by Rina Kent
“Sweetheart.” She smiles at me through the tears. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Really?”
“Really.” She faces Daddy again. “I will tell ye.”
“Ye will tell me what?”
“All I know about the Russians’ attack. Also, ye should know there’s a traitor by yer side.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why should I believe ye?”
“Because I wouldn’t have wanted to leave if he weren’t a threat.”
“Ye will truly tell me everything?”
“Aye, but ye have to let me be with Kyle.”
“Ye will never escape again?” He doesn’t seem mad anymore, just…sad. But why? Daddy is never sad.
Mammy shakes her head once. “I won’t.”
“How do I know ye’re not bluffing?”
“I would never put Kyle in danger. Ye know that.”
“Right. Go on.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but it remains suspended with no sound coming out as a loud pop echoes in the air.
I hold my breath and my tears, not sure what just happened. A liquid pours out from the center of her chest, soaking the black jacket as she staggers and falls in Patrick’s arms.
“M-Mammy…?” My voice is small, hesitant. She’s not moving.
“Amy!” Daddy bellows, falling to his knees in front of her. “Get the fucker who did this!”
Patrick drops Mammy and runs in the opposite direction, but I don’t focus on him. The only thing I can see is Mammy on the ground, not able to move. Why can’t she? Is it because of the patch of liquid on her chest, which Daddy is squeezing?
“Mammy…” I call her again ’cause she always replies.
She doesn’t now.
Her head is lolling to the side and she’s coughing blood. That can’t be good. Mammy said blood gets out of people when they’re hurt.
“Amy…fuck…” Daddy holds her cheek tighter. “Stay with me…I’ll forgive anything if ye just…stay.”
“K-Kyle…” she mumbles.
Daddy motions at Luke, and he puts me on my feet beside her. Her eyes are half-closed as if she wants to go to sleep, but she smiles up at me. “S-so sorry, sweetheart. Mammy is so sorry.”
“Why?”
“B-because I couldn’t protect ye.”
“I will.” Daddy places an arm around my shoulder. “So don’t go. Kyle is the reason ye went through all of this, so it’s useless if ye die now.”
“Ye’re a good man, Niall. Ye truly are, but ye’re influenced by bad apples who clouded yer reason.” She places her hand on top of his. “I’ve never regretted making the decision to be with ye. Ye kept us safe as ye promised and…I-I’ll forever be grateful.”
“Amy…ye’re not allowed to leave.”
“I-if ye ever loved me, t-take care of Kyle…please…”
“Mammy…” I place my small hand on her mouth, wiping away the blood. “Are ye hurt?”
“I-I think so, sweetheart.”
“I’m gonna remove the blood so ye’re not.” I wipe at it with the sleeve of my coat, but it keeps coming out over and over again, streaming down her chin.
“Th-that’s my good boy.” She smiles a little. “Ye were born for great things, sweetheart. Make Mammy proud, okay?”
Daddy’s lips thin. “Stop talking like that, Amy.”
“Will ye take care of him, Niall?”
“Ye’ll wake up and do it yourself.”
“Promise ye’ll raise him properly. P-promise.”
“I will.”
Her lips remain frozen in a smile as a tear slides down her cheek. “Thank ye…”
She blinks once, then stops altogether, her eyes open wide but not looking at me.
“Mammy!” I scream. “Mammy!”
“Fuck,” Daddy murmurs under his breath, still grabbing her by the chest. “Fucking fuck!”
“Why isn’t Mammy moving?” I shriek. “Help her! She’s hurt.”
He squeezes my shoulder, and it’s like he’s about to crush my bones. “I’m sorry, lad. So sorry.”
“I don’t want ye sorry. I want Mammy to move.”
“Take him to his room, Luke.”
“Not so fast.” The familiar voice comes from behind us.
Daddy turns around, but it’s already too late. A pop echoes in the air and a patch of red explodes on Daddy’s white shirt. His hand falls from my shoulder as he staggers and his face hits the grass.
“D-Daddy…?”
I stare at how he’s sprawled on top of Mammy, but they’re not moving. It’s like they’re asleep, but they shouldn’t be asleep with their eyes open and blood all over them, right?
The blood has to be gone.
All of it.
I turn around to tell Luke to help them, but someone hits me across the face. My body swings back and I fall on the ground with a thud.
My vision moves between my parents, unable to take my eyes off them. If I sleep, they’ll be there in the morning, right?
“What should we do with the lad, boss? Kill him?” one of the men in black asks.
“Aye, of course. He’s a liability that we need to take care of,” another replies.
“No.” The one who shot Daddy interrupts them, his eyes glinting in the dark night. “I have better plans for him.”
Kyle
Present
I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds to chase away the assault of memories.
That night, my fate was decided.
I wasn’t only deprived of my parents, I also lost the only two people who protected me from the world. The disaster was brutal and happened without a warning.
But that was the mere beginning of my life, the starting point of how I turned into this shadow.
It’s not the end.
Life might be a bitch, but I didn’t just die. I was given a second chance in the form of becoming a shadow, a chance to cut their throats one by each one.
I’m close.
After nearly thirty years, I’m so fucking close to making my mother proud. I’ve become worse than an ogre. I’m a monster with nothing to lose, and those who were behind her death will pay in the same blood that left her body and Dad’s.
It’s not only my own, the Irish, but it’s also the Russians. The one Mum trusted and gave information in exchange for getting us out—he betrayed her and was one of the main reasons behind her death.
It’s as unforgivable as the Irish fucker who killed my father in cold blood and seized his power. He tossed me aside as if I were an insect so I didn’t get in the way of his grand plans.
He’s now anxious about what will happen to him, but that’s only the beginning of it.
The Irish and the Russians will clash and eventually destroy one another. I’ll stand there and watch every second of it.
So yes, it was never about the power, the brotherhood, or whoever gets to reign. I don’t give two fucks about that or what everyone keeps plotting behind everyone else’s back.
This is about vengeance. Justice.
Life for life and blood for blood is the only philosophy I believe in. I might have stayed alive, but a huge part of me was shot dead with my parents that night, my childhood and my whole fucking life.
After I finish my call with Flame, I put on my jacket and stand in front of the mirror. Usually, Rai would slip in front of me and fix my jacket or the collar of my shirt, because nothing is perfect enough for her.
Despite the composed image she shows the world, Rai is meticulous and doesn’t like to be caught off guard.
She’ll probably fight me tooth and nail once everything comes to light, but I’m ready for that. I’ve been ready since the beginning.
I take extra care to make myself presentable because today will be one of the last meetings I’ll have with the Russians before I leave them.
But I won’t leave her. My wife.
It doesn’t matter that this marriage started in the most unconventional way possible. It’s still tr
ue and she agreed to it, sealing it with her ‘I do.’ Those words mean a lot more than she’ll ever know.
It also doesn’t matter that I plan to go back to my old ways—the days of killing and roaming around like a lone wolf. The only difference this time is that Rai will be by my side.
I have no doubt she’ll resist me every step of the way. As much as I hate the brotherhood and plan to destroy it until no one is left, Rai considers it home.
She had the chance to switch back with her twin or disappear, but she didn’t. She chose the rotten place where half disrespect her and the other half are plotting to ruin her.
The loyalty in that woman is no joke, and getting her to abandon Nikolai Sokolov’s legacy won’t be easy, but I’ll find a way.
After deeming myself presentable, I head to the exit. As soon as I open the door, a potent premonition hits me in the face.
Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what it is or why it’s coming now, of all times, but I know it’s there.
It’s impossible to ignore my instinct when it’s kept me alive all this time. The moment killers start brushing over their instinct, they die. It’s as simple as that.
Did the Russians perhaps figure something out?
They can’t possibly suspect me after I used my body to save Sergei. That gesture, although not intentional and only the result of needing to protect Rai, means something in their loyalty ledger.
My legs come to a slow halt at the top of the stairs. Initially, I don’t believe what I’m seeing, even though it’s right in front of me.
This feeling is like being trapped in one of those surreal nightmares, and the only way out is another nightmare. Perhaps the flashback I had earlier about the darkest night of my life is coming back to haunt me and haul me to another black hole filled with blood.
I blink once, twice, but the scene in front of me doesn’t disappear.
Why the fuck am I not waking up?
I close my eyes for a second, then open them, and the view hits me as if it’s the first time. As if I’m that five-year-old boy who could only stop and stare as his life was stripped away from him.
Rai lies at the bottom of the stairs, her head lolled to the side and her limbs sprawled at unnatural angles as if they’re broken, but that’s not what robs me of breath. It’s the fact that she’s not moving.
“Rai…” I whisper, but that does nothing. “Rai!”
I rush down the stairs and nearly fall from the force of my movements. I kneel by her motionless body and slowly place a hand on her shoulder.
Her chest is rising and falling, but barely.
Bloody fucking hell.
She must’ve fallen down the stairs, but how come I didn’t hear it? That doesn’t matter now—she does.
I carry her in my arms, trying my hardest not to move her too much in case she’s badly injured.
Her face is pale, lips parted, and there’s blood on her palms as if she scratched herself.
“What happened?” Ruslan runs toward me, followed by Katia, their attention on Rai in my arms.
“Get the car,” I bark. It would be better to wait for an ambulance, but we don’t have time for that.
“Yes, sir.” He storms out of the house. Katia and I follow and she opens the door for me.
“What happened?” she asks.
“I should be the one to ask you that. Why weren’t you with her?”
“She sent me on an errand, and Ruslan was getting the car ready.”
Fuck.
I get in the back seat, and Katia helps in positioning Rai’s head on my lap before she slides into the front seat.
“Get us to the hospital,” I tell Ruslan. “Now.”
His nod in the rear-view mirror is my only response as the car leaves the house with a loud screech of tires.
I run my forefinger under Rai’s nose. She’s breathing, slowly, but it’s there. However, she’s not showing any signs of consciousness.
“God damn it, Rai.”
I try to keep her steady as Ruslan flies through the traffic, cutting in front of cars as if he’s on a chase.
Katia keeps staring back at us as if to make sure Rai is still alive. I’m the same. I check her pulse every chance possible.
In that moment, before I feel her breath, my heart hammers so loud like it hasn’t worked for a long time and is now resurrecting back to life.
It’s a painful sensation. To have your heart rise from the ashes, but the person behind that change not be present to witness it.
“Come on, Rai. We didn’t even start yet and now you’re bailing out? You’re not a coward, are you?”
I stroke the ruffled hairs away from her face. She always ties it up outside of our bedroom, but now, the clip is loose, probably because of the fall.
I hold her hand in mine, and her pulse keeps weakening by the second. This is bad.
“Faster, Ruslan.”
“Yes, sir.” He hits the gas, and I hold Rai tight so she doesn’t fall.
My forehead meets hers and I close my eyes, inhaling her in. Her scent is a mixture of roses, citrus, and something exotic just like her. Her scent used to give me calm, but it’s now filling me with terrifying dread.
Tentacles of fear tighten around my throat, stealing my breath and sanity. The thought that I won’t be able to smell her again makes my entire body fucking cold.
The car comes to a screeching halt in front of the emergency room and Katia rushes out to open the door. I carry Rai in my arms and barge inside.
“She fell down the stairs,” I tell the nurses who rush to us. “I don’t care what you have to do. Give her back to me.”
One of the nurses stares at me, then at Ruslan’s bulky frame and Katia’s unwelcoming expression. She must realize what type of people we are because she gives a curt nod.
I begrudgingly put her on the rolling bed and let them wheel her into one of the exam rooms to which we’re not allowed entrance. I could storm in there, but that would distract them from Rai, and I need all their attention on her.
I remain in the waiting area with Ruslan and Katia. It’s white and smells of antiseptic and death. Unlike what people think, death isn’t rotten; it can be as clean as a hospital smell.
Over time, Katia and Ruslan take seats on the bland green chairs. I don’t. The adrenaline wave that’s been gripping me since the moment I saw Rai lying at the bottom of the stairs still beats under my skin.
It’s different from the residual burn in my chest from the gunshot wound.
The wait takes forever. It’s probably half an hour but feels like fucking years. I travel the length of the area back and forth like a trapped bloody animal.
The fact that I can’t do anything messes with my fucking brain. It’s so similar to that time when I watched my parents die and waited for them to move to no avail.
No. The verdict won’t be the same this time.
“How did she fall?” I catch Ruslan whispering to Katia.
“How would I know?” she murmurs back. “I was out, remember?”
“It doesn’t make sense for the miss to fall down the stairs. It’s just not her.”
“I know. Unless…”
He faces her fully. “What?”
“Do you think…do you think someone pushed her?
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap, glaring at them.
They stare at me right back. Ruslan and Katia have never hidden the fact that they don’t like me, probably because of the stories Rai fed them about me or because they think I’m controlling her a bit too much. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been occupying most of her time lately, and she can’t sit down and play with them anymore, or whatever the fuck it is they do when they’re together.
But they’re forced to respect me due to the brotherhood hierarchy, so they don’t glare or ignore me.
Ruslan remains silent. He’s always been blank since we were both Rai’s guards nine years ago.
“It’s just that I find
it odd for Miss to fall down the stairs,” Katia says matter-of-factly.
“Why would that give you the idea that she was pushed?” I stop my long walk and face her.
“Because it feels like it.”
“It feels like it?”
“It’s an instinct.”
An instinct. Fuck. It’s the same instinct I had when I came out of the room earlier.
If this was indeed caused by someone, I’ll find out, and when I do, they should start counting their fucking days.
The door to the exam room slides open and I rush to the doctor, meeting him in front of it. He removes his mask, revealing greasy skin and droplets of sweat on his thin upper lip.
“How is she?” I ask.
“She sprained her neck and bumped her head, and although it was mild, it’s probably the cause of her fainting.”
“And? Is she fine?”
“Well, yes, we believe so.”
“What the fuck do you mean by we believe so?”
“You’re her husband, right?”
“Yes.”
“It would be better for you to come in and see for yourself, but please don’t distress her.”
“She’s awake?”
“Yes. She’s just opened her eyes.”
The sense of relief hits me like an overwhelming wave, and I take a moment to soak it into my burning lungs.
I push past the doctor and jog inside, uncaring about the strain I’m causing to my wound.
Rai is lying on the bed. The color has somewhat returned to her cheeks, but she’s still pale. Her eyes appear lifeless and without light as she stares at the ceiling.
“Rai! Are you okay?” I ignore the chair beside her bed and sit on the mattress. I hold her pale as fuck frail hand and pretend we’re not in a place that reeks of death.
I’m getting her out of here as soon as possible.
Her head turns in my direction and she stares at me for a second too long. Unblinking but unfocused.
Her blue eyes were once bright and expressive, but they’re now emotionless like a wax doll.
The fuck?
“Hey, Princess. Are you okay? Talk to me.”
Her pale lips twist and she murmurs the words that cut me in half, “Who are you?”
