Chapter 29
Shadow
The bitch approaches the table, the smug smirk on her face making her look unattractive. Perhaps because it was a reflection of what was inside. Rotten. Despicable. Evil.
Julia Scarva.
She is so self-absorbed and self-confident that either it doesn’t strike her as odd that we are on a rooftop restaurant alone, not another guest in sight, or she thinks she is untouchable. I’d bet on her stupidity, so option number two.
“Well, Damon, to be honest, I expected your call sooner. Have you come to your senses?” She mocks, removing her coat before taking a seat. I don’t bother giving her a response.
She rearranges her skin-tight blue dress, pulling on the fabric to expose more of her puffed-up cleavage.
She must delude herself that the look on my face isn’t pure disgust as she winks and smiles sensually.
I would rather watch Bobby ‘One Fist’ Brown do what he does best than watch Julia trying to be provocative.
It's vile and bile-inducing. Nothing compared to my rainbow.
I remind myself that it is because of what this creature has done to my girl that I must go through with this.
The waiter arrives with a bottle of red, one of Julia's favorites.
“Oh, Damon, you didn’t forget,” she gushes, fluttering her eyes at me as the waiter pours her a glass.
Her red-painted lips pull up in a flattering smile as she thanks the waiter before he leaves.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure? The last time I saw you, you declared your version of love to that little girl next door. What was her name, Sylvia? Sheryl?”
She feigns ignorance, and once again, I hate that I promised Nicolo that I would not kill this vile creature.
I was a monster of my word, especially when it came to a man who was like a brother to me. My only family growing up.
“Sienna,” I say curtly, the little laugh she gives me so false it wasn’t worth the effort.
“That’s the one. So where is little Miss Sienna? Busy baking bread? Or maybe fucking the doorman?”
“Soon to be Mrs. Deangelo is busy with wedding preparations.”
Her eyes flash with anger, and then she smiles sweetly.
“Are you really going ahead with that? Even after what happened at Lady Chatman’s? I hear about that unfortunate incident.” She fake pouts, shaking her head.
“I mean, how do you feel about that? Your future wife defiled like that…” Her words are meant to incite anger, and they do, but I do not give her the benefit of a reaction, something that makes her angry when I smirk instead.
“The man responsible paid.”
She sips on her wine, an action meant to hide the sneer .
“Do you recall the warning I gave you and Luciano at The Barcelona?” She shakes her head in response and leans back in her chair, trying to appear relaxed, though I can see she is starting to get worried. Her provocations are not working, and my way too calm facade is having the desired impact.
“Ucciderò chiunque provi a toccarla. I will kill anyone who tries to touch her. That goes for the puppet and the puppeteer.”
There it is—a flash of fear before it is replaced with a nervous laugh.
“Are you trying to imply something, Damon?”
Sip. Silence.
Her blue eyes hold mine—a challenge.
“Did you know that there were cameras installed at Lady Chatman’s? Cameras that recorded that incident.” She shakes her head, schooling her features as she waits for me to continue.
“Cameras that were bought on the black market by a company called Spectre Eventer. The same company that paid one of Lady Chatman’s cleaning staff to install those cameras at her mansion three days before the Masquerade Ball.”
He was already dead, dealt with early this morning.
I observe her, looking for any signs of reaction. But she is a chameleon—a monster who knows how to hide.
Sip. Silence.
“That same company and the person behind it facilitated that incident and even aided the now late Lowrens Briar in his obsession with his next victim, my future wife. The recording of the incident in the bathroom with Sienna was then posted on the internet.” Saying it incites the same level of rage it did the first time, and the bitch must feel it because she flinches slightly, a flash of fear in her eyes.
Sip. Silence.
“His death matched my wrath. It was slow and torturous. Imagine what is in store for those other players in this game.”
“W-well,” she stutters, clearing her throat before speaking again, with more confidence this time.
“Well, I don’t know why you are telling me this, Damon. I have nothing to do with it.”
Sip. Silence.
“The same way you had nothing to do with Nicolo's death?”
She laughs, her eyes leaving mine briefly before meeting mine again.
“This again. You know I had nothing to do with that.”
“Just like you had nothing to do with any of what I have just told you? It's funny, you almost had me, especially with that whole Bright Simpson character entering the scene. But then, thanks to Sienna, all the pieces fell into place. You made it quite obvious. I was just slow to catch on.”
Sip. Silence.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
I laugh, but it sounds malicious, even to my ears.
“Spectre Eventer. Spectre, as in ghost. And Eventer means horse or rider.
Ghost Rider. Very clever. And then there is Bright Simpson.
The name of the ghost rider's girlfriend. Roxanne Simpson. The meaning of Roxanne is bright.” Her eyes flash with surprise.
She never thought I would figure it out.
Her self-confidence and overestimation of her intelligence have led to her downfall.
“You knew about my tattoo in honor of Nicolo and used it in your sick and twisted game. One you almost succeeded at had it not been for Sienna.”
Sip. Silence.
“This little fable is cute, but you have no evidence, Damon.”
“In my world, Julia, I don’t need evidence. Did you think the law would deal with this?” She pales at the reality of my words, finally understanding that it didn’t matter if I could prove it. If I believed it, she was fucked.
Her only chance now was putting on an act.
Cue performance.
“Okay, okay,” she says, leaning forward so that her demeanor is no longer confident. She is going to play the victim.
“I did help Lowrens, but I had no idea he would do that to her. I swear.” Her empathy act is lacking, probably because she has never really felt that emotion.
“You released it on the internet.” She pales further when she hears the venom in my voice, her hand reaching out to touch mine before I pull it back.
“I was mad. Because I love you, Damon. And I was mad because you picked her over me, after all my years of pining for you. I even killed Nicolo for you, for us,” she says, rising from her chair to kneel on the floor beside me.
“I just want you to look at me like you look at her.” Tears pour down her eyes, the first real emotions I have ever seen on her face. Her hands claw at my thighs while her tear-rimmed eyes plead with me.
“You know about obsession, Damon. You know what it can make a person do. You and I are the same. That’s why I love you because I know you can understand me.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t right either. We are not the same. The love she spoke of was not real. If it really came down to it, she would kill me first to save herself.
I would always pick Sienna over myself.
“We are not the same.” I shake my leg free from her grasp and stand up, the steps coming from the entrance to the rooftop restaurant right on time.
“Damon, it has been a long time. ”
“No,” Julia whispers, her eyes wide as she rises to face the man whose hand I have just shaken.
I turn to face her, her eyes darting between me and the new addition to our party.
“You remember Nicolo's brother, Daniil?”
She shakes her head, denying the impending doom.
“While I am a man of my word and cannot break the promise I made to your husband as he lay dying in my arms, a promise not to kill you, it doesn’t mean someone else can’t do it for me.” I smile when Daniil steps forward, followed by two guards.
Silence. Scream.
Julia is dragged away, her black heels and a trail of piss following.
“Remember your promise to me. It will be painful and not over fast.”
Daniil smiles, one that speaks of the evil he will inflict.
“Of course. Thank you, Damon. I can finally be at ease knowing Nicolo’s death has been avenged. I owe you a debt.” And then he is gone, and I am alone on the rooftop.
Being indebted to the Russian Mafia was never a bad position to be in.
As I stand there, under a clear starry night, I feel something Being me that I have not felt in ages.
Peace.