18. Nicu
18
NICU
W hy? Why the hell would you do this? What was her angle? No one risked their life for nothing… especially not for someone like me. Clasping my hands together so hard they turned white, I leaned forward, staring at the wild-haired princess in her bed. Her cheeks were flushed, lips plump and red, eyes closed as if under a spell. She looked more like a princess from the fairytales, and yet kissing her wasn't going to wake her up from her drug-induced sleep.
Watching the rise and fall of her chest like it was a heart monitor, I forced myself to close my eyes, to stop watching so incessantly. Even now, I could still feel the weight of her soft, frail body in my arms as she collapsed. I caught her just in time for Ion to shoot her assailant. I still remember the horror on his face as I pulled my arm away, soaked in her blood. Kazia Lee. The woman who was our prisoner and yet risked her life to save mine.
This woman took a bullet for me.
Telling Ion to give me cover, I ripped the shoulder of her dress and looked at her wound. It went all the way through and seemed not to have hit any major nerves or bones. For once, the field experience I went through in the States came in handy.
In the middle of wrapping her up, Cezar busted into the room, calling for her, only to stop in his tracks at seeing her limp in my arms, blood all over. He took a step towards me like he was the grim reaper ready to claim my soul. I didn't have time for his antics, so I shook my head and threw my chin at the body on the floor. He took a deep breath, turned, and lunged for the body, stabbing over and over as he screamed.
Ion kept looking at me, silently asking if he should intervene. But the moment his eyes landed on the woman in my arms, his whole face darkened, and he turned to watch Cezar work.
Hearing my younger brother's hateful wails, broken with his argued whispers at the voices in his head, I knew that if this woman died, it would break a piece of him that would never be put back together. Pulling out my phone, I called a doctor I knew who would keep it on the low and told him to get here as fast as possible, or it would be his head on a platter. Closing the phone, I looked down at her, and my heart threw itself against my rib cage, and I realized that Cezar might not be the only one who lost something.
Bloody footprints came my way, his knees crashing to the floor. His despondent face bent towards her like a follower of its god. A shaky, stained hand reached towards her before closing into a fist and slamming it onto the floor. “I-is s-she…?”
He couldn't finish the sentence, almost like it would have been real if he had spoken it into existence. Shaking my head, I responded, “She passed out from the blood loss and pain. She’ll live. I promise you, brother, she will live.”
His eyes finally rose from her, a haunting stillness took over, and even I felt the cold darkness of death surrounding us. “They’ll pay. They’ll all pay tenfold.” I could only nod, knowing he was not making any idle threats. He was going to track down every last mother fucker and kill them savagely. I’d seen it before.
The doctor came over, and Cezar went into full feral mode, threatening the doctor, telling him if she didn't wake up, he was going to not only come for all his family and friends, but would wipe out the whole family lineage. By the third threat, the doctor’s hands shook too badly to work, and Ion had to wrestle Cezar away from her.
It has already been three days since the incident, and she still hasn't woken up. For the first few days, we kept her sedated to spare her the worst of the pain. It’s been twenty-four hours since we stopped, and she still hasn’t woken.
The three of us took shifts watching her… well, except Cezar. He never left, sleeping next to her like the dark shadow he was. Ion and I barely talked him into eating regularly and just taking him into the shower. We told him that when she woke up, she would look at him and be grossed out by him. That made him move his ass real quick.
So now I was watching over the woman who had saved me, the last person on this earth who should've saved me. Everything I’ve been taught, seen, and lived by says that I should’ve just let her die on that floor, getting rid of the dead weight…but I just couldn’t. It wasn't for my brothers; it was something deep inside me.
It just didn’t make any sense.
She was a smart woman; she knew when we met that I planned to kill her. I could see the fear and the fake acceptance in her eyes because she knew he was a bargaining price as soon as she accepted Cezar. Then she somehow collected Ion behind my back, so I knew she had some fight.
That's why I couldn't figure out her game in saving my life. She could’ve left or told my brothers it was one of the Shadow Kings who got me. She should've done a million different things, but she chose to save me… and I needed to know why.
It was like something underneath my skin couldn't settle; I couldn't accept the facts as they were. I didn't want to determine what that meant and how I felt about it. No, because if I did that, I would succumb to weakness, and I wouldn't do that. Never.
Fingers digging into the leather of my chair, I stared at the woman, trying to figure out her angle and what she wanted. And why I cared so much.
The soft slide of sheets moving caught my attention. Her face pinched in pain before she let out a quiet hiss, her eyes still closed. My whole body stilled, paying complete attention to her.
“I’m not dead?”
Was that what she was doing? Did she want to die? My back tightened; the thought of her pulse slowing to a stop in my arms that night…bothered me. Why? Why? Why?
“Why?” I growled out without thinking. She flinched, eyes flying open and turning in my direction. As soon as those eyes saw me, her whole face got tense. Her walls stacked up fast, but those autumn-colored eyes made me feel things I hadn't since childhood. Taking a slow measure breath, I internally chastised myself. This wasn't the plan. I would talk to her with ease and dance around the subject to learn her true motives, but I just blurted it out like an idiot.
Now that it was out, I had to try to take some semblance of control, calm my pounding heart, and get some answers. Keeping my voice low and soft, I asked, “Why did you jump in front of me?”
She looked around the room, recognition lighting up those honey-golden eyes. She tried to sit up, crying out as she made the mistake of trying to use the hand with the shoulder wound, and I got up, taking her by the waist and lifting her to a seated position. Her jaw clenched as she whispered out a sharp ‘thank you’. Looks like someone doesn't like to look weak in front of me.
That thought made me smile; turning away from her before she could see it, I sat back down in the chair beside her like nothing had happened.
We stared at each other, locked in a silent standoff, until she finally sighed in disgust. “Better the devil you know than the one you don’t.” The beating in my chest thumped harder, faster. “Plus,” she rolled her eyes, “even if I got away, past all the guys coming after us, I would’ve had Cezar after me for the rest of my life and…,” her lips tipped up to the side as she looked down at the bed. “He’s crazy enough to keep his promises.”
Somehow, in just a few sentences, this woman made me feel more things in the past three minutes than I’d felt in more than ten years. Shoving that on the back burner, I kept to the facts. “The man that shot you was taken care of,” the blood took forever to get out of the hardwood, “and has been made into a message for the leader.” It was quite a chore to send over all the pieces Cezar left of the corpse, but it made a clear message, and those are the ones I liked best.
“Is everyone okay?”
I couldn't tell if she was fishing for someone in particular or just curious. “Of course we are. My brothers and I have been trained in ways that are much worse than whatever those imbeciles call this assault.” I thought this would reassure her, but when her lips turned down and she looked away, I knew I said something wrong.
Seeing the pill bottles on the side table reminded me of her injury. “You were lucky.” My jaw tightened. The labels of the bottles were not all facing forward. Why wouldn't they be facing forward? You need to see the label to take the right dosage. “The bullet went perfectly through.” I could not handle it anymore, so I turned all the bottles to match. Perfectly centered forward. “Not hitting any nerves or bones, the healing time has decreased significantly. Also, we have the best doctors on standby.”
“That's good.” Something about getting validation from this woman filled me with pride until her somber voice continued. “So your father won't get too mad by the delay.”
It was like a punch to the gut when she mentioned my father, and I felt like an idiot for not thinking this would be at the top of her mind. All we’ve been doing these past three days has been wanting to see those eyes of hers open, but she was right; now that they are, we must fulfill.
“I talked to him, and it made him understand the situation. The flight was delayed a week per the doctor's orders.” She stayed stiff, silently nodding, still not looking at me, and it was driving me mad.
None of this was going how I’d hoped. It seemed like I had just soured her mood, and she'd just woken up. I'm sure that wasn't good for her healing, so I got up, tugging my sleeves to keep my hands busy. “I'm sure you need some rest. I will let Cezar and Ion know you’re up.” I'm sure you would prefer to be around them than me .
Telling myself it was fine, that she was never meant to mean anything anyway, her harsh, accusing voice stopped me. “Just tell me, is he going to kill me?”
The fire in her eyes and the defiance in her voice told me she didn't get it. She would never get it.
She didn’t understand that dying was not the worst thing that could happen to you. Dying could be the only thing you wished for when dealing with my father.
She needed to understand and steel herself… and there was only one way I knew how to do that. The only way I'd been taught. Fear.
Turning around inch by inch, slipping on my Azadian heir mask, and letting the ruthless frost fill my veins, then I told her the disgusting truth. “My father is very calculative about what he wants and how he gets it.” Walking towards her with slow, deliberate steps, I brushed my fingers along the edge of the bed but kept my eyes on hers. “He wanted an eldest son with aristocratic blood, so he found a family with good stock and picked a daughter. He threatened the family and their business until she agreed to marry him and give birth to one child for him. A son only.” My teeth hurt from how hard I clenched. “All my older sisters were killed as soon as they knew.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, horror laced in understanding, and I almost chuckled because it got worse. So much worse.
“Then he wanted a son that could work in the shadows, making people at ease with his looks before the gavel fell. So he found the most beautiful woman in Armenia, a singer, and took her home. Raped her over and over again until she was pregnant, and Ion was born.”
Her hands clenched the sheets, her features contorting into a level of sadness that was unmatched, but I couldn't stop myself. The ocean of hidden pain and suffering crashed out of me like a violent, unstoppable tsunami. “After researching your mother, I know why he went after Cezar’s mom. She was a third cousin to your mother and recently married to another tribe. He killed her husband and claimed her as his property. Telling the tribe that if they tried to come for her, he would kill them all. Then, a year later, Cezar was born.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, telling me she didn't want to hear anymore but needed to understand. My chest heaved as I sat down next to her, lifting her face to mine before I put a nail in the coffin. “Open your eyes, Kazia. You need to know what you’re walking into. Who you’re dealing with.” Not just my father, but also myself and my brothers. She needed to know.
“Each of us had a role to play in his empire. The heir with royal blood, the son so beautiful he was deadly… and the son that was meant to do all the dirty work. The other two, you can control and manipulate in several different ways, and there are natural rewards for those jobs if done well, but as an executioner, they need to be honed differently. They needed to be hollow.”
Her eyes opened, tears rolling down, and I wiped one away with my thumb, wondering who those tears were for. “My father is the type to take a seven-year-old boy to an old shipping yard, go into one of the containers, and ask him if he wanted to make his father proud, wanted to solidify his spot in this family.”
I saw the scene before me like I did back then, through the slit of the door. “He was the youngest. Always told he was expendable and desperate to belong, to be apart, and my father knew that.”
My gut clenched. I could taste a trace of the bile from that night, and I almost gagged. The ghosts of my past came forward, but I had to finish. I couldn't keep it locked up in my soul anymore.
“Then he brought in three people with sheets over their whole bodies, no way to tell who they were, and had them kneel in front of them. He took out a golden gun, one that Cezar had always admired. I told him that only the son with the most loyalty to our family could have. He gave the gun to Cezar, telling him how he trusted him, how he was going to be the strongest of us all and keep our family safe. Then he said that the people under the hoods were a threat to us all, to our family. He wanted to allow Cezar to prove his loyalty and earn his forever place at our side.”
Remembering that look on Cezar’s young, innocent face haunted me. The one where he tried to abolish his fear and be a man like his father wanted. His small hands took the gun with both hands, barely able to hold it upright. My father moved behind him, holding him up and keeping him steady as he whispered in his ears.
“He took the gun and killed the three hooded figures. My father smiled and told him he did a good job right before his men took off the sheets and showed him that he killed his Nan, best friend, and mother.”
Her sob ricocheted in my soul, and I gripped her face harder, needing to get out the last part. “As he broke down crying, holding his mother's bleeding corpse, my father and his men closed the shipping container and locked him in, telling him that this was the only way to make sure he could do his job properly. To make his mind right for the job .”
And what did I do, his older brother, who should've been looking out for him? I froze up, fear took over my body, and I didn’t move. The first thought was, what would he do to me if I let him out? I didn't get the chance after because one of my father's men found me and took me back to the house.
Before my guilt and misery took over, I focused back on her and brought it all home. “So when I say I don't know what he’s going to do, I don't know. I can make up all types of things he might do, things that make you wish for death.” Letting go of her face, I turned away as her restrained sobs echoed, letting everything I said sink in.
At the soft sound of the sheets moving, I saw her small hand crawling its way over me. Those elegant, soft fingers curled over mine and squeezed.
Focusing on her hand, my chest tightened, and I looked up. Even with tears falling down her cheeks, I saw those amber eyes filled with strength, still fighting, unwilling to give up, wanting to survive. Awe filled my soul as I stared at the woman who had heard the horrors of our life and still had hope she would survive it.
My lips moved, for once saying the words in my heart. “I owe you a life debt. I will do what I can to keep you from harm, but I can’t guarantee you anything.” My shame worked its way to the forefront. “As you just heard, I’m not able to save the people I care about.”
She squeezed my hand again, and her smile wobbled. “Maybe I don't need a savior. Maybe I just need someone to understand the pain.”
This time, it was my turn to stare at her, hardly believing the words that came from her mouth. I expected hatred, disgust, maybe even blame, but this…I didn't know how to handle this, so I handled her.
We sat there staring at each other in a stalemate, but my soul felt lighter and less burdened. Leaning closer toward her like a fish on a hook, the door opened, and I snapped back into place.
“How is she-” Ion spoke first before standing there staring at us with an open mouth. I let go of her hand and stood up, blocking her from his view so she could compose herself.
“Look, Cal, if Ion moved his big fat ass, I would be able to see how my roma is doing.” Cezar shoved at Ion, glaring at him before looking at the bed, and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Zia!” He ran to her side, and I took the opportunity to move out of the way and give them some space.
“When did you start calling me Zia?” Her tone was light and easy, much better than the somber tones from when we talked.
“Well, when I started to pray to all the gods for you to wake up, Ion said I should say your name so they knew who you were. Since I was praying to them from many different religions, I shortened it to get them done as fast as possible.” He paused, cocking his head before shaking it and growling out, “No, Cal! I'm not going to tell her I also prayed to the devil. That might scare her.”
Her eyes widened as she waited for him to look back at her. His slow turn and wide eyes indicated he didn't mean to say it out loud.
“Cezar!”
“My wild Roma, I was very worried about you!” He rushed out like it was a perfectly feasible excuse.
I needed to focus on something, something other than this woman. Glancing at my watch, I realized it would be dinner time soon, and I should figure that out. Stepping towards the door, a strong hand stopped me, and I faced Ion.
His eyes were hard, his lips turned down before he glanced at Cezar and Kazia, then back to me, whispering, “What were you two talking about?”
Glancing down at his hand on me, I stepped into him, getting in his face. “I told her about father.”
He cursed under his breath, “Fuck, Nicu! We decided to keep her safe; why would you scare her like that?”
Shaking his hand off me, I smoothed out my clothes. “She needs to know what she is walking into. Would you prefer her to go in blind, letting him feed off her fear like a drug? No. I want her to know that she can keep her head on her shoulders even when she feels fear. It's better for all of us that way.”
Turning away from him, I went through the door, leaving his angry acceptance to himself. I did what I had to do and what needed to be done. I was tired of losing and failing the people I cared about. It was about time I made the moves to prevent it.