Chapter 26 Little Sister
Little Sister
Roman
Falling. That's the only way I could describe what was happening to me and inside me. Isla was an angel whose orbit I fell into, fast and hard, without any way to stop myself.
I was fucking crazy about her.
Her body, her mind, her soul, her smile, her touch, her eyes, her whole aura…obliterated everything I knew to be right and wrong and overtook every millimeter of my existence.
At the same time, the truth tormented me—I was not good for her.
I was a criminal. I was a killer, and Isla had no idea.
Perhaps I could forever hide it from her.
Perhaps I could give it all up in a few years, and she would never know.
The thought of her leaving me sent real, genuine fear through my heart. I couldn't live without her.
She embodied the perfect dream. She was everything to me.
After Sergei threatened her, I was no longer on speaking terms with him. Our friendship was no more; everything between us was ruined, and Denis was stuck in the middle. But I didn't care. I only cared about her.
Isla was kind, loving, and gentle. I’d often wondered about the kind of upbringing she’d had—one without trauma.
She treated me like I was a good person and spoke only kind words.
She took care of me. She wanted to make sure that I was happy.
Fuck. I'd never had any girlfriend do that for me.
Every single one used me and treated me like a bank.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Isla asked after dinner while her head was on my lap. I had an inkling as to what she wanted to know. I never wanted to talk about it, but with her, I was ready to share anything. "What happened to your sister?"
There it was. Claudio talked about her today too—it was that kind of day.
Isla must have guessed it was painful for me to speak about it and delayed asking for as long as she could.
I intertwined my fingers with hers, grounding myself in all the good that I had in my life before answering, "She was raped and killed. Five years ago."
Isla sat up quickly, her worried gaze burrowing into mine. "I'm so, so sorry." Her pure heart and genuine empathy tugged at all the strings in my soul. "Was the guy who lived in that house...responsible?" she asked timidly.
"He was the one who did it, but he wasn't the one who ordered the job."
"I mean, I think burning his apartment down was pretty justifiable,” Isla said slowly and shrugged casually, surprising me with her words. "Who ordered the…job?"
And that was a great fucking question. After today’s conversation with Claudio, it all turned over in my mind without pause. Did I really fuck up? I pondered what to tell her but then decided I was ready to spill the details.
"After it happened, I, ugh…I was very depressed and didn’t act in time.
For months, I stayed in bed.” Isla held my hand and nodded, her compassion allowing me to open up.
“I was so tortured thinking about everything that happened to her that I let a lot of time go by before I began looking for the one responsible.
Coincidentally, someone came to see me today and put everything that happened into question.
I thought I got the one who was responsible, but they straight up told me I made a mistake. "
Talking through it kind of felt like I was working on connecting the dots, to use Claudio's words.
"What did they say?"
"He said that sometimes, the most obvious is in front of us, but we get so used to the landscape that we don't notice it.
But he also said he had no evidence, so…
" I trailed off, squeezing my eyes with my fingers.
"What happened to your brother?" I wanted to switch the subject and also find out what she was willing to share.
"Don't you already know?" she replied, her tone playful and light, bringing a smile to both our faces. "Sounds like you somehow know everything, without even having to ask."
"Nah, I just know a few facts."
She sighed before starting the sad story.
"He was diagnosed with stage four bone cancer, and he just..
.faded away. He was only three years older than me.
It was too late to do anything, and treatments made him feel worse.
" She traced the inside of my palm, as if distracting herself.
“And my parents died in a car accident…on the way to see him.
And then he passed away two weeks later so…
I know what it feels like to not be able to get out of bed. "
Damn, Isla. She was only twenty-five, but it's like she’d lived three lives already. I settled her in my lap, her body melting into mine. “I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
There was nothing either one of us could say to each other. The tragedies lived inside us, coloring the world in a gray filter.
Just together like this, we sat quietly, and she listened to my heartbeat until she had another question. “Do you have any new suspicions about who did it?"
"No.” I shook my head, pressing her into me tighter. “He said someone had his eye on her. Someone who knew they wouldn't fall under suspicion or was crazy enough to risk it. He thought it was one of my guys."
"What was your sister’s name?" Isla asked gently.
"Natalia. She wasn’t like me. She was lovely."
"You're lovely too!" Isla came to my defense with enthusiasm, all of me lighting up in a smile.
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “You don’t know anything about me.”
"Mmm...I know you wanted to watch someone burn alive.” Her pure eyes found mine, a spark in them. “That sounds pretty sick. And from there, I feel like I can extrapolate."
"Yeah? What are your extrapolations telling you?" My smile widened, and I lifted her up so she could straddle me.
Spending time with her was a gift from God.
"Let's see. You seem very trusting.” Her fingers traced my cheek, making my eyes flutter closed.
“You left me all alone in your house before even knowing who the hell I was. Maybe I would have robbed you?” She giggled so close to my ear.
“You also seem to think that you're some sort of monster who's not deserving of love, but that’s not true.” Her arms around my neck now, my hands settled on her asscheeks, the ones I so loved to kiss and bite.
“It seems that...you had some shit happen to you.
I don't know what happened to your parents, but I feel like they're not just happily retired somewhere, waiting for grandkids.
Lastly, I don't know a lot about your friends, but what I do know...makes me think they’re not quality people. "
She hit it all on the nose, and the truth was difficult to hear.
"My parents aren’t happily retired, you're right.” I played with a strand of her hair, not wanting to meet her gaze.
“They divorced a few years after coming here, and my dad went back to Russia, breaking off all contact with us.
Then my mom caught pneumonia and passed away.
..because she didn't have medical insurance and never went to the doctor.” I looked anywhere but at her, eager to just say everything that I wanted.
“I was fifteen and my sister was ten, and that’s when I really started selling drugs and whatnot.
Either that or Natasha and I would have been separated and sent God knows where.
For years, we pretended that my mom was alive so no one would find out and place us in foster care. "
There were only two people who knew the extent of it all—Denis and Sergei. I had never shared it with any woman I dated.
Isla sat on me, frozen and stunned, lost for words. But then she leaned in and pressed me into her hug, taking long inhales with me. She felt like medicine.
"Wow. I thought I had it rough." Her tender fingers ghosted on my lips. "I'm so sorry. That sounds absolutely awful,” she whispered, her eyes only a few inches away from mine, wet with tears.
Her light kisses—on my cheeks, on my forehead, on my lips…mended my wounds. It was always painful to even think about it, but with her by my side, it was no longer sharp like always.
"No one knows, except Denis and Sergei," I confessed.
Slowly, Isla paused and pulled away from me, her expression confused. A few seconds of silence ticked by, but then—
"Has Sergei ever hurt a woman who was with you?" She breathed out, her cheeks visibly turning red.
"Um, no. Why would you think that?"
"I just remembered...he said, just like his other one, when he was, um…telling me he was going to find me a-alone. What does that mean?" Her eyes on mine, panic swirled inside her beautiful irises.
“What? What did he say?” I double-checked. She recounted his threat, nervously playing with the hem of my shirt, her breath hitching in her throat.
I was speechless. What other one? What does his other one mean?
Obviously, something that's mine. My mind worked a mile a minute.
Sergei had threatened Isla with rape—a very fucked up and serious act.
I didn't even have any regular women in my life; who could he possibly be referring to?
And on top of all that, he had been married for five years.
Sergei had always been with me; I’d known him since I was a little kid. But as soon as I thought that…it all started to piece together in my head.
Sergei was always with me. Right in front of me. The only other woman in my life that was around consistently was...Natasha. Claudio's words rushed back to me as I sat on the couch and stared at Isla, totally mute.
What if she caught someone's eye?
Someone who knew they wouldn’t fall under suspicion or someone truly fucked in the head. Or both.
Think about who that might have been. Or is.
No one was crazy enough to do that.
We don't notice when something’s off.
One man, Roman...