Chapter 4. #2
The thought weighs down on me in tandem with the cold night air as Wesley nods his head to the guards at the outer gate.
The tall, wide black metal is the ‘official’ way in and out of the Taiga household, but it’s only used when you want to be seen coming in and out.
It’s a formality to avoid raising suspicion, but even the cops know they’re more likely to walk on the moon than get this far into our territory…
because we own the entire neighbourhood.
One hundred and fifty acres filled only with our people.
One hundred and fifty acres of eyes and ears that we control.
The Taiga estate is set quite a ways away from the other residences, separated by a polished, black metal gate that towers over our vehicle by at least ten feet.
Textured brick walls extend from the gate to the left and right, which encircle the entire property on the map, and the moment the guards recognise us and our vehicle, the wide gate swings open to reveal a single path with spruce trees on either side for half a mile.
Abuelita thought having a forest as a border was romantic, so Abuelito was more than happy to appease her; he bought the property before she could blink twice.
I can only imagine the things it has seen over three generations, but though it has a way of spooking most of our men, I’ve always found it reassuring.
These trees are ten times older than I am. And when I die, they’ll surely be around ten times longer.
Our path is blocked by a smaller version of the outer gate, but instead of brick walls on either side, there is only slatted wooden fencing around the property.
We send our men to patrol the inner and outer walls every morning and evening to look for any signs of break-ins, but in truth, nothing gets past the cameras that are spaced out evenly along the wall’s face.
Not to mention the traps placed all throughout the forest that can be activated with the single touch of a button.
Needless to say, you needed to make a few friends in Aster’s security if you wanted some fun time in the forest at night.
The guards at the second booth nod when they recognize me, and the inner gate opens without delay to reveal the Taiga estate, seven thousand square feet of traditional beauty, wood and wall structures of all sizes, complete with a backyard lake and various warehouses.
The pinnacle of society.
There are several lights on inside, but I can only guess who’s home tonight. The windows are all designed so that others can’t pry in, even with a forest separating us from the rest of the neighbourhood.
I’m already imagining the warm shower that’ll rinse the stiffness from my bones and chase away the flaky sensation of dried blood.
When Wesley drives around the large island of plants and flowers to stop in front of the porch entrance, I’m hopping out of the vehicle before it can stop completely and moving around to Gabriel’s side to help move him.
“I can do the rest,” Gabriel stops me with a soft voice.
He’d woken up sometime during the drive, and thanks to Xavier’s skills, his wound had finally stopped bleeding beneath the new bandages.
I know his pride is wounded since he’s the only one who was injured, but I don’t see any bitterness or frustration in his energy.
Just a brave expression that makes me feel slightly proud.
“You’ve gotta talk to Aster and Baal,” he reminds me.
Right. Because the wicked never get a chance to sleep.
I size him up just in case to make sure he’s sure, before nodding, “Okay.” I tap my knuckles on his chest lightly, “Fix yourself up good. I’ll take care of Aster and Baal.” I glance at Christian, “Tobias and Xavier will show you to a room.”
“… Yes, sir.”
I’d ignored him the entire ride after the shootout, but in the few moments I’d taken my eyes off him, doubt and sadness filtered into his usually pretty energy.
Even his inexpressive mask has cracked to expose flickers of uncertainty in his eyes and it drives my next words past my lips before I can stop them.
“I heard you’ve lived in Portland all your life. You’ve never left?”
When he meets my eyes, his inexpressive mask has slipped right back on again, but the hesitation is there in his energy, “No, sir.”
I think I dislike his expressionless face the most. That and this sudden ‘sir’. Even the sadness I’d glimpsed was ten times better than the stone wall staring back at me… but at least the sad blues in his energy can’t be hidden.
It’s the only real glimpse I have of the man Dahlia calls Christian Adler.
“Then I’ll show you around the place. Though I wouldn’t recommend unpacking just yet. Aster has to approve you first.”
The only change on Christian’s face is the barely narrowing of his eyes, but his energy flares with new ire and I can’t help the upward curve of my lips at the sight of it.
You didn’t think it’d be that easy to join my team, did you, estrellito?
I tap my palm on the vehicle door in goodbye before turning away to ascend the porch steps. Two guards are there to open the double doors without my having to slow down.
My eldest brother, Aster is already walking down the long corridor towards me, his two personal guards behind him, and the moment he looks up from his phone and spots me, he stops.
Aster’s always been the most frightening of the Taiga siblings, but never from obvious things like his tall build or the tattoos of roses and tigers along the sleeves of his arms. People aren’t afraid of his handsome features, his slender nose, long face or high cheekbones, or even the way he styles his blue-black hair, one side slicked back with an unfathomable amount of gel while the other curls on the side of his face.
They’re afraid of his eyes. Eyes that are so depthless, you become convinced that hiding is useless.
You’re afraid of the complete indifference in his gaze, that diminishes you to the size of an insignificant flower in his presence, or the powerful weight of his words in the air, or his soundless footsteps when he walks into the room.
Me? I’m terrified of Aster’s energy. He could torture someone for hours in the most gruesome ways, kill off a man’s entire family or raze a church to the ground, with its followers still inside…
and his energy would be the same as when he told me bedtime stories when we were young or poured tea for Abuelita…
I’ve never seen the hues of rage or sadness or even ire in Aster.
Not when his pet snake died, not when Baal got into an accident, not when dad beat the shit out of him for getting lost in the park—
There has never been even a flicker in the iridescent white colour of his energy.
Twenty-eight years, and I still have yet to decide if it’s the colour for peace or indifference.
Whichever it is, it convinced me a long time ago that Aster is the stuff real monsters are made of.
“You’re back.” His voice is a deep timbre in the air as he puts his phone in his front pocket. It’s rare to catch him in comfortable clothes during the day, so to see him now in black sweatpants and a grey hooded sweater, I can think of a few people who’d pay good money just for a photo.
“And you’re the only one who’s come to greet me?” I put my hand to my chest in a show of hurt, “After everything I went through.”
“You mean everything you put yourself through?” Aster’s brow raises as he puts his hands in his pockets, “Remember, the plane was also an option.”
My nose wrinkles, “Planes are boring.”
“I can imagine.” He nods his head in the direction of the nearest kitchen, “Just a few more things before you disappear.”
“Can’t it wait ‘til I’ve washed off the blood of our enemies?”
“No.”
“… If I get blood in the kitchen, Abuelita’s going to chase me around with her cane again.”
Aster turns away with the barest smile touching a corner of his lips, but still there isn’t even a ripple of amusement in his energy when he responds, “Then don’t get blood in the kitchen.”
Lucifer incarnate. I mutter under my breath before leaving my shoes at the door and following after him, past two sitting rooms and the ground floor gym, into a kitchen painted in shades of black and grey, with a long bar counter.
I’m hesitating to sit at the bar, already imagining Abuelita in my ears, when Aster pulls out his phone and puts a call on speaker, then walks around the counter to grab two glasses from the top cupboard.
“Didn’t I just get off the phone with you?” Dahlia’s annoyed voice comes through the speaker.
“I’m home, prima,” I grin as I call out to her. “Aster wanted me to hear your voice.”
Dahlia snorts, “I hope he puts you in the ring for all the work you put me through.”
The thought of being in the ring with Aster is enough to make me wince.
“I was planning my shower when I got your stupid call,” Dahlia continues. “You’re lucky I was able to get my men up there soon to control the witnesses.”
Since the shootout happened on her territory, I’d called Dahlia immediately after to let her know what went down. Calling Aster came after that.
“The Romano family’s been itching for a taste of us for months,” I remind her. “I offered myself up and they took the bait without hesitation, but the feds aren’t going to find a trace of our family at the scene. That is, if we can get our people to control the witness testimonies.”
Aster pushes a glass of newly poured whiskey towards me, and I pick it up to swirl the liquid around for a moment, “We control them, then the Romano’s are going to have their hands full for a while explaining this mess. They’ll be keeping out of our business.”
“That was your thought process?” Aster’s brow raises again.
“I call bullshit,” Dahlia quips. “He can’t come up with that plan himself, someone probably fed it to him. I bet Tobias.”
“Now you’re just insulting me,” my eyes narrow.
“If you had those kinds of brains, Uncle Taiga would be using you a lot more, no?” The sound of water breaks through the phone from the end of Dahlia’s line, making my brows tighten.
“That’s exactly why I don’t use them often,” I chug down my whiskey, closing my eyes tight against the burn that travels all the way to my stomach, before slamming the glass onto the table.
“And if this is going to be the reception I won’t use them ever again. Were you able to get to the witnesses?”
“Yeah, yeah.” There’s that sound of water again on Dahlia’s side.
“Some of my men were able to get there as the police were taking statements, but of the six people that were trapped in the store, none of them saw your faces or got a good look at the shooters. You handled this one on your own pretty well.”
… Six?
That doesn’t add up. My heart immediately picks up a strange rhythm in my chest, “Dahlia, there were eight people in that store.”
There’s a pause through the line and I can imagine the look on her face right now, the crease of her brows, that shine in her eyes when she’s replaying her memories in her head, “No… There were six witnesses taking statements.”
“No,” I correct her with the same tone, “there were two kids, a boy and a girl who saw mine and Christian’s faces. They were between us and the attackers when the place lit up. Were they still at the scene when the police came?”
Again silence. And my heart is kicking it up a notch when I remember looking back at Christian inside the store, when he was dousing himself with water.
By then the two kids were long gone.
And it’s not trepidation pulsing beneath my skin. It’s excitement.
“Christian let them get away,” I say what I’m thinking, unable to wipe the smile off my face or stop the new energy that’s making me rock back and forth on my toes.
“Who’s Christian?” Aster speaks up from sipping his whiskey.
“The traitor-killer I kidnapped from Dahlia’s place and brought back with me,” I answer honestly and Aster’s brows draw together quizzically.
For good reason though, because I didn’t tell him shit about Christian.
“I want him to join my team.” Nothing he can do about it now anyway. “I think Xavier should be showing him to his room now.”
“You’re saying Christian let the kids go?” Dahlia’s tone is dripping with disbelief. “Why?”
I tilt my head to one side thoughtfully, “He has a soft spot for kids.”
Dahlia scoffs immediately, “Christian? Soft spot? I’ve never seen him interact long enough with a child in my life.”
That’s interesting.
Aster places his glass down on the counter with a contemplative look, “… He was trying to protect them.”
Interesting.
“It looks like you’ll have to cut your bath short, prima,” I place my empty glass on the table with a grim expression. “Sounds like you’ve still got witnesses to find.”