31. Thorne
Chapter 31
Thorne
Several minutes have passed since Ivy left, but I’m still standing in the same spot.
The sound of the door closing as she left still echoes through my mind. The sight of her tears glistening in her beautiful eyes still pulls on my soul. The deep hurt laced within each word she spoke still pains me.
And once again I'm at that place. At the crossroads, not knowing which way to go.
Left or right. Backwards or forwards.
No matter what I choose, I’ll still lose. And Ivy was right. I never had the option to keep her.
My fucking uncle struck again and, like always, he dealt his hand before I could even see what was coming.
I got the message about Tiffany from Aleksander an hour ago. He said she was such a suitable choice he didn’t bother with anyone else on his list of potentials.
Tiffany found out she was to be my bride at the same time I did and was on my doorstep before the hour was up.
I didn't have time to prepare or talk to Ivy. Now I’m stuck.
Tiffany and I aren’t supposed to be getting married until we graduate, but in a few weeks’ time we’ll officially be engaged, so Ivy was right. It’s over.
It’s over, and it felt like we just began. This is a fucking nightmare.
Ivy was everything to me. She is fucking everything.
I have to figure this out. I can’t let her go.
I just can’t.
She’s still mine.
Before nightfall the whole campus knew I was to be engaged to Tiffany.
People might be scared of me but there’s nothing you can do to stop the world from talking. Not even I have that power.
I didn’t care about myself. Words are just words to me. Who I cared about was Ivy.
I found myself outside her window, watching her cry and willing myself not to go in and comfort her.
Resuming stalker mode, I did the same thing for the rest of the week. Watching and waiting, but I don’t know what I’m waiting for. At this point I just want to be near her.
I stopped myself from going tonight because Lucian and I stumbled across some stuff to do with the scar-faced man.
We’re in my apartment sitting in the living room, working through the documents we’ve gathered.
When he agreed to help me the first thing we sought to do was try to identify him with what we knew.
Because so much time has gone by it was harder to go through the list of people who wanted to hurt my family and set up Ivy’s father. All this time the focus has been on the former.
The first thing Aleksander did when my family was killed was go through the list of all my father’s enemies. Old and new at the time.
Everyone he could think of was questioned and investigated thoroughly, then he kept a keen eye on them for years. He still keeps his eyes on them.
Focusing on the scar-faced man is a new angle because we know more about him now.
Lucian and I think that those words the man spoke are some sort of a death ritual. So is the whole cutting out the hearts thing. Now we’re trying to narrow down what the words mean, where they came from, and possibly what group the man might have belonged to.
“This is what I found last night.” Lucian hands me a document with some Armenian and Persian words. “These are all synonymous with death. I think valin mortilum dohaliues is a made-up language of both those languages.”
“What does it mean?” I ask, setting the document on my lap.
“I could be wrong, but it seems to translate to mean the same thing as the Knights’ Oath.”
And this is why I needed his help. I would have never figured that out, even if my mind were free of the shit that’s happening.
“Given that we know this guy is a Knight, I think that sounds like you are on the right track. So, we’re looking for groups that love the Armenian and Persian language?”
“Or a dead language they came from.” Lucian looks like he has an idea. He moves to my computer and taps away at the keyboard.
I walk over to him. “What are you thinking?”
“There was something I came across some time ago. An incident in Uzbekistan that involved the murder of a Knight. There it is.”
I see he’s accessed the top secret files on the database. They talk about a mercenary group called The Hand who killed a senior Knight and his family. The Knight was an oligarch who'd just inherited some land, but there was conflict over the land’s ownership. When he was killed the land went to the Mongolians.
The record states two mercenaries were killed in the attack on the Knight, and they were both Knights.
“This group—The Hand—is known to use dead languages to keep themselves secret. Kind of like how we use runes and speak Old Norse,” Lucian explains. “I know it’s a long shot but this could be a lead.”
“We need to look into them. I guess we’ll know sooner or later if we’re right or wrong.”
He nods. “There are some people I need to speak to.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. And no offense, but some people don’t take too kindly to the Ivanovs.”
I raise my hands. “No offense taken. Who are these people?”
A look of discomfort washes over his face. “People my real father knew from the Italian mafia. The ones who aren’t exactly allies with the Knights, but they’re not enemies either. They know stuff, and they know people.”
“I’ll do whatever you think will work.”
“Great. Then I’ll take this to them and see what happens. If they decide to help me, it will be on the basis of who wants to speak out against this group, or not. When these people kill they’re not supposed to leave any traces. That’s why no one talks about them.”
“I’m sure it’s not going to look good on my scar-faced friend that he left witnesses behind. He would have known about me, but not Ivy.”
“Yeah, but that won’t stop him from coming after you. You were both safe because people thought you made him up. Now that we know he’s not made up, you especially will have a target on your back. If you don’t already have one.”
“I know. I’ve been speaking to my own sources in the underground. Since no one is truly trustworthy, I knew from the moment I opened my mouth I’d have a target on my back. But I need to get to the bottom of this, Lucian. For myself, but more so for her. My family is dead. All I can get is justice, but she might be able to get her father back.”
Lucian studies my face, analyzing me with the attention of a heart surgeon trying to save his patient. He’s silent for a moment, just looking at me, then he shakes his head. “Are you seriously going to marry Tiffany?”
“Lucian. Don’t ask me about that.”
“How the hell do you expect me not to ask you about it?”
He’s asked me before and I didn’t want to talk about it. Instead I steered him to help me with the shit I found on Aleksander and my mission to find the scar-faced man.
“It looks like you’ve chosen Tiffany over Ivy,” he points out.
“Fuck you Lucian. You know I haven’t. And it’s not that simple. If it were I would choose Ivy a million times.” I seethe at him. “This is about the fucking company.”
“I get that but your uncle had no motherfucking right to change the rules on you the way he did.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and try to think beyond the block in my mind. I know the answer to my conundrum lies with the connection I still have with the past.
“That company was the only thing my father had. If I don’t fight for it, it feels like I’m letting go of the only thing he put his heart and soul into creating. That was his legacy. Aleksander is trying to take that away from me.”
“I never knew your father, but when you talk about him it’s always with great respect. You always say you had a home full of love.”
I smirk without humor. “Didn’t know you were paying attention to that.”
“People like me listen because I didn’t have that kind of home until my stepfather came along. I might not always get along with him but I know he loves my mother and me. If you can talk about your father with such honor, and you were only eight when he died, it means you and your family were his priority. You were his legacy. Not the company.”
His words sink in, clearing the fog of conflict from my mind. It gives me the freedom to truly think.
I think of my father and the way he was with my mother, my sister and me. We were inseparable but my father was the glue that held us together. He spent time with our family, creating those unforgettable memories.
That is my legacy.
“I don’t think your father would be happy with your uncle forcing stipulations on you, or you trying to meet them.” Lucian raises a brow.
I stand, suddenly knowing what I need to do. I still have nothing to work with but Aleksander doesn’t have me cornered yet.
If this were a game of chess I’d still have to make my move and keep playing to the end, even if my best pieces had been taken away from me.
The game isn’t over until I’m checkmate.
That means I can still win, but I have to keep moving and find a way.
I grab my jacket.
“Where are you going?” Lucian looks me over.
“To see my uncle. We need to talk.”
Lucian smiles.
It’s late, so I already expected my asshole uncle to be pissed to see me at his home. The thing is, he would have been pissed at my presence anyway.
He’s sitting in the living room wearing his dressing gown, watching TV.
When I walk in, the scowl on his face deepens. It’s the kind of unwelcome expression you’d find on a person who’s shooing away a dog with mange.
“What the hell do you want at this hour?”
“I’m not marrying Tiffany.” Those words feel like a release of my soul.
Aleksander looks taken aback but there’s a look of triumph lurking in the corners of his eyes.
“Did I just hear you right?”
“You did. I’m not marrying her, so you can tell her father that whatever deal you made is off the table.”
“Think carefully about what you’re passing up, nephew.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“So you know what this means. Don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, uncle. I’m well aware.”
“Such a sacrifice for fresh pussy.”
“Watch your words.” I walk up to him and he winces, trying not to show he’s afraid of me. I could kick the shit out of him right now. The way he used to beat me when I was a kid. I only hold back because of Caspian. “Don’t let me kill you.”
“Looks like I was right about you and Ivy Yegorov.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Okay, well, declining the stipulation of marriage to the girl I have chosen for you violates my terms. So, if I were to allow you to work at my company, all you would ever be is an errand boy.” The smile he gives me is sickening.
“I will never be your fucking errand boy. And don’t think this is over, or that I don’t know what you’re up to.”
The triumphant look on his face fades. “I’m not up to anything.”
“Something is always going on with you. Something’s going on now . By trying to get rid of me, you’ve only attracted my attention even more. I can’t wait to find out what you’re hiding. Whatever it is you never wanted me to know.”
He half lunges at me. “I am still your fucking leader. You will have respect.”
“Of course, my lord.” I borrow Tiffany’s words and smile.
The asshole doesn’t like my comeback one bit. Good. He and I are just getting started.
I’m done talking, so I leave him to stew on my defiance.
I march outside, jump on my motorcycle, and ride away from Aleksander and his miserable schemes like I have hellfire on my ass.
There are so many obstacles in the air and the tension is high now that I’ve declared war on my uncle.
As my leader, Aleksander will always have power over me, and the secrets I hold about Ivy could still get me killed.
I’ve placed myself open for attack in more ways than one. And I just gave up my chance to get my share of the company for a girl I blackmailed into being mine.
I’m such an idiot. I always had the answer. I could have ended this days ago. Maybe weeks.
This was never just about obsession or addiction.
I know myself.
I loved Ivy from the first moment I saw her.
She was always mine.