Chapter 39 #2
"Lucius and Raven have different mothers," Grandma says, finally throwing the answer into the dusty air, shattering the silence.
Kai and Kael’s jaws drop in unison, completely stunned by the revelation. The bloodlines are fractured; the legacy is split. Kai gapes at her, his voice failing him for a second before he can force the words out. "What? Really? How is that even possible?"
Grandma ignores the outburst for a moment, stepping deeper into the shadows of the attic towards a stack of old, decaying boxes.
She pulls down a heavy crate overflowing with thousands of old letters, but as she lifts the massive weight, her fragile balance slips on the uneven floorboards.
Spotting her stumble, Kai and Kael rush forward instantly, their movements frantic as they catch her, supporting her weight and taking the heavy boxes straight out of her trembling hands.
Steadying herself against Kai’s arm, Grandma looks up at him to finally answer the lingering question.
"Marius Blackwood made a strict vow, a blood oath that neither brother would speak of the other until Marius dies. He wanted those separated, independent weapons."
She takes a slow, shaky breath, raising a frail hand to silence them.
"No more questions for now. Just listen to me. There are three boxes here. Wait, I forgot one more—the tape recorder box."
She turns back into the deepest shadows of the attic, retrieving a small, dust-coated plastic container before heading back down the narrow stairs to the living room, the brothers following with the heavy crates.
"The first box contains letters Marius wrote to Tessa’s father, Arthur Jones," Grandma explains, setting the first container down on the heavy carpet. "The second box holds the letters Arthur wrote to his beloved wife, Shaanvi Rathor Jones."
Kael suddenly cuts across her speech, his voice sharp, questioning, and laced with deep suspicion. "Rathor Jones?"
Grandma shoots him a firm, unyielding look that brooks no interruption. "First take those boxes outside, place them where we can breathe, then ask your questions."
One by one, the brothers carry the heavy crates out of the cramped space, placing them carefully on the living room floor. Once they finish the physical labour, Grandma looks out the large window, a bittersweet, painful smile touching her faded lips.
"My daughter did not want to change her last name when she married," Grandma says softly, her voice carrying the weight of a ghost.
"So she spoke with Arthur personally about the surname. At the time, he loved her so fiercely that he told her she could have whatever she wanted. Shaanvi suggested combining them to Rathor Jones. Arthur just laughed, holding her close. Oh, those days were the loveliest times for my daughter.
But the hyphenated surname is entirely unofficial, you see. Her full name is officially recorded in the state documents as Shaanvi Jones."
"The third box," Grandma continues, her voice dropping into a fragile whisper as she points to the last container, "holds only the final letters Shaanvi sends to Marius about her dead husband. You can find the conversations that happen right after Tessa’s birth there. There are not too many letters,
but they are enough to show the horror."
She reaches deep into the box, pulling out a dusty, mechanical object and a cracked, ancient mobile device. "Then, here is the box of the tape recorder. And here is the phone. I do not know if you can recover something with that technology or not, but it is all left behind."
Kai reaches down, his fingers brushing against the fragile paper of a loose leaf. He scans the faded ink, his jaw clenching. "This is a letter your daughter writes to her mother. To Meera." He looks up, his eyes wide as he confirms the identity. "That is you."
Kael steps closer, the psychological tension peaking as he prepares to ask the most dangerous question of the morning. "Can I ask you something else?"
"Yes, of course," Grandma replies, her voice steadying.
"How does Tessa’s mother die?" Kael asks, his voice dropping into a tense, quiet register that makes the room feel freezing cold.
Grandma holds her breath, the air leaving her lungs all at once as the horrific memory resurfaces in vivid detail.
The silence stretches, suffocating and vast, before she speaks.
"Don Gambino sends his men," she whispers, her voice trembling with a decade-old grief.
"He instructs them to kill my daughter. They find her in a crowded public market. Gunshots ring out in the middle of the screams. In that horrific moment... Tessa is so young. She is perhaps only eight years old when she watches her mother bleed out on the cold stone floor."
The brutal revelation hangs in the air, a devastating piece of the puzzle that links Tessa’s childhood trauma directly to the warring crime families.
Suddenly, at exactly 12:40 pm, the shrill, violent ring of a mobile phone shatters the silence. The sound makes everyone flinch. Kai reaches into his pocket, pulling out the vibrating device. Victor's name flashes on the screen in bright, aggressive letters.
Kai presses the phone to his ear, his jaw clenching as his eyes narrow. "Speak."
"The fourth warehouse just blasted," Victor’s voice barks through the receiver, laced with static, panic, and distant sirens. "It's a total loss. We are under attack."
The words hit Kai like a physical blow. In an instant, his throat turns completely dry, parched like the Sahara Desert.
The psychological dread of an on-going mafia war crashes down on them, destroying the quiet sanctuary of the house.
He grips the phone tighter, his voice turning cold, professional, and lethal. "We are coming right now."
He terminates the call with a snap and looks directly at Grandma, the urgency in his movements sharp and precise. "We have to go immediately. We are taking these boxes with us to safety."
They move with rapid, coordinated efficiency, packing the three crates of letters, the tape recorder, and the old phone into secure transport cases.
But before they head out the heavy front door, Kai stops.
Knowing Grandma’s Indian heritage and wanting to leave her with a tangible piece of comfort in this freezing house, he pulls out a beautifully woven, rich silk shawl they brought with them from their travels.
He steps close and gently drapes the warm, luxurious fabric over her fragile shoulders.
"Grandma, this is a gift from us," Kai says softly, a rare flash of genuine, human warmth breaking through his hardened criminal exterior.
He then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a brand-new, secure smartphone, placing it gently into her weathered hands.
"And take this. Look here—I already save all our numbers alongside our names in large letters. Whenever you feel lonely, or whenever you want to talk to us, you can just press this green icon."
Grandma looks down at the sleek, modern device, a helpless, bewildered expression crossing her face as she turns it over.
"My age is too advanced, child. What am I to do with these modern things? How do I even use something like this?"
"Oh, Grandma, do not take any tension," Kai chunks softly, his tone lightening as he tries to ease her immediate anxiety.
He pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen, rapidly writing down a clear, bold, step-by-step list in plain language.
"See? Just follow this paper. It tells you exactly what to press, what to do, and what not to do if the screen goes dark."
Kael steps up beside his brother, adjusting the heavy cases of stolen secrets in his hands.
"I already connect this device to another secure phone of ours at the headquarters. If anything goes wrong, or if something goes askew with the system settings, we can fix it remotely from our end. You will never be disconnected from us."
Grandma’s eyes well with sudden, thick tears that reflect the dim light of the living room. She looks at the two dangerous brothers, her heart aching at the impending, crushing loneliness of the empty house. "When do you leave?"
"We exit the house at 3:00 pm," Kael answers, glancing down at his watch with a frown. "It is already 2:15 pm. We talk for a long time, and the hours slip away from us completely. We must prepare the vehicle."
Grandma wipes a stray tear from her wrinkled cheek, staring at them with a profound, quiet sadness that speaks of years of isolation.
For so many years, no one comes to this house for companionship.
People only cross this threshold for a dark purpose, for business, for threats, or for violence.
But today, for the first time in a decade, Grandma feels a deep, undeniable psychological attachment to these two brothers.
As she watches them protect her, care for her comfort, and offer her a lifeline to the outside world, she feels as if they are not just Lucius's cold-blooded soldiers—she feels as if they are her very own grandsons, leaving her behind in the dark.
~