49. Killian
Maverick hesitates, but not for long.
“When Maricela came to me, her face looked like a concrete truck with a full tank of gas had hit her. She had broken bones, a cast on her arm and hand, and was clearly injured in other ways as well. From what I understood, Ronen saved her, but she didn’t want to stay in the US. She said she needed money, a job. She was living with Ronen at the time. That’s how I met him.” Maverick says Ronen’s name as if he’s in love with him.
A man like him can’t love anyone but himself, and the fake ideology he’s created for himself in this creative mind of his will be his downfall.
“Go on.” I brace myself for the worst, but I need to know, and I’m not sure it’s Maricela’s job to provide me with this information. Besides, she told me she won’t.
“Maricela wasn’t ready to tell me anything. But I’m an expert, so I made my inquiries. Franco had already spread rumors about Maricela’s death abroad. He was looking for her body.”
“Why would he look for her body?”
“That part I’m not sure about. Probably only Maricela could tell you.” Or it’s all written in a notebook you refuse to read because you’re a coward. I refuse to give the voice in my head a place at the table right now, so I ignore it.
“And did she tell you about this supposed pregnancy?” That last word is like a knife in my heart, the same knife I used to cut off Franco’s cock.
“No. A few days after she started working with me, she felt unwell, to the point she lost consciousness. I had to take her to the emergency room, and there I heard it all. Maricela took a knife to her uterus. She hurt herself because she thought she was pregnant with Franco’s child. The E.R. doc recommended she see a specialist, but when I asked her about it, she said she couldn’t and that it would be her punishment for taking a life.”
“You should have insisted and paid for anything she needed, you son of a bitch.” I bang my fist on the desk, and he jumps. Finally, Maverick understands who he’s messing with.
“I offered. She didn’t want to. She said if she did, you might find her.” I nod because I know it’s the truth. I looked for her everywhere, and Maricela knew I wasn’t the type to give up on her. I looked for her for four years and would have kept looking if she hadn’t returned on her own. Changing her name made it difficult, and leaving the country, constantly moving from one place to another, made it more so. But in the end, she came back to me.
“When did she start working with you if she was in such a state after having an abortion?”
“Well, she didn’t exactly have an abortion, did she? She hurt herself, but it was before she came to me. Ronen begged her to talk to him, to tell him what she did. She said that the child could have been the wolf monster’s and that she couldn’t give birth to a child of rape.”
My hands are shaking, and I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but he recoils. “That wasn’t what I asked. Did she get any treatment, at least?”
He shakes his head.
So, she ran and hid herself away by going to work with Maverick Hope. I never kept my search for her a secret. Everyone who knew me knew that finding Maricela was my top priority. But no one knew where she was except him. Maverick knew where she was all that time and didn’t even hint that he had information I wanted. More than that, he must have seen it as having power over me.
True, I could be angry with Ronen, Julian, and even Raven for knowing as much as they did and keeping it from me, but they were loyal to Maricela, and for that, I’m thankful.
The son of a bitch standing in front of me did it to keep her by his side. And she was never his.
“Is that all you know?”
I look into his eyes for a hint of falsehood in his frightened expression. He doesn’t say a word, but I see he has no more information about Maricela, and the information he did have about her didn’t come to him by her choice.
“Yes,” he finally says. “So if you’re done, I’ll leave now, and I won’t bother you again.”
He takes a step back as if to leave but hesitates. He’s facing a predator, and he knows it. He also knows I won’t let him off so easily.
“First, your recorder,” I demand, and he pulls the device from his pocket and sets it on the desk.
“Second, you will not go near my woman and children again because I promise if you do, these pictures will make the news worldwide. Not only will your career be over, but your entire life as you know it will be over the moment you go against me in any way.”
Maverick nods and hurries from the office as if afraid I’ll exact some additional revenge given the chance.
The second the door closes, I release my rath again, not stopping until I’ve destroyed the whole office. No one interrupts, and no one is around who would dare come near me right now. Kai and Maddox are out of the office, and Liam is already on his way to the island where Raven is being held.
The thought of Raven has me kicking a chair and sending it flying, breaking a few more items I missed during my prior rounds.
I don’t know how long it takes me to calm down enough to drop to my knees. I open the drawer where I keep all of Franco’s journals and stare down at them. I promised Isabella I would find all the women who were raped by Franco and see if they’re okay, if they need any help, but since Raven was taken, I haven’t had time.
Still, these journals and the knowledge they hold have always been somewhere in the back of my mind. I didn’t touch them, maybe because I knew Maricela was one of the women on that list.
I sit on the floor, as all my chairs are in splintered pieces and take out the notebook with the word “Rape” written on it. Many things could be said about Franco Fierro, but originality isn’t one of them.
Franco’s messy, minimalistic script appears before my eyes. I can almost see him checking my school reports and signing all the teacher’s notes before punishing me for everything I did to protect Raven, Maddox and my mother.
I don’t read the deeds he lays out in detail and the names of his victims, skimming until I find the name of a woman I know. I’m sorry to see that Mrs. Banks is one of the women Franco made a victim. I could have avenged her back in college had I known then, but it’s too late for that now. Knowing Maddox as I do, I’ll leave it to him to deliver reparations, as he’ll want to do what little he can. If he forgives her, that is. I don’t know if I could.
It takes me a few moments more to reach the name I know is here. The ugly scroll would have made it difficult for anybody else to read it, but I learned to write just like him by age ten.
I never thought I would take this task upon myself. Maricela’s cunt was supposed to be Santino’s. He took his little woman and her sister under his wing. He even tried to conquer her with gifts, thinking he could charm her into his bed. I told him it was impossible, that she was not just some gold-digging whore. No, Maricela thinks she’s too good for the likes of a Fierro. Or at least that’s what I believed. She’s brave, I can admit that. And now Killian wants her. He fucked her and still wants her.
The son I never wanted. I wasn’t looking for more children, but when he came anyway, I should have been more brutal with him. He does not and will never have Santino’s brutality or my thirst for blood.
He asked for her, and I agreed, even though I had no intention of allowing him to ever have her. He can’t claim her if she isn’t here, and so after sending Killian away, I set my plan into motion.
My instructions were explicit. Break Maricela, or I won’t let you marry Killian. She’s so simple, that little whore. They are all like that, walking on two legs, their heads nearly empty, without any purpose other than to bring life and pleasure. So, knowing she wouldn’t get what she wanted otherwise, she did my bidding just as instructed. And it worked.
Maricela cried her eyes out. I saw it. I thought she would come to the mansion sooner, but she went to her orphanage first. I watched, and I listened without her knowing I was there. I let her talk. She talked a lot. I think she realized I would be coming to hunt her. Girls from the street are more intelligent in this sense. They sense the danger lurking.
I heard her talking with Serena one day. She told her sister that she didn’t want to run away anymore. But today, I made her want to run away. I made sure of it.
She entered the house and started packing her things. She almost managed to trick me and escape between my legs, but I led her into a trap. She screamed as much or more than Isabella, that whore, screamed when I penetrated her.
Every tear and every drop of her blood was my gift to Killian. If he finds out what I did, he’ll take revenge. I have no doubt about that. I’ve seen how he looks at her. She’s his weakness. He continually allows himself weakness despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve tried to beat into him. Most men are miserable in that sense. Give them a tight cunt and beautiful eyes, and they become enslaved. But not me. I have never let any woman control me. And I will not let my son, my blood, fall into something as absurd as love.
I enjoyed her every scream, every struggle and knew I had won when she stopped screaming. When she no longer struggled, no longer moved, I thought I had killed her. That was long after I’d broken her arm. She screamed, begged for Killian to save her, for anyone to save her, she fought, and she cried, and then it all stopped. I thought I had killed her, but she was just beyond pain, beyond the tears. And if I hadn’t been so horny for her pussy, I would have stopped and waited to do it all over again. I would have made her scream and scream some more, but instead, I fucked her even after she passed out.
She bled. She bled so much that anyone would have thought I’d murdered her. It turned me on even more, so I smeared myself with her blood. I had nothing to worry about, after all. I’m usually careful. Whores sleep with anyone these days. But I knew she had only been with Killian.
She thought she was so pure and that she belonged to only one man, but I made sure she was broken once and for all. I made sure she was no longer pure, no longer worth anything more than the whore she was always meant to be. Now, she can give her body to anyone she wants. That is if there’s anything left to give.
I read his words over and over and over. The scream, or more the howl of anguish that erupts from me, brings Maddox to my office. I don’t know how long it takes for him to calm me down. It’s like my body no longer belongs to me. The rage, the hatred, and the desire to bring Franco back to life and make him suffer for eternity consume me.
“Killer, you’re not—” Maddox stops mid-sentence when he looks into my eyes.
I wonder what he sees—how much of what I’m feeling inside shows. Neither of us speaks. There’s no need for words.
He helps me pick up the scattered pieces of furniture and the smashed computer that replaced the one I broke earlier. Then suddenly, I’m heading for the door without stopping to consider what I intend to do.
“Where are you going?” Maddox asks. I don’t answer him and let my legs take me. My body seems to move without me controlling it, and smartly, he doesn’t come after me.
I know I’m driving, although I have no idea where I’m going, and when I come to a stop, I’m surprised to find myself at the dream house of all places.
Maricela didn’t come back here after what Franco did to her. I know that because I’ve visited the orphanage many times since she left. I always thought she would come here first of all places.
In the first few days, I would watch this place, expecting her to pop up here at any moment. After several weeks passed, I stopped coming myself, but I arranged to have someone in my organization surveil the orphanage twenty-four/seven.
It wasn’t until a year later that Nonna told me Maricela wasn’t coming back. Nonna reminded me that Maricela was a bird and told me that she’d gone off to see the world. I even believed her. If only I knew then that my bird flew away from me not because I clipped her wings but because someone much worse had.
I want to believe in some higher power, that the Devil will make sure Franco suffers worse than any revenge I could inflict. Even if I have to give the same accounting, and that will surely come my way, I will gladly pay for every drop of blood I have on my hands as long as I know Franco continues to be punished for his actions.
“So, you’ve come back again,” the old woman calls out with a raspy chuckle from her perch on the front steps.
I unwittingly chose our vehicle to come here. I guess I needed to feel close to Maricela, and that’s why I chose this vehicle and this place. I don’t know how she can love me after everything I’ve done to her—after everything he did—but it seems I subconsciously knew I needed to talk to someone who knows her.
I step out of the car and start toward Nonna, the familiar stench of cheap cigarettes and sweet perfume overwhelming my senses. If I could, I would use this smell as an additional torture for my enemies. Maybe I will shower Alec with the smell before I take his head off.
“Why did you come, kid? I know she’s back. She’s called me several times already. Serena’s dead, I know everything.”
“Everything?” I ask as I reach the step below Nonna. “Do you know why she left?” The old woman raises a hand, now marred with wrinkles and age spots, and motions for me to follow her into her office, just like the days I came to her to ask if Maricela had returned.
Nonna’s office is full of drawings that small children with no talent have painted for her, giving me another gut punch. These drawings differ greatly from the ones Raven used to create at that age. She has the same talent Isabella has, and now that the truth is out in the open, I despise every day that passes keeping the two of them apart.
“What else could have made her leave, other than you?” The old woman says rhetorically and without looking in my direction.
She can barely move without a lot of effort, but despite her questionable lifestyle, she still has the power to tease someone like me. The problem is that I’m a man without power today.
“Franco raped her when I was in Italy. She wanted to leave after Lila’s video, sure, I get that. But she wouldn’t have stayed away for long and would have come back and confronted me. She would never have left Serena and Connie. You know that.”
Nonna frowns and stubs out her cigarette. “Crazy son of a bitch. He never settled for whores who moaned like he was the king of orgasms. God bless his nasty soul.”
“If this god exists, he doesn’t bless Franco at all. At best, whatever’s left of him is being eaten by bugs. At worst, he’s met the devil.”
“Is Franco dead then?” The choked sounds that come from her, I assume, are notes of joy. “Tell me he suffered.”
“Yes, and he left behind a diary of sorts. He wrote down everything he did to her.”
Nonna looks at me, and for the first time, I think her small eyes scan the dead blue inside my soul.
I don’t know what she finds there, but the deep breath she lets out makes me want to scream again. Maricela would kill me if I damaged this place—it’s sacred to her—so it’s a good thing I’ve managed to regain some control.
“And let me guess,” the old woman begins, leaning forward in her chair. “You’ve read every sick word, and now you don’t know how you’re going to look the woman you love in the eyes.” She lets out a raspy chuckle that holds no amusement whatsoever.
“And knowing the man you are, you’re going to ruin everything. Did you screw up after you found out about the rape?”
“Yes,” I answer, but she sees my hesitation.
“Let me guess again. You thought you were too hard on her, that you should be gentle with her now and that she wouldn’t tell you anything if you were yourself with her?”
“She was raped!” I shout the words and regret it, even though the children aren’t here at the moment.
They’re in the organized classes I arranged for them regularly since I took over the running of the place.
“You have no right to take her desires away from her. That doesn’t make her any less of a woman. She was a victim. She chose to face it. If she’s having sex with you, fuck her the way you want to, the way you know she likes it, and move on with your life. Trust me, kid, life is much more complicated than sex. If you stay together, the routine will come. You’ll have to work on it, work on not killing your relationship.”
When I don’t immediately speak, she continues. “Life is shit, and you know that better than I do. Your tattoos tell the story. Your story, no matter what fancy suit hides it now, is still your story, and it will follow you no matter where life takes you. You’re still the same battered boy whose father abused him and turned him into a monster.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to love her. You’re supposed to be there when she’s suddenly distant from the world and give her a place in yours. Be next to her and see that she doesn’t ever want to leave this world. You have to support her, not feel sorry for her. Give her all of you. Tell her what you’re going through, what you think and what you feel. Tell her what you want and what you want for her.”
“I know what Franco taught his children,” she continues.
“I’ve heard the rumors. Emotions are not poison, my boy. The lack of emotion is the real poison.”
I never thought I would hear these words from a pimp like Nonna.