by T. L Smith
Chapter 15
Kazier
Present
I left Freya’s intending to go home and speak to my father. He can’t make me do this, he can’t force me to marry someone I don’t love. Before I even open the door, it’s being pulled open by Catara. Her evil smirk is back in place, and she’s looking at me like I’m her last meal. I push past her, and as soon as I do, I feel her hand come around and land on my ass with a crack. I take a deep breath before I turn around as she squeezes it hard, making me even angrier.
She sees my face when I turn and takes a quick step back, her heels clicking on the floor as she does so.
“Your father is here, be careful, Kazier,” she whispers to me.
I’ve come to a point where I’ve realized there’s no need for me to be scared of my father. Yes, he was the most ruthless man I’ve ever known. Yes, he was the king of my world. But I am that now, I have become who he once was, who he no longer is and what he is no longer capable of being. I grab the knife in my jeans, her eyes follow every movement. I step closer, as she takes another step back. Then I rush her, throwing her against the wall, the knife now on one of her fake breasts, digging in through her clothes.
“You think I’m scared of him? It would do me nothing but good to end you. My father would probably pat my back after your funeral. You are, after all, only a piece of ass. You have bred no kids for him. So what’s your worth exactly, hooker?”
Her eyes drop down to my knife, I inch it just under her rib cage, cutting her dress. She gasps but doesn’t move, knowing it will slice her. Then she spits at me, forcing me to go deeper into her skin. Her scream of agony rings through my ear, then I’m thrown backward, landing on my ass. Before I even realize who did it, I’m standing and charging that person. My fist lands hard, I feel the crack under my fingers. My father stumbles backward, his hands trying to stop the blood now coating his shirt.
“I’ll kill her…” I tell him.
He looks to her, then to me. “Get out, now.” His free hand points to the door.
I turn back to her, seeing her smirk, then take a step closer to her, the smirk instantly leaving her face.
“He can’t protect you, you bitch. I will slice and dice you the minute he turns his back.”
“Out,” my father demands.
She sees the anger on my face as I walk out. One day I will. One day I will fuck her up so badly, she won’t see it coming and no one will recognize her afterward.
****
Anton’s mother is just as loud as Anton. She starts speaking to me in Russian as soon as I enter the door. The words fly from her mouth, and before she even gives me a chance to respond, she starts talking again. She pulls me into the room where the boys are sitting down on the couch, a bottle of vodka between them and an Xbox controller at their fingertips. She disappears and returns with a bottle of vodka for me. Placing it in my lap she walks away. The boys don’t even notice me, too interested in their stupid game. Anton sits there screaming at the screen like it can hear him. It can’t. Stupid fucker.
“I’m going to the Bartalotti’s,” I announce.
They both stop playing and turn toward me, interest now registered on their faces. I pick up the vodka placing it to my lips and chugging it down. When I pull it away, both are standing and hoisting their holsters, loading them with their knives and guns. One thing I love about them, they never question, they’re just as happy as I am to kill someone.
“How we doing this? Storm the place?” Anton asks pulling his shirt down. “Just us, or we getting everyone?”
“Just us,” I reply shaking my head. Hopefully, we don’t die, I still have a list of people that need to be ten foot under before I join their asses.
Anton drives like a dickhead straight to the Bartalotti’s house. It takes us fifteen minutes with his stupid ass driving skills. He brakes, and we all look in, seeing if we can notice anyone. Just as we’re about to come up with a plan, a car pulls out of the driveway. You can’t see who’s in it because the windows are completely tinted black.
“Follow it,” I order Anton. He stays just enough off their tail that when they pull up to a house, they don’t even notice us. We watch as two men climb out, one looks familiar, but neither are the three men I planned on killing tonight.
“We going to go in?” Anton asks.
They both go to the back of the car, and we all watch as they pull out two heavy duffle bags. When they walk to the door, a man is standing there holding it open.
“We are,” I reply pulling my door open and getting out.
As the men close the door behind them, we go around to the side of the house to try and look inside, but all the windows are blacked out, and we can’t see a thing.
Viktor walks off, Anton and I watch him disappear behind the building, then we hear a bang. We both run back around to the front, to find Viktor kicking the door in. He kicks it again and again until it finally opens, breaking the locks. As soon as I look up, guns are pointed at our heads. I body slam Viktor to the ground, just missing a bullet as it flies past us. Anton starts shooting from the other side of the door that’s hanging by its hinges. The gun shots slowly die down and when we stand back up Anton enters.
As soon as we hurry to the door, Anton has already shot and killed one man, two are badly injured and lying on the floor. They both go wide-eyed when they see us.
“What do we have here?” I ask, recognizing one of the men. A family member of the Bartalotti’s. He tries to scoot away from me, but it’s no use. My foot slams hard onto his, stopping and busting his foot. His screams fill the night air.
“What’s in the bags?” Anton asks pointing at the bags on the table. The Bartalotti family member starts shaking his head. Anton walks over and unzips it, then starts pulling out bags of cocaine. He throws a baggie to me which I recognize instantly as one of mine. He watches with a wide-eyed stare which pierces me, his breathing becomes heavy and labored. Looking down I see his shaking hands as a small trickle of sweat beads on his forehead. He’s obviously freaking out.
“How did you get this?” He doesn’t answer. “Since I’m being taken for granted, and my money seems to be disappearing, I only have one way that can make up for the losses I’m incurring.” I hold my hand out, and Viktor places what I need directly in my palm. “See this here, it’s called a surgical knife. It’s what they use when doctors need to open you up. So, can you guess what I plan to do with it?”
He begins to back away. The man next to him tries to not make a peep, knowing his life is in danger, and hoping he doesn’t get the same treatment I’m about to give this man. I click my fingers and in an instant, both men are being picked up and carried to the table. Lucky it’s a big table. Their hands are tied down, and the boys hold their legs.
They start to scream, and I haven’t even touched them yet.
“This may hurt… just a bit,” I say to the first guy. The one that’s related. The other could be too, it’s just I’ve never seen him before, so I don’t care much for him. The knife cuts straight through like it’s a piece of paper, then I run the blunt end along his stomach making him scream for no reason other than my self-satisfaction.
“I’ll give you anything. I’ll tell you anything,” he starts to plead with me.
I tune him out and begin on the right side, cutting deep, just below his kidney. The blood starts to ooze out fast, touching my hand that holds his down. The warmth of it makes me relax, the smell puts me at ease. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to me, maybe it is.
As soon as the incision is made, my hand goes in, and the man passes out. No more moving. I initiate cutting away the vessels that are connected to the kidney as well as the connections to the bladder.
I’m no surgeon, and the first time I did this I just tried pulling the kidney out without removing its connections. Let’s just say that didn’t end up well. Now, I have a fair idea of what to cut, except today I really don’t care to be exact. Just as I have the
kidney in my hand, the man wakes up screaming bloody murder. My hand comes free, his kidney fits inside it perfectly. His screams stop, then he looks at my hand before he passes out again. I throw it into the ice bucket that Viktor places next to me. Handing the knife to Anton—this is his favorite part—I wonder how long he’ll live until the blood loss affects his brain and he dies.
I turn to the man who’s now white as a ghost, but perfectly still on the table next to his friend, or colleague, or whoever he is to him.
I point to his friend, then back to him. “Now, run along back home. Tell your bosses who did this. Tell them I am coming.”
The man’s eyes are so wide, they look like they’re basically going to fall out. Sweat beads on his forehead as he stands and looks to the door then back to me.
“Hold on,” I say, just as Anton passes the knife back to me. “Give me your hand.”
His head starts to shake no. I smirk at him, then point to his friend.
“Last chance, give me your hand.”
He does, this time knowing his fate couldn’t be as bad as his friend. I grip his wrist hard, Viktor walks around to stand beside him, wraps his arms around his midsection, then pins him where he stands. His pinkie slices off like a piece of meat in a butcher shop, and he doesn’t even scream as hard as his friend.
Chapter 16
Kazier
I decide to speak to my father. It’s been two nights since I broke his nose and two nights since I declared I was no longer obeying him. I have boarded myself up after that night. Trying to piece my life together, a good killing helps to put things into perspective.
I walk inside from around the back this time, straight into my father’s house and to his office. He stands when I walk in, his nose all plastered up, bruising covering his eyes. I close the door when I enter, not wanting his cunt of a wife to come in because I will kill her.
“I won’t marry her,” I finally say it.
My father sits back down on his throne, or chair, whatever the fuck he calls it and shakes his head. “You can’t call it off, the date is set,” he says trying to stay firm in his decision.
“You didn’t hear me, Father, I will not marry her.”
He drops back into the chair, his hands now in his lap. “She is expected to marry. She will be married. It’s her father’s wishes. She needs the protection, son.”
“She can marry someone else, then.”
He shakes his head. “No, she won’t! Who else do I have to marry her? No one! You are it. So you will do as you’re told.”
“Viktor,” I say.
My father looks stunned for a second then raises his eyebrows. “Viktor? He killed his last girlfriend. You think she would marry him?”
“I have no doubt.”
“Would he marry her, though?” he asks in return.
“I will tell him he has to.”
“And he always listens to you, does he?” he asks with a small laugh.
Little does he know my men give me the utmost respect, and I don’t need to kill their loved ones to get it. Not like my father.
“He does! You see, he knows that I do things to only improve the Bratva. You, on the other hand—”
He stands and slams his fist on the table effectively interrupting me.
He can’t deny my request. Viktor is almost as high ranking as I am. He may never want to lead, but he’s just as scary, sometimes even more so.
“You may be my son, but don’t think for a second I won’t have you killed,” he spits at me.
“Not if I kill you first, Father,” I say standing and walking to the door. “Oh, and I will kill her, especially if she touches my ass again,” I say slamming the door, walking out the same way I came in.
I step straight to the side of the house, back to my father’s guest house, and when I open the door there she fucking is—sitting there, waiting.
“I told you it was over,” I say as I slam the door when I enter. She doesn’t move, she looks down at her nails and begins to play with them. “You need to leave, Elina. Two years is long enough for a head fuck. Get out.” I point to the door, no room on my face for her to sway me.
Her eyes find mine. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen sorrow in them. For me? I don’t even know with her.
“No,” she says simply. “You are mine, I am yours. You know this,” she finishes off.
“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Did you rehearse that? Because it was shit. I don’t even know you,” I say walking past her straight to the bed. She starts to talk when I land my back on it.
“I’ll tell you something you want to know,” she says.
“Talk or leave, I don’t particularly care,” I say.
She stands and starts to walk over to me, but I hold up my hand. “From over there,” I say pointing to the chair her ass was just on. If she comes over here, I won’t keep my hands off of her.
“My father’s a bitch,” she says then laughs. “He’s mean, and just downright a shit father.” She looks up to the roof when she speaks, her head drops back down and she turns so she’s facing me.
I sit up so I can hear her speak, because no matter what she says, I’ll listen to every word because her voice is like a soothing lullaby and full of sex.
“He makes me do things I don’t want to do. To him, I’m an object. My brother is the king.” As she says it she rolls her eyes. “My friend, you saw me with…” I nod my head. “She’s blind. That’s why I didn’t need to speak loudly when you saw my mouth moving. She hears better than most people, and no one knows her. I met her one day and I loved her… like instantly loved her. She’s so gorgeous, not just the outside but also inside. Her soul is beautiful, you know?”
“Not like ours,” I say.
She turns to look away. “Yes, not like ours. Ours is tainted, so fucking tainted. But that’s what makes us… us… I guess. You and me, two fucked souls trying to find a fucked up balance between us. Hasn’t that been fun?” She laughs. “So I keep her away. Away from everything that’s tainted, because she’s someone that thinks highly of me. No one has thought highly of me… ever. And if she touches my soul, I’m afraid I will fall straight into that black pit that none of us can escape from, pulling her with me. She’s the only good thing I know, so I told her to run.”
“You think you’re broken? Tainted?” I ask her standing.
She doesn’t answer as she looks at me. “You know it. I know it. We both are!”
I pull her up to me, flushing her body against mine. My hand sneaks up between us, I touch her heart, she smiles softly.
“Maybe it’s as black as mine. Maybe it’s only touched the blackness, but baby, in a world full of color there needs to be dark because darkness is the best place to be.”
She shakes her head and leans in to kiss me. Her softest kiss yet. No biting, no chewing, just a soft kiss on the lips. And it’s beautiful. I’m staining her even more, with my black tainted soul, and she loves it. I run my hands up along her back, it’s bare, no bra just a backless top and a skirt. And just as I’m about to hitch it up, I’m stopped.
“Kazier…” My name is spoken and I pull back, wanting to curse my father when I see that he’s staring at Elina like she’s grown a third head. Her hands drop from mine, and she doesn’t speak as she walks to the door, shouldering past my father and then walking outside. I start to follow her, but my father pulls me back.
“Do you know who that is?” he asks shocked.
“Yes,” I say looking past him. I can’t see her, she’s disappeared again. My fist crashes into the plasterboard wall breaking it right next to his head.
“I know her,” he says.
In the next second I’m in his face, standing there and glaring.
“And if she touches a foot on this soil again, she’ll be going home in a body bag. Do you understand?” he states pointing his finger at my chest.
I can’t help but laugh.
“This is why you don’t want to
marry Freya, isn’t it? You feel for that… that hooker.” He laughs, holding his belly and tipping over slightly.
“I would watch your choice of words, old man. We don’t want you to see an early grave now, do we?”
“It is, isn’t it? She’s the reason why. How long have you been seeing her?” he asks standing tall again.
I don’t lie there’s no reason to. “Two years,” I reply.
My father’s eyes almost bulge from his head. “Before I announced your intent to marriage?”
I nod my head. Damn it, I should have squished the idea back then. What the fuck was I thinking?
“Do you know her last name, son?” he asks me.
“No, and I don’t give a fuck!”
He chuckles out an evil laugh. “She is the granddaughter of Pitrov Bartalotti, and the daughter of Bartollo.”
“Fucking lies,” I tell him, clenching my fists, trying to keep the anger at bay.
“No, son, no lies. And if she comes back, I will send them their daughter in tiny pieces,” he warns. As he walks out the door he slams it so hard that the lock breaks and shatters, leaving me standing there wondering how the fuck I missed it.
Maybe Freya was right, maybe it has been all her fault.
Chapter 17
Kazier
Past
I did it, I got that fucking tattoo she wanted. Her name, forever etched onto my skin, right on my wrist. It was only a few days since I last saw her, and I was hoping to see her tonight because the questions I wanted to ask had been running rampant in my brain for days. I needed answers, and one wasn’t going to fulfill that.
“You’re pussy whipped,” Anton sang as he walked to my door. He spotted the tattoo. I didn’t tell him, or even show him. He saw the red skin and pulled my arm to look for himself. He couldn’t stop laughing when he laid eyes on it, and I had to kick his laughing ass out of my house, hoping she would turn up. “Seriously, though, will you get my name next?” he asked as he turned. And as he stepped foot out the door, I slammed it in his laughing face.
