Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“IRIS” BY TOMMEE PROFITT, RUELLE
ROMAN
T he beat of the music flows around me, but it can’t offer its usual comfort. Not now that she’s not here with me, sharing her light, chasing away all the darkness. We’re at Depravity, and Tommee Profitt is playing a set, something that I’ve been looking forward to since fuck knows how long.
But it’s like the world turned grey, as if someone sucked out all the colour and life the moment she was taken, and when we discovered what she’s going through, what that cunt, Sergi, is doing to her…something inside me died.
I swirl my drink around in its crystal glass, the clear liquid reflecting the lights that pulse around us. The club is packed, the VIP area full, but as I look around our booth, I see Hunt and my brother both staring into their own drinks, and I know we will not be okay until she’s back with us.
The lights go dark as the opening strains of “Iris” start up, Ruelle’s haunting voice making tears prick my eyes. Fuck, it hurts so badly not having her here. Knowing that we failed to protect her is like a wound that won’t heal, that will fester and bleed out, but never give me the relief of death.
“Why so glum, boys?” A thick, Irish accent breaks into my maudlin thoughts, and I glance up to find Uncle Michael—or Fingers as he’s known by, which I’ve never questioned the reason why because he’s family and no one needs to know that shit—taking a seat across the table from us, his red hair wild and his thick, tattooed forearms bulging from his rolled-up shirtsleeves. Michael O’Sullivan is mine and Rowan’s uncle, our Ma’s brother, and when he finally found out about us after Ma passed away when we were eighteen, he contacted us. It was too late by then to take us in. We were adults and living with Hunter, fully fledged Shadowmen, but he introduced us to the family, who had made peace with our Da’s family, the O’Brians, so we got them too. Our connection to the two Irish mobster families has come in handy more than once. It was why we thought we’d be safe from Sergi. More fucking fool us.
“Nothing we can’t handle, Fingers,” I say, not sure how much Hunt wants us to share about our current predicament. We may be in with our family, but that doesn’t mean we trust them. He turns his gaze to Hunt.
“I heard those Russians stole yer pretty new wife, Hunter,” he muses, and the tension at our table thickens to choking point. “It’s not right, taking a man’s lady like that. Not gentlemanly.” I narrow my eyes at the big man, wondering what his angle is, what he’s trying to say. Then he looks at me. “Did I ever introduce you ta yer cousin, Azazel?”
A hush falls over the VIP area, the crowds parting as three men come towards us, and my heartbeat thunders inside my chest as I realise who they are. The Fallen, part of the Enlightened, a not so secret society that rules the fucking world near enough. They have members in every government, every country in the world, and every echelon of society. There are several groups that make up the Enlightened, the Fallen being one who deals in information and favours.
He can’t mean that one of them is our cousin, right?
Hunt straightens in his seat next to me as the men approach, all three dressed head to toe in black and wearing black masks that cover half their faces. That’s another thing about them. No one knows exactly who they are because when they’re together like this, they cover their faces.
The one in the lead, a tall man with skin that looks dark in the lowlights of the club, steps up to the table, taking a seat next to Fingers. Lucifer is his name, my mind supplies. They all have names of fallen angels, taking them when they pass the trials that are brutal as fuck.
“Hunter Anderson, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he purrs, his deep voice washing over me and sending fucking shivers down my spine. The other two men, one with hair that looks black and the other with almost silver hair, stands behind him, flanking his back.
“Likewise, Lucifer,” Hunt says, setting his glass down on the table. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Whatever you’re having looks good,” Lucifer replies, and Hunt signals the waitress over, who is already bringing Hunt’s favourite whiskey and three more glasses. “May I introduce Azazel and Belial?” Hunt nods at the men standing at Lucifer’s back, and they nod back, but I focus on trying to work out who is who.
“Azazel, meet your cousins, Roman and Rowan Kent,” Lucifer says, his lips tilted in a smirk as if he has known the connection all along and is enjoying revealing the secret.
“Nice to meet you, boys,” the dark-haired one states, his Irish accent unmistakable.
“You too,” I reply, glancing at Rowan, who is staring at the guy in that way he does, dissecting him, trying to work out what makes him tick. It’s unnerving as fuck, but Azazel’s lips twitches, like he finds it amusing.
“Of course, tonight wasn’t just about a family reunion,” Lucifer interjects, his voice devoid of any emotion.
“Of course,” Hunter adds, his face a mask and unreadable as he doesn’t take his eyes off Lucifer.
“We’d like to extend an invasion to the three of you, to a poker game that we are holding in a couple of weeks time,” Lucifer tells us, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a black envelope with gold details that sparkle when the lights hit them.
He extends his hand out to Hunter, who takes the envelope and opens it, pulling out a single piece of black card, also with gold foiling. Something else falls from the envelope, and my insides twist even before my mind has fully caught up with what it is. A perfectly dried iris flower sits on the glass table, its colours dull but bright enough to still make me sure what the flower is.
I snap my head back to Lucifer, who is sitting there with a half smirk on his face, like he knows the bomb he’s just dropped on us.
“What is this?” Hunt asks, his voice dark and full of a menace that usually has people pissing their pants. Lucifer just smiles, inclining his head.
“I think you know,” he states, then gets up. “We don’t take IOU’s on the night. You play with what you have on your person, so make sure you bring enough.”
My skin tingles and sweat beads along my spine when Lucifer turns his back on us and strides away.
“See you there, Col Gaolta ,” Azazel says before following him, the silver-haired one, Belial, walking after them.
I glance back down at the flower, then up at Hunter’s swirling eyes.
“Does this mean she’ll be there?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I hardly dare utter the words, as if by saying them I’m jinxing something.
“Perhaps,” Hunt replies, looking at me, his jaw working as he thinks. “But why would they do this? What is their price?”
“Ya won’t know until they tell ya, lad,” Fingers interjects, and I blink, having forgotten he was even there. “The question you should ask yerself, is what are ya willing ta pay ta get her back?”
I lock eyes with Hunter first, then Rowan, and I know mine have the same answer in them.
Anything. Everything.
We would pay whatever it takes to get Iris back, to have her with us where she belongs.
“GET YOU THE MOON (FEAT SN?W)” BY KINA
IRIS
Nik and I spent as long as we could in the woods on the Petrov Estate, just soaking in each other’s presence. It felt so damn good to have his arms around me, to allow myself to sink into him and just forget all the shit that I’ve had to go through lately.
Like all dreams though, I had to wake up, and my stomach growls as we head back towards the mansion when the sun is high in the sky. Nik lets go of my hand just before we leave the tree line and my heart aches at the loss. I know we will have lots of eyes on us, but I still yearn for his touch, even knowing that it could sign our death warrants.
“Let’s have lunch together, Malyshka ,” Nik suggests under his breath, his husky voice sending goosebumps across my skin. “Sergi is out on business and he said I can spend some time with you, so it won’t be suspicious.”
Knowing our time together isn’t quite at an end eases the pain inside of me as we make our way inside and towards the dining room, seeing only a few of Sergi’s men along the way. They all incline their heads to Nik in respect, some lower than others, and I wonder if those men are more loyal to him than his father. Will they support him when the time comes for him to take over?
Nik pulls my chair out for me when we reach the dining room, but unlike this morning, he sits next to me, Andrei and Dima sitting across from us. As the door opens, the smell of freshly cooked steak fills the room, instantly making my mouth water, and the servant places a plate of the most delicious food before me.
I look at Nik with wide eyes as I notice the huge portion in front of me, which includes my favourite sweet potato fries. “Sergi has me on a very strict diet. I’m usually only allowed a salad at lunch, Nik,” I whisper once the servers leave, shutting the door behind them.
Nik’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring. “Eat your lunch, Moy Solntse .”
A shiver races across my skin, but unlike the times when Sergi has ordered me, I don’t mind when Nik does it. In fact, there’s a comfort in his command, a permission to let go and trust that in this one thing, he’s got me. A low moan falls from my lips at the first bite, and a deep chuckle from across me has my gaze finding Andrei.
“You keep making noises like that, Zaya , and Nikolai won’t be able to leave the table when we’re done.” He chuckles and my cheeks heat as I glance at Nik, his deep brown eyes full of a banked heat that leaves me breathless.
Tears make my eyes sting, and I have to blink furiously to stop them from falling as I swallow the delicious meat. Knowing that he still wants me in that way, after everything his father has done to me, it soothes some of the wounds that are festering inside my soul. His brows dip down in a frown, his own lunch untouched as he gazes at me.
“What’s wrong, Dorogaia ?” he questions, his voiced pained like he hates seeing me sad.
“Y–you still want me? Even after…” I can’t bear to finish the sentence, the trauma too fresh, too horrific to speak aloud.
His hands clench into fists on the table, his body almost vibrating as he holds himself back. “I will never stop wanting you in every way.” His words are said through clenched teeth, but I know it’s not anger at me he’s feeling. It’s at his father, at this awful situation that we’re in. “Nothing will make me desire you any less, Iris.”
I lose my battle with my tears—I’m so fucking weepy since he came back—and one traces a burning path down my cheek. His hand unclenches, his fingers brushing the tear off my cheek as his eyes swirl with a mix of rage and agony. I want to take it away from him, but I’m drowning in my own, both of us barely able to tread water as we navigate this storm.
“Eat now, Dorogaia ,” he commands, and I sniffle, turning my attention back to my meal. Things might be fucked right now, but just maybe, it won’t be like this forever. Perhaps there is light somewhere at the end of this dark and gloomy tunnel. We just have to hold out long enough to see it.
After lunch, Nik leads me upstairs to my room, his hand a comforting warmth on my lower back as we stop in front of my door.
“My room is just next door,” he tells me softly, Dima and Andrei shielding us from the view of any of Sergi’s men who are always hanging around, watching. “This is my wing.”
My eyes widen, my mind going straight to what happens nightly with Sergi’s visits. At least he’s stopped bringing in some of his men to hold me down since I stopped fighting him, just laying there and trying to escape what my body is going through. It’s comforting yet horrifying knowing that Nik will be on the other side of the wall, unable to stop it but helping me through it in a way.
His fingers brush mine as my thoughts race, and I look into his eyes, seeing the pain in their depths that matches what I feel.
“There are servant doors that connect all the rooms. I’ll come and visit you later, okay?” His voice is raspy, like the words hurt leaving his throat. We both know that he means after his father has taken what he does every night.
“Okay, Nik,” I murmur back, wishing I could just lean into him, let him wrap his arms around me, and take away the nightmare to come.
But wishes are the dreams of innocents, of children who have never seen the monster that hides under the bed and never met the devils that plague our world. They have no place in my life right now, so I heave a sigh and turn around, opening my door and allowing him to lock it behind me. This is my life now, in my opulent cage.
I may be allowed to spread my wings a few times a day, but the freedom is taunting and false, for I always end up back here, in a place that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I press my back against the wooden door, sliding down it until I’m sitting on the thick carpet, my arms wrapped around my knees as I allow the tears to freely fall and sob for all the things that have been taken from me.