by Hera August
“Take her to her family," Judas orders.
“Vladimir’s got a good head-start," Tate replies.
Judas nods. “Know where he's headed. I’ll be fine. I know him, Tate. Know how he thinks. This is beyond personal now. He’s gonna wanna do this on his own. Save face. No help."
Not sparing them a second glance, Judas makes his way back to the SUV. Tate nudges Belle forward, but she remains stuck in place.
“Where… Where is he going?" she asks. When Tate doesn’t answer immediately, Belle's stare whips around to his. “Tate, tell me. Where is he going?"
Tate shuffles a bit before answering, “To save your father."
“ON YOUR KNEES.”
Vladimir raises the gun and brings it against Spencer's forehead. Spencer obeys. The woods are dark and dense like something out of a gothic fairytale. The trees look evil, lurking over them. Vladimir leans over, shoving the gun against Spencer's head, twisting the metal hole in so it makes an indent of a circle in Spencer’s skin.
“I got a little secret for you. You think your family's safe? You think I'm gonna honor that deal I made with Judas?” Vladimir snorts. “Don't bet on it. Men who aren't honorable, aren't treated with honor. You betray me—don't think I won't do the same to you."
“No, please,” Spencer begs. “Please. Please don't kill them. Whatever I did, they don't need to be punished for it. Please, Mr. Kulich, I’m begging you."
“Too late, Spencer. You shouldn't have crossed me. Now you all have to pay for your fucking sins."
“I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!”
“If you're a praying man, Mr. Dela Cruz, you'd better start. Because you're about five seconds away from meeting your maker."
“Please. Please…"
"Maybe God will be more merciful in Heaven. I, on the other hand, need to see you suffer—"
“Drop it."
Vladimir whirls around.
“Whoa, whoa, Judas.” Vladimir brings his hands up, goes to move closer to him but Judas aims his gun higher. Vladimir backs away. “What the fuck are you doing?"
“Drop the gun.” There is no trace of feeling in Judas’ order. He is mechanical in his delivery.
The gun slips from Vladimir's finger, falling between the two men. Judas retrieves it, never taking his eyes or his gun off his former boss.
"You gave me your goddamn word!"
“I lied,” comes Judas’ automatic response.
Eyes bugging out, Vladimir shoots out, ” You owe me this you son-of-a-bitch!"
“He doesn't deserve this!” Judas shouts over him, his tone deceptively unmarked by the growing confliction inside him. “Neither does his family."
“Fuck them! He took from me!” Vladimir points to Spencer who remains still with fear.
Placing Vladimir's gun in the back of his jeans, Judas’ stare never wavers. “He did what he had to. To save his family."
“So that's it?” Vladimir rages. “You're just gonna let this lying motherfucker go? That's not how I taught you to deal with things."
“Maybe I learned a few things on my own.”
“What happened to you, Judas?” Vladimir's voice dips.
Judas shrugs off the surprise hit of nostalgia. “People change."
“You don't. You never wanted to."
“Maybe I want to now,” Judas points out. “Maybe I've seen what a life outside our one can be like."
Vladimir eyes the gun, shifts nervously in place. Judas never thought he would see the day. The day when Vladimir Kulich would be scared shitless.
“You can't be serious?"
“All I know is you're not gonna make Belle fatherless,” Judas warns.
“So where’s that leave me?” Vladimir asks, his eyes trained on the gun as if it will go off at any second. "You're not… Judas, come on."
“I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this… I didn't..."
“That's it? That's it?!” Vladimir shrieks. “You're just gonna fucking end me?"
“I heard what you said about Belle and the rest of the Dela Cruzes,” Judas says, his voice becoming as dark as the night that encompasses them. "This fucking world needs people like Belle and less scum like us, Vladimir! Don’t you see? I can't let you live knowing you’ll come after her."
Judas watches Vladimir rummage for an excuse. “C’mon, man, I only said that to scare him. I didn't mean it."
“You're lying."
“Judas.” Vladimir's hands come up as if that lone gesture will explain away his behavior.
Fishing the keys from his pocket, Judas throws them at Spencer. They drop near his knee and Spencer picks them up, looking confused. ”Go to the car. Wait for me there," Judas orders, jerking his head in the direction of the vehicle that’s somewhere behind them, passed all the trees. Spencer doesn’t hesitate to move.
The echo of Spencer’s hurried steps linger musically around them. Vladimir wants to move, Judas can sense that. The older man’s whole face is an open book, a plethora of emotion: fear, anger, disbelief, pain, regret, loss, and hurt. Judas sees it all, unwilling, uncaring, but forces to partake in the moment with him.
Vladimir is after all the only father he's ever truly had. And what Judas has to do next… he knows it will scar him for life.
“You're gonna kill me?”
“You're not leaving me a choice,” Judas says in a voice laced with sorrow. He makes himself breathe, a dizzying sensation trapping itself in his body. “I'm... sorry."
Vladimir's shoulders straighten. “Fuck you. Your father was right in calling you Judas. I should’ve seen this coming.”
“I'm sorry,” Judas hears himself repeat a little louder as he cocks the gear back.
“You're gonna fucking pay for this,” Vladimir threatens. “Maybe not by me but you’re gonna drag that fucking bitch into this life and one way or the other, you’re gonna get her fucking killed—just like you got your mother killed!” Vladimir screams, coming a step closer to Judas, the leaves crunching beneath his shoes. “You’re all gonna fucking pay," he threatens in a haunting whisper.
The second Judas feels the slightest bit of doubt, he knows he can’t wait.
The single shot hits Vladimir right between the eyes. He goes down instantaneously. Flying back in the air from the force of the bullet, he lands in a thud on his back, sprawled out like the perfect white outline of a dead body in a crime scene.
Judas wipes his brow, the nausea in his stomach cramping him, sending him hunched forward on his knees. But he refuses to let this situation get the better of him. He isn’t going to fall, turn weak-kneed. He did what he had to do.
For Belle.
His face, inches from Vladimir's, stares back at the man. The man he had called his father, his friend, his confidante, his savior... is dead.
Vladimir’s face, in death, is peaceful. Maybe wherever Vladimir is now, he’s free from the demons that made him who he was. For some reason, Judas needs to believe that to walk away.
He notices a small grin on Vladimir's mouth, and suddenly he remembers his last words.
Pay.
Judas knows he’s going to pay.
He already is.
And what he has to do next, with Belle, is only going to bring down a world of hurt.
Chapter Forty-Two
HE DOESN’T LIKE HOW HE FEELS. All garbled, like his brain has been sucked out of his ear with a straw.
Judas guesses killing the man he idolized since he was seven, the man who saved him from his abusive smack-head father, the man who avenged his mother, could be the cause. But if he’s halfway truthful with himself, it has a lot more to do with what comes next.
Judas turns the wheel and enters the abandoned airstrip. Spencer Dela Cruz hasn’t said a single word. Good. Right now he needs a little bit of peace.
A small black Lincoln is parked behind the side of the building with the headlights off. The doors swing open and Tate steps out first. Belle appears from the passenger seat. She closes the door, places one han
d on the roof of the car, and a stalemate emotion scatters across her face. The mother is holding the baby, his little feet latch around the side of her torso and he’s playing with the front button of her shirt. They walk forward, but then begin to pick up the pace.
Belle stays back. Even when her father opens the door and the rest of the family meet up to welcome one another. Judas watches Belle, his eyes darting to the rest of them to see the reunion. It takes a few minutes before any of them realize Belle is not with them. Spencer parts the small huddle of people, stepping reluctantly her way. Belle smiles a teary smile, her eyes soaking him in as though wanting to believe he’s real, but too scared to give in to her wish. But when her father's arms spread out from his side, the gesture must have been too much, because Belle hurries forward, closing the distance. Judas sees the tears stream down her face as she kisses his cheek and her father cups her face.
Belle is finally home. Where she belongs.
His reluctance plays over him making it hard for Judas to concentrate. Leaning against the side of the truck, away from the private family moment, Judas stays planted in the shadows. He can’t watch their intimate reunion anymore. The sentiment, the pure emotions, gnaw at his gut.
He isn’t a part of Belle and her family, and even though he hasn’t interrupted in any way, just standing there observing them feels wrong somehow.
Like he is... an intruder.
So he backs off into the shadows away from the spotlight and lets them have their moment. They deserve the solace of their rejoining and Judas won't let his presence be a burden over them; a dark cloud that dampens what’s supposed to be a bright occasion. He tends to bring the worst out of people and he doesn’t want that for Belle. He never wants that for her.
Driving his hand through his hair, Judas sighs taking in the weight of his shoulders; never letting him forget that he still has his dangerous life to live once the goodbyes are said. People will be looking to him now, wondering who's in charge, now that the great Vladimir Kulich is dead. Most likely, it will be him.
What the fuck am I doing?
He squeezes the ends of his brows with the tips of his fingers, massaging the aching flesh. Judas knows exactly what he's doing. But he's petrified of what he has to do next...
He’s never going to look down into those big beautiful eyes that suck him in like the force of gravity. He’s never going to hear her laugh, never going to see her blush. He’s never going to make love to her, be inside her body and discover all the things he’s missed in his need to just be in her.
Jesus Christ, he’s a fucking idiot.
He should never have touched her. He should never have laid one hand on her delicate body. What was he thinking? When the hell did he think this was going to be easy?
“Judas."
The supple calling of his name utters from Belle’s mouth, sends his emotions into overdrive, momentarily blanketing all other thoughts. His body whips around, caught-off-guard. He stares at her as she moves forward, and the small steps she takes propel him into motion. He forgets about what he’s supposed to say, what he’s supposed to do, drinking in the sight of her. All of her. He takes her in, inch by inch, hurried only by the compelling need to feel her in his arms.
One. Last. Time.
Belle stops a foot in front of him, seeming to do the same thing he’s doing. Her stare wanders over him, her eyes cast in shadows, coinciding with a happiness that makes the green in her eyes blur, and sparkle like sapphires under light.
She always glows from the inside out…
Intimately, predatorily, his steely blue eyes travel over her. Is she hurt? Will she lie to him? But when she gifts him with a slight smile, he removes the distance between them. Neither touches one another, though.
“Hey,” she breathes out. She swallows, he watches her cute little muscles in her neck and his heart thumps harder for a beat. “Are you… okay?" Her eyes darken as he leans forward. “Judas?” Her finger trails the lines of his jaw. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have thought you could…” She lets go of him completely, starts to back away, but he clasps her wrist gently with his hold and leaves her locked to him. “I can't believe… Judas, I thought that of you..."
“It's okay.”
She shakes her head, angling it down slightly, but her eyes gaze into his. “No... No it’s not.” Her voice is thick with remorse. “I should have trusted you. Believed in you.”
"Stop, Belle.” He cups her cheek, knowing he shouldn't, but he has to. She needs him. And he can't fight the instinct to give himself to her in any way she needs. His thumb finds the corner of her lips, smoothes down the indent that shapes the sexiness of her mouth. “Stop.”
She pushes his hand away. “My father told me what happened.” She scans Judas for a reaction, but he can’t let her in any more than he already has. “Mr. Kulich is… dead. He said you killed him."
His eyes frost over, the blue morph into tiny icicles. Judas clears the residue from his throat. “Did he hurt you at all? Touch you?"
“Judas,” she protests, her brow curving.
His one-track mind dismisses her attempt at skirting the issue. “Belle. Answer me," he grinds out.
“I already told you no,” she says, twisting her wrist to break contact, only to link her fingers with his. “I'm okay."
“I wasn't sure if you were lying or not,” he replies, mad at himself that he hasn’t been able to tell on his own whether she’s okay or not. He doesn’t like knowing he can’t read her. It makes him feel powerless. “Vladimir—I knew he was forcing you to say what he wanted you to."
“I was okay, just scared.” She's disregarding him too lightly for his liking. “I thought you could tell when I was lying."
He looks sideways from her, his sharp profile hammering a message that he’s mad, but it's aimed only at him. “Your head was down... I couldn't tell,” he murmurs, barely audible. “It bothered me that you wouldn't look at me."
“I couldn't.” She gazes at him, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward her. “I felt like if I did, you'd be able to see how terrified I was and then you'd do something crazy. I didn't want you to get hurt... because of me..."
His throaty chuckle resonates with an ache. "Always thinking about everyone else's feelings except yours."
“For goodness sakes, Judas—I didn't want anything to happen to you because of me."
His glare comes down hard on her, blacking out the light in his eyes all together. "This was my fault, my problem."
“Don’t, Judas, you already said you were sorry a hundred times,” she says, her voice rising in a quake. “Don't say it again."
“I let him take you," he says, the drop of his voice, silky and heady, unravels the stir of anger.
“Judas,” she responds on a sigh. It has the power to stroke away the stiffness in his body. He tugs her closer and Belle follows willingly, both in servitude to the emotions wrapping them in place and drowning out everything else.
His hands memorize the porcelain flesh of her cheeks, the tips moving deftly slow in their exploration. He ends up with his hands cupping behind her ears, his two fingers nipping gently at the dangling curve of her earlobe. He senses her breathing heightening.
“I promise I won’t leave your side ever again," she says, her sultry mumble holding him in place. And then he remembers everything. He remembers why he’s still here. And what he must do.
At all costs.
Judas lets go of her face, but doesn’t back away, peeking over her head to nothing in the distance. "Doesn’t matter," he mumbles.
“I know you didn't plan this... Killing Mr. Kulich, I mean,” she goes on, unaware of why he’s withdrawn from her. “Your mother… This must be hard for you.”
You’ve got no idea…
“Don’t, Belle… I'm fine.” He scratches the side of his nose. She tilts his chin down in her direction, giving him a direct but empathetic look.
“No. You're not."
She can see r
ight through him; the only woman who has ever been able to do that with him. And all he wants to do is tell her about his beautiful mother. But he releases her, glaring in her general direction, not really looking at her. He can feel himself giving in to her. But he must stay cold. It's the only way he can do this.
“Don't tell me how I feel, Belle,” he says in a clipped tone, but it does little to deter her efforts.
“Stop pushing me away then.”
“It doesn't matter."
“Do you ever grow sick of hearing yourself say that? Because I'm sick of it. Of course it matters, Judas.” She sighs, her breath shaky. "Your feelings matter. They matter to me. I don't like seeing you like this. You try to pretend you're all right but I know you're not. Please...” She reaches for his hand. He backs away. "You can trust me."
He fights the stabs knifing at his vocal chords. “It's got nothing to do with trust."
“Then what?"
“Belle...” His voice dwindles, winding down like a dying man on the verge of his last breath. “You know why."
Belle searches his face for answers, but he refuses to give. She shakes her head. “I thought I did, but I don’t. Not anymore. Not after everything you’ve done for me."
He turns into a machine in front of her, a sheen of steel eclipsing his dark stare, shading his true emotions from view. “What happened between us is over now."
“‘Over’...” she repeats the word like it's foreign to her ears.
“Yeah.” He watches her reaction under the glare of his deepened brow. Her emotions switch from disbelief to anger, then back to disbelief, a gray reflecting off her pale skin. But she never looks away from him.
“So it's over…? Just like that?" Her mouth shifts and her emerald eyes begin to ripple. “Wow—how do you do that?"
He shrugs, not understanding. “What?”
“Snap your fingers,” she replies, her fury making a leap into outrage. "Make yourself believe what you're saying."
“Just stop,” he says, keeping his cool demeanor in place.
