Manik

by Amo Jones

  “Why, Syn? Why’d you go with it?”

  “At first? It was because I wanted to ruin her. I knew what my mission was. I wanted my revenge and I went about it in ways that were probably questionable to people who didn’t understand the bigger picture. Then she happened. We happened, and I couldn’t fight it. I fucking tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. When you came to me and told me that she was Amaya Corvo, I knew I had to make you think that I didn’t know, because I knew that if you knew I had known all along and I still let my feelings get involved with her while knowing who she really was, that you would shoot me on the spot. In regards to the other bird, I needed to kill.” I look over my shoulder at Joseph. “Initially, I was doing it because I wanted the consigliere position. I always wanted to make you proud, but I knew I’d have to prove myself more than anyone else because I’m your son.”

  “Done, it’s yours.”

  Manik squeezes me. “I don’t want it anymore.”

  “So, what do you want, Syn? Tell me.” Vlad looks hopeful.

  Manik exhales. “I want out.”

  All four of the men who are in here freeze, and there’s a blood-curdling laugh coming from behind us.

  Manik continues. “We all know I’ve lost the fire for it. I want to rap, that’s where my future is, especially if I want one with her.”

  Vlad still hasn’t answered.

  The silence is loud.

  Manik continues. “I know—”

  “—Let him,” one of the men says. He’s handsome for an old guy, too. He steps closer, tilting his head to Manik. “Come on, V. It’s his time, he has served well.”

  Another long stretch of silence. “You can’t quit the Bratva, Syn. If I don’t kill you, someone else will.”

  “Dad, you are The Boss, no one will undermine you, and everyone knows I won’t snitch. It’s a matter of your approval.”

  Vlad seems to think over something, and then his hand disappears beneath his jacket, and everything starts to slow.

  He slowly pulls his hand out, and just when I see the handle of a pistol, I scream, throwing myself in front of Manik. A loud Pop! goes off and something smashes into my chest, and then everything goes black.

  “Me and my girlfriend”—2Pac

  “What the fuck were you thinking!” I roar as soon as we have Beat in the hospital. The first minutes after that happened, nothing mattered but her, but now that I’m standing here, drenched in her blood while doctors try to save her life, I’m fucking feral.

  Dad yanks me down to one of the chairs in the waiting room beside Kat who hasn’t stopped crying, and Kyle who just came in a few minutes ago, looking like he wants to knock me out.

  “She wasn’t supposed to fucking jump in front of a flying bullet. It was aimed at your arm, because no one walks out of my goddamn Bratva without at least a fucking bullet! Son or not! But because she jumped in front, it became a direct line to her chest!”

  I sink lower into the chair. “She jumped in front of a mother-fucking bullet for me.”

  I see dad lean forward on the corner of my eye, his elbows coming to his knees. He lowers his voice. “Syn, I’m willing to let you have her as a reward for all that you’ve done for me and the Bratva. And aside from that, I understand that damn Corvo pull—”I glare at him. He chuckles, and then continues. “—All I’m saying is that her jumping in front of a bullet and you willing to leave the Bratva for her, and everything you both have put each other through. I can live with the satisfaction that it’s enough. I want you happy, Syn. You’re still my son. I may not be comfortable with her right now, but I will learn to accept her.” He leans back, muttering, “It’d be easier if she wasn’t a splitting image of her damn mother.”

  I lunge to my feet when sitting still doesn’t help. I can’t hear what dad is trying to say to me right now. I start pacing up and down the waiting room, watching as Kyle pulls Kat into his arms, rocking her gently. Darya catches my eye when she comes in through the doors with Uncle Az and Benny.

  Kat launches off her chair and clips Darya square in the jaw. Dad pulls her back, arms flying everywhere as Darya tries to stand from the ground.

  I give them both a blank glare. “Can you fucking not right now?”

  “Fuck you, D! You need to crawl back into the hole Aeron pulled you up from.”

  “That hole would be your dad’s bed, sweetie!”

  I sigh, massaging my temples. Truthfully, we all fucking know the real reason why Kat has never liked D. It’s because Kat is used to running princess.

  Kat gasps. “You take that back!” Then she looks at the old man, and if he didn’t just cap my woman, I’d feel bad for him. “Daddy, tell me she’s lying!”

  “I can’t fuck with you all right now.” I leave them, heading toward the twin doors I saw the docs take Beat through and slide down the wall, drawing my knees up.

  Running my palms over my face, I count to ten.

  One.

  Beatrice is in hospital.

  Two.

  Beatrice is shot.

  Three.

  Dad shot her.

  Four.

  She might die.

  I launch off the ground and start walking back and forth again, my thoughts like a train going toward a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour.

  “Brother?” Lenny whispers from behind me, and my shoulders instantly sag in relief. I turn to face him, my eyebrows pulling together. “She’s going to be fine.”

  “And if she’s not?” I ask, even though the words feel like they’re carved with razor blades, slicing through my throat.

  “Then we kill your old man.” Lenny shrugs, taking a seat on the floor beside me. I join him. Maybe this will make the time more bearable.

  “The paparazzi are all outside. You’d think they’d have happier things to follow since it’s so close to Christmas.”

  I didn’t even realize we were close to Christmas and Thanksgiving.

  The doors swing open and a woman dressed in scrubs stops abruptly, looking down at both of us. “Hello.”

  She looks young. “No offense, but if you tell me you just had your fingers inside my girl, trying to save her life, I’m going to have to ask to see your credentials.”

  “Well, you’re right, that is offensive,” she replies and then straightens. “But yes, I’m Natalie Stephens, the assisting surgeon, and I believe we did, in fact, save her life. After we removed the bullet from her ribs, where it just missed her heart by a few inches, and then closed the wound. She will be moved to ICU where you can see her when she wakes. Please, close family only.”

  She disappears down the corridor and Lenny looks on in awe.

  I shove him. “No.”

  A dark cloud has slowly shifted from over my head and I let out a deep exhale. “I gotta go and tell everyone.”

  I’m walking into the waiting room, ignoring the nervous glances from the staff—probably because of my old man—when I pause in my tracks.

  There, standing directly in front of me—in the damn flesh—Is Antonio Corvo. He brushes his hands down his suit, and gives me a once over, before finding my dad instantly. The air grows cold, and I swear I see a few of the staff scatter. There are guards and police at the entrance of the hospital to stop the paparazzi from piling in, so I know this can’t get ugly, but it’s still unnerving.

  “Where is my granddaughter, why didn’t anyone tell me she was still alive, and why the fuck am I only just hearing about this now?”

  I make my way farther into the waiting room. “Long story. Take a seat and I’ll fill you in.”

  I’m a piece of shit because as soon as Beat opens her eyes, there’s a big chance she’s not going to want to be with me.

  Some secrets are just too poisonous to ignore, and she is about to swallow one of them.

  I don’t know how many days have passed when I finally open my eyes. It’s the morning, because I can hear birds chirping and feel the sun blaring into my room. Flowers and cards are scattered everywhere t
hat I can see, but there’s no sign of living people. Which is good, it gives me a second to collect my thoughts.

  Thirst.

  My mouth feels filled with cotton and I reach slowly for the jug and cup on the table beside me, pushing away the flowers. My side pinches in pain, but I ignore it, continuing to pour the water. I’m bringing the cup to my mouth when the door opens, and Kat walks through, her eyes rimmed red and her frame frail. When she looks to the bed and sees me, she freezes, dropping her cup of coffee. “Oh my God! Aeron!” Then she runs into the room, pulling me into a hug, and hurting me in the process.

  I hiss, and she steps back, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry, Beat! Oh girl. It’s so good to have you back. I would have been an orphan if you didn’t make it back to us.”

  I freeze. “He shot me—why?”

  “Hey, baby,” Aeron says, walking deeper into the room.

  I smile at him, my heart filling with warmth. “Hey.”

  “And to answer your question, it was an accident,” Aeron continues, coming closer to my bed. “The bullet was meant for me, yes, but it was meant for my arm, nothing deadly. It was dad lashing out that I was leaving. Means nothing, I swear. If it were anyone else, that bullet would have been between my eyes.”

  I sigh, sinking into the bed.

  “And he’s sorry,” Aeron adds.

  I’m not sure how I feel about how casual it is to shoot members of your own family, but I’ll think on that a little later.

  “There’s something else I have to tell you, baby, and I’m really sorry about this shit timing, but I think it’s important you know everything right now so you can have some time to think on how you’re going to proceed.”

  “Proceed?” I ask, inching up my bed and wincing again when the side of my injured ribs sting.

  “With our relationship.”

  “Oh,” I answer wistfully, unsure what could possibly be worse than everything I’ve already endured to warrant me walking away.

  “Your granddad wants to see you.”

  I still. “He’s dead, what do you mean?”

  Aeron’s eyes go to Kat whose face can only be described as broken.

  “He’s not dead, baby, because the one who raised you wasn’t your real granddad.”

  It’s like a semi-truck smashes into me and I gasp, desperate for air. “No. That’s not true!” I hiss. “You cannot take away the only person…” I pause, remembering my nona. “People who ever meant anything to me! I won’t let you!”

  “It’s true, babe. After that shit happened with your parents, my dad needed to put you somewhere where he could keep a good eye on you. A place where no one would question you, with people who are sacred, because” —he clears his throat, his eyes coming to mine “—because they were my grandparents who raised you.”

  Tears stream down my cheeks, my heart physically snaps in my chest. “They were all I had, Manik, and now you’re telling me that they were never mine to begin with and that they were actually yours?”

  His hand comes to mine, but I yank it away. “Yes, but I didn’t know until my dad just told me. I swear to you, that was something I did not know.” He carries on, because who cares about tearing someone’s world apart when you damn well own it. “I’m sorry, Cub. But, the feelings and the bond you had with my nana and pops? It was real. They’re my mom’s parents and I fucking love that you had such a strong connection with them—”

  “—Don’t!” I snap. “So, they knew all along? I felt so wanted by them. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s because that’s the kind of people they were, Beat,” Kat says, putting her hand on mine.

  I pull away, glaring at Aeron, my feelings for him so warped and confused that I don’t know whether to run or hide. “And who is Darya? If you tell me that she’s my long-lost sister or something I swear I will hit you.”

  “No,” he adds, shaking his head. “All of what you learned about her tonight is real. They just left out the sick bond her and my old man have. Before him, she was in my bed. She was raised with us, I broke her heart and shit, and then she went to Dad to mend it. Been with him since.”

  “This family is toxic,” I whisper, my eyelashes fluttering through the wetness.

  My harsh words hit the intended source because Manik flinches. “And where is this man who was with her now?”

  Manik falters. “Taken care of. That’s Bratva business, baby, you don’t have to worry about it.”

  I exhale. “Get out. Both of you.”

  “Cub…” he warns, but I don’t want to hear it.

  “No. Just, leave, Aeron.”

  They both get up and shuffle out of the room.

  “Hennessey”—2Pac

  Three Weeks Later

  “Just hand me the damn things, Kyle!” I yell over the cheesy Christmas carols. I went back to my home with Kyle under one condition.

  Katiya wasn’t to come to this house while I’m here.

  I don’t know how I feel about the revelations that have happened over the last eight months.

  I don’t know how I feel about them, either. All I know is that I’m a little more broken now since they walked into my life and I know that the only way this will ever work with Aeron and I is if I’m the one who puts me back together.

  Not him. You cannot expect the same hands that broke you to be the same ones to fix you. I think that’s where relationships fall apart, through the cracks that are left behind, because not one person truly knows the damage of one’s soul and all the little hairline cracks that can be easily missed unless you are that person.

  I’m not saying never, I’m just saying not right now.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I fish it out, opening it to a phone call from an unknown number.

  “I’ll just take this,” I mutter to Kyle as he fights the cookbook.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Amaya Noemi Corvo…” a voice breathes into the phone. The voice is dark and mysterious, the kind that has aged by throwing orders.

  I want to say that it’s actually Romanov, but think better of it. “Who is this?”

  “I’m Antonio Corvo, your grandfather. I don’t want to bother you, and before you hang up, hear me out.”

  I lean against the kitchen counter, my eyes glassing over. It still stings, like an old wound that has been sliced open again, this time it’s more tender. In my mind, and my heart, my grandparents still died all those years ago.

  They still left me some money. Though now that I think of it, they probably had a lot more and I only got a cut of it to make it all seem real. That’s not what hurts, I don’t care about the amount of the money, it’s just another lie and another fabrication of a false life.

  Who am I?

  Am I Amaya Corvo, or am I Beatrice Kennedy?

  This is what I need to figure out.

  “When you are ready, I am here to talk. You are still a Corvo by blood, and I take care of my own.”

  “Like you did my parents?”

  He chuckles, and if I wasn’t hidden by the safety of my cell phone, that chuckle would scare me. “Your father was an issue as a young child. As I said, when you are ready, my door is open. If you find yourself in New York, I’ll send you a number you can have to contact me with—only you. How does that sound?”

  It sounds like I don’t trust him one bit, but what’s that old saying, trust is earned. “Ok.”

  “Good.” He seems relieved. Maybe this is step one in the trust earning thing.

  “I better go. My best friend is trying to cook.”

  He laughs softly. “Ok, kid. We’ll talk when you have time.”

  I hang up and push the phone back into my pocket.

  “Who was that?” Kyle asks as he starts pulling out eggs, flour, and other ingredients from the pantry.

  “No one special.”

  Thanksgiving went fast, and it was good to just have Kyle and I spending some time together. I’ve had a lot of time to think on the Aeron and K
atiya thing. I miss Aeron, so I do need to figure out how I’m going to go with that. He might be sick of me, but I’ve got to at least let him know my feelings. The weeks have been torture without having him near me, and same goes for Katiya. They feel like my family, and sometimes, it takes absence to find that out. Kyle hasn’t been pressing the Aeron and Katiya drama, he has actually been staying out of it for the most part, which I respect. One thing he hasn’t stayed out of, though, is the Antonio drama. Oh no, he had to push me to do that, because in his words, ‘You have a chance to have family, Beatrice. When I met you, you had none, you were a drifter. Now you have so many people who love you, you’ll always have a family, a home,’ which is part of the reason why I’ve found myself here. Where I am right now. Standing outside of one of the biggest skyscrapers I’ve ever seen, right in the center of NYC.

  I look down at my phone again, tightening the warm scarf around my neck. A single snowflake drops on the tip of my nose and I push my phone back into my pocket.

  “Fuck it.”

  I take one step, abou—“You aren’t going in there without me, Cub,” a voice whispers so softly over the back of my ear.

  I shiver, even though the mist from his breath is pure warmth against the frosting of my flesh. “Aeron?”

  I turn around and come smack bang face-to-face with his chest.

  A suit is clenching his body snuggly, as if he’s been pumping more iron since the last time I left him, and when my eyes travel up past his neck and land on his jaw, I catch the tightness.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, fog coming out of my mouth. I squeeze my hands tightly, well aware that if I wasn’t wearing gloves that I’d be digging new crescent moons into my palms.

  “You’re a Romanov now, Cub. There’s no way I’m letting you walk in there alone.”

  He won’t look at me. His face is fixed over my shoulder, his jaw still tense.

  I shrug. “Fine, but please don’t kill anyone. I actually am interested in what he has to say.” Because I am. I’ve been texting back and forth with Antonio since Thanksgiving. The trust tree is looking rather healthy.