Chapter 25
KABIR
Fatigue dragged at his body and mind as he stood under the shower, water streaming down his head and body. Steam rose in the cubicle obscuring his vision and he took a moment to gratefully close his eyes, trying to empty his mind of the thoughts whispering and tangling in a toxic mess.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I don’t have the lifestyle to adopt a little girl. I don’t know what the hell I am going to do.”
“But?”
“I’m not walking away. I can’t.”
His eyes snapped open, breath catching in his chest as his conversation with Ved played in his skull like an echo he couldn’t outrun. He wasn’t walking away, he couldn’t, not from a ten-year-old girl who needed him but he’d be damned if he knew how the hell he was supposed to do this.
He was barely managing his own life. Twenty days a month on the road. Ten days pretending New York was home. Zero days knowing how to be anyone’s guardian. He could barely guardian himself.
He turned off the shower, water still dripping down his back in cold trails as he stepped onto the glossy tile of the bathroom. The mirror greeted him with a stranger, sunken eyes, cheekbones too sharp, a jaw clenched hard enough to crack.
His reflection was gaunt and haunted. He looked like a man drowning slowly. His phone buzzed distantly from the bedroom. He ignored it. His aunt could wait. The world could wait. He needed a moment to catch his breath, just one fucking moment.
From whatever his aunt’s doctors had said, she had months left to torment him, months to draw blood from a child she’d already broken, months to drag him through mud that wasn’t his, months to remind him of the bloodline he wished he didn’t have.
His mother, a mafia boss. His father, her enforcer. A lineage carved in violence, addiction, and rot. And wasn’t that a kicker? The ultimate fucking irony.
Most people thought rockstars drowned in drugs.
Kabir had always stayed the hell away. He’d valued his health, sure, but mostly, he’d known the people who raised him, the only ones who mattered, would have flown down to New York, dug a grave in his backyard, and buried him alive if he’d ever touched the stuff.
But genetics didn’t care about discipline. Addiction lived in his veins whether he let it out or not. This was stamped into his DNA and he couldn’t burn it out of himself.
The phone buzzed again. His jaw ticked as the muscles in his shoulders bunched painfully. His pulse pounded in his temples. What the fuck did she want?
Was she dying tonight? Throwing another tantrum? Threatening him? The kid? Herself?
With a rough breath, he wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out, strides sharp, controlled only by fury. He reached the bed just as the phone fell silent. Of course. Of course she’d stop calling the second he reached out to help. Well, good riddance, he thought, swearing under his breath.
He changed direction, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Grabbing tracks and a t-shirt from his open suitcase, he pulled them on mechanically and let himself fall back onto the bed. The ceiling blurred above him.
And his mind, weak, traitorous thing that it was, went where it always went.
Tani.
What would she say if she knew? What would she think if she saw him like this? Weak, helpless, hopeless…
He didn’t have to wonder long. He knew her better than he knew himself. She’d roll up her sleeves, pull her hair into that messy bun she swore wasn’t intentional, and take over.
She’d create a plan of action, a colour coded one with the best of her glitter pens. She’d map his every step from this moment until the day he collapsed in a rocking chair somewhere.
She’d fix everything he was too broken to fix. She’d always fixed everything, including him.
He turned his head, pressing his cheek to the sheets, staring through the huge window framing the dark city. Somewhere out there, she was laughing. Dancing. Being celebrated. Being loved.
Somewhere out there, she was alive in a way he hadn’t been in ages, in a way he hadn’t been since he’d pushed her away, shoving her out of his life.
And God…God, how he wished he could be with her. Even for a second. Just to stand near her and feel the world lighten, to soak in her happiness like sunlight, to bask in the simple, devastating joy of her presence.
He blinked hard, but the burn behind his eyes didn’t fade. He would take anything. A glimpse. A smile. A caress.
Just his Bug. Just for a heartbeat.
Even from a distance, it would be enough. She was always enough. And she didn’t even know she was the only thing keeping his heart beating. Even now, when he could feel it drowning in grief.
His phone rang again and this time he reached for it, answering without glancing at the display. “Hello.” His voice was brusque, laced with exhaustion and desolation.
“Kabir.” Vikram’s tense voice cut through Kabir’s mental fog.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up, already looking for his wallet and car keys.
“We need you.” Someone shouted in the background, the sounds coming through aggressive and loud.
“I’m on my way. Where are you?” Kabir was already heading for the door.
Vikram’s next words had Kabir’s blood chilling, dread sliding through him like ice.
“The police station,” Vikram said, his voice tight and thin. “I’m texting you the location.”
“Vik-“ Kabir’s throat closed up as he walked through the halls of Il Cuore, praying he didn’t encounter any of the family members. Just this once, God was listening to his prayers. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vikram sounded distracted. “On the whole yeah.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Kabir hissed as he reached the front door, cracking it open as quietly as possible.
For a moment there was silence and then Vikram said, “It’s just that…they’ve arrested Tani.”
Kabir pulled the phone away from his ear, staring disbelievingly at the screen. Then he put it back to his ear and roared, “WHAT?”
Another shout echoed from somewhere behind Vikram. “Get here fast,” Vikram said urgently a second before the line went dead.
And Kabir abandoned all pretence of stealth and ran.