chapter 42
Avira
“What’s going on?” I ask Wen as soon as she picks up the video call.
“Where?” she asks, chewing something.
“In California. Ella had two concerts back to back. Do you know about it?” I grin.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah… I just had two concerts with a gap of twenty days, and everyone is asking me now. Can’t an artist live her life?”
“Why not? But how come this artist decided to start living her life now?” I wiggle my brows.
She had her concert two weeks after New Year, which was normal because the concert before that was four months ago, but then she said yes for another concert, which was yesterday.
Before she could reply, Zoan’s room door opens and he enters.
“I think it’s time for me to leave,” she waves her hand. “Say hi to Zo and bye-bye.”
She cuts the call. I roll onto my back as he reaches me. He bends over me and kisses me, then pulls back. “You didn’t eat dinner.”
I shake my head. “I’ll eat with you.”
I get off the bed. He stands straight. “Let’s go.”
We leave his room, which has now become our room. I have made my room my study room, and this room is our bedroom.
“Mama called me today,” I tell him, sitting on my chair.
“And?”
“She was talking strange.” I put lobster mac and cheese on his plate and mine.
“Like?”
“Like I need to help her in setting you up with some girl.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I won’t do any such thing. I don’t even like hearing that.” I scoff.
He smirks, then starts eating. I also start eating.
By the time we finish, the home assistant announces that Daddy’s chopper has just landed.
I frown. “Why is Daddy here?”
“I don’t know.”
We walk out of the dining room. The main door opens, and Mama and Daddy come inside. They are not looking happy. Daddy looks angry, and Mama looks tense.
He doesn’t even glance at me and walks straight to Zoan.
“What’s going on between you and Avira?”
My mouth hangs open, the floor is there, but I’m not really feeling it. Mama comes by my side.
“I love her,” Zoan says, and I feel a wave of dizziness.
Daddy hits him on the face. He takes the blow silently. Mama reaches Daddy’s side and holds his arm.
“Have you ever treated her like your sister? Have you ever accepted us as your parents?” There is hurt and anger in his voice.
“Get out of this house. I don’t want to see your face ever again,” he shouts.
Zoan nods and starts walking toward the still-open door. I follow him, but Daddy grabs my arm.
“And you?”
I look at him with tear-filled eyes. “I love him, Daddy. Please stop him.”
“You love him? Can you hear yourself, Avira? You love your brother.”
Tears finally fall from my eyes. This is the thing I was always afraid of, the look in my father’s eyes that says I’m a morally-less girl who has fallen for her brother. I look down, unable to meet his gaze.
“Adopted brother. They are not related by blood, Alexander,” Mama speaks in a tight tone.
I look toward the door from which Zoan has left. It’s now raining outside.
Mama makes Daddy let go of my arm. I run toward the door, but he has already left. The lights of his car shine down the road, then vanish behind the trees.
I stay at the door until Mama comes by my side and wipes my tears. “You did nothing wrong. No need to feel shame or guilt. Your father will understand it, I promise.”
I nod.
“Now call Zo and talk with him,” she says, patting my cheek.
I walk upstairs to Zoan’s room and find my phone on the bed.
Zloban
My phone rings, the different ringtone I use for her calls echoes in the silent car. I pick up, keeping my eyes on the empty road.
“Zoan, where are you?” she asks in a small voice.
“Going to office penthouse.”
After a pause, she asks, “Are you okay?”
I hum, not liking the sadness in her voice. “Go to bed. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to Daddy?”
“He is angry. Things wouldn’t have ended well even if I had talked back. I will come back tomorrow morning and talk to him.”
“Drive safely. It’s raining. I will call you once you reach the penthouse,” she mutters.
I hum. She cuts the call.
Suddenly, my senses go on high alert. I scan the road, trying to figure out what’s wrong, but nothing looks unusual. This stretch of road outside the city is always silent late at night.
And then my AI assistant, Vault, announces, “Zloban, there are vehicles coming from all directions. One kilometre away from us.”
“How many?” I ask.
“Ten. Moving closer.”
My phone rings. I ask Vault to pick it up. It’s Dad’s call.
“Where are you?” His voice is anxious.
“On my way to the office.”
“Come back. You are under attack!” he shouts.
The vehicles from behind and in front come into my vision. “They have reached.”
“Fuck! Stay there in the car. I’m coming,” I shout. He cuts the call.
All ten SUVs start circling my car.
“Defence turned on,” Vault announces.
Four vehicles speed toward me from four directions. Two emergency missiles fire and hit two of them, but that doesn’t stop the other two from approaching.
They come closer, and right before they can hit my car, I accelerate backward at 180 km/hr, and the two SUVs collide.
I roll down my window on my side, and just as expected, the windows of the SUVs roll down, and four men start firing. I move my car in a circle, blocking the shots with the back of my car, then roll up my window, slide the back seat window open, and take four shots at the men firing.
At this time, two more SUVs come from the front, and I can’t escape because of the shooting.
They hit both sides. The impact is strong, but the damage isn’t too severe.
They move back to take another hit as I push my car forward.
Another SUV hits me on the side, and then one more comes from behind.
Now my car is trapped between six of theirs.
They start hitting my car from all sides. I estimate my car could take a maximum of twenty hits before breaking down completely. It will take our men and Dad five more minutes to reach here.
The metal starts bending inward from the continuous hits. Ten more hits land. I wear my harness and ready my guns rapidly during the next five hits. My side of the car is now pressing against me.
“Vault, start self-destruction.”
“Yes, Zloban.”
The SUV on my side moves back and, just in time, I open the door and roll onto the road.
The men see me move and stop their cars.
I use the five seconds they take to roll down their windows to start shooting—then dart behind the SUV closest to me and punch its tail lights.
I take shots at the others’ lights as well.
The rain is reducing visibility significantly.
Bullets fire in my direction while I’m crouched down, rounds slam into the car against my back.
And just on cue, my car blasts, an explosion loud enough to seize everyone’s attention for more than ten seconds. That’s enough time for me to change position.
I run into the woods and climb the first tall, strong tree I come to. I lie down on a thick branch and watch their movements. Five men come into view. I attach the silencer to my gun and take them out. Before any of them can react, they’re all lying dead on the muddy ground.
The rain turns heavier, adding noise that helps me judge the positions of the others. I spot nine of them moving carefully, scanning the area. Five more are behind them.
No matter how cautiously I fire, eventually they’ll pinpoint my location.
I activate the silencer on my other gun and start firing.
Shot after shot goes out, but I’m not quick enough to kill them all before they converge.
Soon a bullet comes toward me. I dodge, it slams into the back of the tree.
Then another follows, this one I can’t dodge without risking a fall, and it hits me in the stomach.
I keep firing. I’m at an advantage because of my CIP. I don’t know how painful it really is, people say bullet wounds are enough to stop you from moving. Another shot comes that I manage to dodge, but a subsequent round tears into me below my chest.
With two bullets inside me, darkness edges into my vision and I find myself blinking constantly.
More men converge, more gunfire rattles through the trees.
I successfully avoid eight bullets but can’t dodge two of them.
Then a third round comes for my stomach, I block it with my leg and take the hit on my outer thigh.
My aim starts failing, but still I manage to drop a few of them. There are too many now and everyone knows my location. A few more bullets and I’m done for.
I slide silently down the tree. It will take them a minute to reach this spot.
I pull off my shoes and move through the forest on bare feet.
The shouts and footsteps behind me grow close.
I press myself against a trunk and wait.
Voices from where I was call out: “He was here.” “He must be close.” “Are those his shoes?” “Damn it, we can’t lose him. ” “Find him.”
Footsteps scatter around, a few come my way. My consciousness is slipping.
“Careful. He can be anywhere,” says a voice very near. I force my eyes open and clutch my guns tightly.
“H—he’s not here. Let’s go,” another man replies.
“Let’s search further.”
“I—I don’t think he’s here.”
“Why are you shaking? He’s alone and he must have a few shots.”
“He has killed more than half our men alone. We are just two.”
I pick up a stone from beside me and throw it inward.
The men stop and walk slowly toward the side where I tossed it.
As their backs come into my view, I grab both guns, aim at their heads, and shoot.
They fall to the ground with loud thuds.
I crawl forward, change my position, and move to the other side.
Soon after, two more men who were close reach my position, I take shots at them as well.
Then the sound of gunfire starts coming from the roadside.
Dad is here.
I rest my back against the tree.
“Mr. Bennett!” my men shout. I push up, holding the tree for support.
“Zloban!” Dad’s voice cuts through, then Leo’s.
My hands are shaking as I remove the silencer from my gun. I fire into the air. The shouting stops. I fire again and again until I lose the strength to keep standing, then I fall.
Matleon
There are bodies everywhere. The precise bullet holes in their heads tell the story of who killed them. The remaining attackers are now down, our men finished them off. There were at least fifty, he killed more than thirty. But where is he?
I shout his name. “Zloban!”
Then we hear a single gunshot. Everyone goes silent.
Another shot. I look at Uncle, and we start moving toward the direction of the sound.
Another shot rings out from the same area.
We pick up the pace, and when we get there, we find him lying on the ground, unconscious.
We move fast and lift him up. The rain washes the mud away, and the blood flowing from his body becomes visible. He has been shot.
“Put him on my back,” I tell Uncle.
He and the men beside us help move him onto my back. I hold him tight and start running toward the road. His chest rises and falls very slowly against my back.
“If you die, I will kill your dove. So think twice before dying.”
We reach the roadside. My men open the car doors and help lay him inside. I close the door and sit behind the wheel. Uncle takes the passenger seat.
“Drive fast.”
I engage the gear and accelerate to 150 km/hr.
We reach the hospital in five minutes. The doctors have already been informed about the situation. A stretcher is waiting at the entrance. I help the staff move him onto it.
We follow the stretcher until he is secured behind the doors of the operating room. Uncle and I sit in front of the closed doors.
“I asked him to leave the house,” Uncle says, his voice filled with guilt and sadness.
“He will be fine. He is not that easy to kill.” Although I speak confidently, my own hands are shaking. He has been shot in three places, and blood is still flowing from each wound.
I clasp my hands together, trying to stop them from trembling.
After a long time, a nurse comes out. We both stand as she approaches.
“The patient’s condition is very critical,” she says. “He has lost a lot of blood, and the bullets have caused huge damage. We are trying our best, and there is a chance of survival, but nothing can be said for certain right now.”
I clench my fists at my sides. Her words echo in my mind, word after word.
She goes back inside after delivering the message.
I look at Uncle. “I have something important to do. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I’m not letting the motherfucker who did this to my brother sleep in peace.
After leaving the hospital I drive toward Saint Stone to prepare for destroying everything Charlie Flisher owns, and him.
He is the son of Canadian king Declan Flisher.
He wants revenge for his father’s death at Zo’s hands years ago, and for the way his family was forced to flee overnight when we seized control of their country.
He was in Ireland all these years, ruling there.
Here his base is in L.A. He wasn’t on our radar at first, and in the time we weren’t watching him he built up a lot of power.
He only came to our attention after he ordered a hit on Zo at the New Year party. We’d been planning to finish him since then and had everything prepared. We were about to launch, but he moved first. I clench the steering wheel, the image of Zo’s bleeding body keeps flashing in my head.
“I changed my mind,” I mutter to myself. “If you die, I’ll marry her off to someone who will make her really happy, and your dead ass will burn in jealousy when you see it from above.”
My phone rings. I tell my AI assistant to pick it up. Avi’s tense voice comes through the line.
“Leo, do you know where Zoan is? He’s not answering my calls.”
“He’s tied up with important business right now. Something urgent came up, he’ll call you back as soon as he’s free.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah. He’s fine.”
“Okay, tell him to call me back when he can.”
“Okay.”
I can’t even imagine how badly she’ll react when she finds out the truth.