Chapter 29. #2
And the bastard's been giggling for years.
I swig big gulps from my newly poured glass. The warm brown liquid is a fire that goes straight to my stomach. That burns my throat all the way down.
“Your father and I had to teach it to him. What was right and wrong. How to prioritize what’s important. He’s still our son. He’s still the man who will take over the family. So we kept it quiet. We taught him how to—”
“How to pretend,” I place the empty glass back on the table. “How to play puppet with his face and his body.”
Twenty-eight years and only now do I finally understand my brother.
When I've said things I can't take back.
‘He hasn't felt a single thing since he was born.’
‘We both know the monster in the room isn't Christian, it’s you.’
Fucking hell, Reuben.
There has to be a better role for you in this script than ‘stupid fucking clown’.
My mother places a hand on my shoulder, and even though her expression is stiff, her energy is filled with apology. Regret. Guilt. “Your brother pushes himself every day, to be… normal. For you. For his family—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” My words are pointed but I don't even have it in me to be angry anymore. “I lived my whole life thinking Aster was the stuff monsters were made of,” I confess. “That he didn’t love anything—not me, not you, not the family. Why are you telling me after all this time that he’s sick?
Why would you keep that from me, knowing the things I see? ”
Her brows furrow, a new surprise and worry crowding into her energy, “You… still see them? Those colours?”
He reaction is like a low roll of thunder passing through my body.
Despondency. Disappointment.
Right.
Of course.
The last time I mentioned it to you would have been years ago.
I pull out of her touch slowly and she grabs my hand as if sensing the numbness she’s placed inside me.
“But I suppose it isn’t a condition you can name as easily as Aster’s,” I cut off her words before she can say them, matter-of-factly. “There’s no fancy, medical name you can put on it… so it was easier to throw hallucination meds at me and hope they go away.”
“You said they worked—”
“I was 15, Mama.” There’s no blame in my words. No hatred or anger. Just resignation. “Three years of meds and doctors and therapy.”
Of course I’d say they fucking worked.
But Baachan believed me.
Christian believed me.
Though I suppose he would; he’s not human. He doesn’t know what should and shouldn’t be possible.
He was always so... confused by simple things.
Carbonated water.
Club music—he compared them to earthquakes.
Fashion…
Always fashion.
Just walking into a section of a store with hats, caps, berets, beanies, visors—
The corners of my lips tilt in a smile at the memory.
It drove his energy mental…
It's bullshit that you think you don’t have an identity of your own.
Every emotion I ever saw on you belonged to you.
“It doesn't matter anymore,” I place my hand on hers where she’s grabbed me at my wrist, to squeeze gently. “None of that stuff does.”
Because… now there are people I need to apologize to and… someone I need to see again.
“I'll talk to Aster.”
The words are barely out of my lips when Gabriel runs in, looking pale, his energy jittery and anxious.
“We've lost communication with the Don.”
Again with the fucking jokes.
I’m convinced there are some shady, chain-smoking, celestial motherfuckers playing cards with my life.
Where’s their supervisor?!
I’m muttering curses in Spanish but urgency kicks my feet into overdrive as I reach for the nearest shirt.
“How many men did he take?” I’m clothed by the time I step out into the hall.
“Twenty-five.” Gabriel’s reply is certain.
Men on the outside have already handed me three guns before the words have time to settle.
We arm ourselves while we move.
“And you've lost contact with all of them?” Mother scowls. There’s a vicious light in her eyes as she loads a newly handed AR-15 and throws a duffel over her shoulder.
“It's worse,” Tobias appears at my side, arming himself with his favourite knives as we tear through the house. “The residents nearby are reporting gunfire.”
August, the prick.
“Round up the team,” my command is sharp, “and as many men as you can.”
“We can't leave the estate open to attack—”
“We don't need an estate without a Don in it.” There's no hesitation in my voice as I stop to meet Tobias’ eyes. He blinks once and I ignore the pride in mother’s energy as I continue, “If August has the balls to try to put down the Taiga’s head, then we need to shut him down. Now.”
My feet are moving again down the stairs and before I know it a crowd of men are already falling in line behind me. “Find Dahlia and Rosabella. Every member of the family should hide in the escape route. Tobias will stay. Pick out a handful of trusted men to lead them there—”
The moment I step out the front door, I stop dead.
“Lucia?” A scowl comes to my face almost by instinct when I meet her eyes, “What are you—?”
“I received a text saying you need men,” She cuts me off with a look that says she won't be turned away this time, and when I look behind her I see them.
Ten men. Armed. Trained.
“This was all I could do.” She walks up to me until she’s barely a full step away; her glare is so scathing, if I put a knife in her hands I think she might actually cut me.
“If, after all this, Christian doesn’t come back, it won’t just be August after your head.” Her words are poisonous—coated with promise—and there’s a darkness in her eyes I never noticed before. A darkness I didn’t think she had.
But it’s the mention of Christian that makes my pulse quicken.
That makes me realize why she’s here.
A sound draws my attention away, and when I turn my head, a familiar figure is stepping into the light and onto the gravel of the driveway—a tall, tank of a man with white streaks in long brown hair, a permanent scowl and five men behind him.
“Olsen?” I blink because I admit, I need sleep. I wouldn’t put it past me to be seeing shit.
Olsen’s scowl only deepens and he clicks his teeth, as though he hates the very notion of being here.
“My guys and I will help you keep intruders off the compound.” He walks until he’s stopped next to me, watching me with a sharp glare, “Some prick didn’t end me when he should have.
After this, I don’t owe nobody nothing.”
I bark a laugh. Now it finally feels like someone with a decent hand is holding the cards on my life.
I’m able to organize the men into two teams; one will head out with me to go after August, and the other will stay with Tobias, Dahlia and Rosabella to hold the fort and keep out unwanteds.
But the whole time, my heart is pumping endorphins through my blood.
The whole time, I’m thinking about him.
We’re seconds away from heading out when something catches my eye, a flash of movement… When I look up, a small black cat is watching me, sitting at the top of the inner wall.
It’s itching for a fight, and its eyes are locked on me, ready to follow behind the moment I leave to go after August’s head.
After this is over...
Baby, please get down from there.
If you won’t, then I’ll just climb up and drag you down.
And if you don’t have a name… then we’ll work on one together.
“Let’s show August we aren’t that easy to put down,” I promise.