Chapter Twelve
A s with all things in the kingdom of Kivr, luxury met lethality in the Department of Defense's interrogation room. Marble walls and floors, steel-legged chairs with built-in shackles, and metal doors with automated retina-scanning locks.
On one side of the table was Viktor, his knife wound now expertly bandaged, his clothes still bloodstained. And seated across him was Giancarlo, whose dark good looks were still the perfect foil for Viktor's angelic blondness.
One of the department officials came in to ask for Viktor's written confession, and it was as if Giancarlo was looking at a complete stranger as he read some of the things Viktor was writing. He could never have imagined that someone he considered his closest friend was capable of such vileness. And an equally painful pill to swallow was how he had been completely unaware of such things happening.
The department official presented another document, which required Viktor to identify all the other individuals involved in the human trafficking ring he had been a part of. The other man did so without question, and it was only when they were alone again that Viktor finally looked up to meet Giancarlo's gaze.
"I'm sorry it came to this."
Viktor's words made it seem as if he was only guilty of tripping Giancarlo up instead of arranging for his murder. But for some reason, Giancarlo knew his friend's apology - albeit inadequately worded - was sincere.
But even so.
"You were a good man once." Giancarlo's tone was more weary than furious. "So what went wrong?"
A humorless smile twisted over Viktor's lips. "The thing about sin? It starts with good intentions."
And because Giancarlo had known the other man his entire life, it was painfully easy for him to deduce what Viktor was referring to.
"Someone found out about your half-sisters."
"You understand then...why I had to do what I did."
"You should've come to me," Giancarlo exploded.
"I didn't want you involved—-"
"But you saw nothing wrong in having me murdered?"
"That's another thing about sin that you only learn when it's too late," Viktor said tonelessly. "You start with little half-truths that you use to convince yourself you're doing nothing wrong. You tell yourself there's a line you won't cross. But that line keeps moving until the next you know, there's no way out."
Giancarlo searched his heart for any sign of bitterness or anger. But all he felt was the weight of remorse. It didn't have to be this way, and they both knew it. All Viktor had to do was ask for His help. And everything would've changed. But now it was too late to simply forgive and forget...since so many other lives had been lost and ruined.
"You know what your choices are," Giancarlo said grimly. "And regardless of what your choice may be...I'll take care of your sisters."
"Their lives would have been better off if they had you as a brother instead of me."
Giancarlo shook his head. "You know that's not—-"
"We both know I was never honorable like you," Viktor gritted out. "I only pretended to be because I wanted to stay as your friend. This—- " Viktor's lip curled with self-contempt. "This is the real me, Giancarlo. Sarica's like a fucking sister to me, but all I could think about was hurting her to hurt you. I just took one look at you, and I hated you for always having the balls to do what's good. I blamed you for how my life turned out even when you had nothing to do with my choices."
Viktor's gaze fell on the small vial on the table.
"I fucked up. And fucked up other people's lives as well. And I'm feeling surprisingly relieved that I have no choice but to pay for it now."
Viktor had already made his move before he had even finished speaking. He had drunk the entire vial in one go, and with this, he had made his choice.
Giancarlo slowly rose to his feet. Viktor was now slumped in his chair, unconscious. The next time he woke up, he would not be behind bars. Instead, as his choice indicated, he would find himself without any memories of his old life...and on a remote island whose population of deadly beasts was no accident.
Giancarlo left the room without conscious direction, his mind tormented by his childhood days with Viktor and what could have been...if the other man had simply gotten past his pride to ask for help. By the time his steps came to a halt, it was only then that Giancarlo realized how his subconscious had taken him back to Sarica's suite. He considered knocking but changed his mind at the last second. But just as he was about to turn away, the door opened, and Giancarlo found himself staring straight into Sarica's eyes.
She had changed out of her clothes from earlier and looked fresh out of the shower. And even though she had almost lost her life, Giancarlo couldn't remember seeing her more beautiful, courageous, and at peace...despite the sadness in her eyes.
"May I come in?" he heard himself ask.
She nodded and stepped back, and Giancarlo closed the door behind him. But when he turned to face her again, it seemed as if she already knew why he had come.
"You've come to say goodbye...haven't you?"
Her voice was quiet and strained.
Giancarlo's jaw clenched. "You know I have to—-"
"Don't lie," Sarica rejected fiercely. "Just don't. No one is forcing you to leave. No one is asking you to. No one wants you to—-"
"I can't be the head of our famiglia—-"
"Because of your limp?" Sarica challenged tremulously.
"Yes!"
"Can you hear yourself, Giancarlo? Can you, really? Wouldn't that also mean we only wanted you as our leader because you can walk a straight line—-"
"Don't twist my words, Sarica. You know what I mean. I couldn't even save you, Sarica. I promised to save you. Just like I promised and failed my own father and grandfather—-"
"Why do you keep blaming yourself whenever bad things happen?" Sarica choked out. "Don't we know better by now? Shouldn't we know better? It's not your job to save everyone—-"
"I just wanted to save you," he said bitterly, "and I couldn't even do it—-"
"Because you weren't meant to save me," Sarica cried out, "and I wasn't meant to save myself!" Frustration colored her words. "You know the truth, Giancarlo. You were the one who helped me see this, remember?"
All Giancarlo did was stare at her, and Sarica could feel her heart start to break when she realized she wasn't reaching him at all.
"You're not God, Giancarlo," Sarica whispered. "So stop trying to do the impossible. Stop trying to c-carry everyone's b-burdens on your shoulders. All you're supposed to do is l-love me. Love me, Giancarlo. Just l-love me—-"
But the man in front of her seemed to be made of unyielding stone, unable to hear a single word she was saying.
"Please, Giancarlo."
"I'm sorry."
Her heart shattered anew at the finality of his voice, and she couldn't stop herself from stumbling forward as she clutched his shirt to keep him from leaving. "P-Please—-"
But her words continued to fall on deaf ears as Giancarlo pulled away from her hold.
"I can't bear having another death on my conscience, Sarica. I'm sorry."
The last thing Giancarlo saw was Sarica falling to her knees as he forced himself to walk away.
He tried to convince himself that this was the last time he would have anything to do with his old life...only to find himself face to face with his grandmother, whose expression made clear she had heard every word.
"Oh, bambino ." Potenziana's voice shook. "Are you going to walk away from us, too? Do you really think we will only want you back if you are capable of protecting us? We love you, Giancarlo. That is why we want you back. And we all m-missed you s-so much."
It was his first time hearing his grandmother's voice crack, and Giancarlo could not have stopped himself from pulling her into his arms no more than he could stop himself from breathing.
"You are one of us, bambino ," she whispered against his chest. "Always are, always will be."