second, though. He wasn’t the only one who’d been shaken by tonight’s events. Cora had been the one to discover the girl who’d overdosed—AJ’s girl. Because of that asshole, his wife had to look death in the face.

  She needed this as much as he did. And he would always give her what she needed. He could quiet her mind and make it all go away—if she would just give herself over to him.