Chapter Twenty-Eight
Zahra
“Hey, motherfucker!”
My voice rang out into the night as I rushed after him.
He stopped, shoulders slumping, head dropping as he turned with a glare.
I let out short, sharp, tired breaths, stopping right in front of his imposing figure, straightening my spine with determination even though my limbs begged for relief.
“If you have a message to pass to your underboss and brother, you do that shit yourself.” I led with that, my eyes dead set on him.
“It’s a simple task—”
“Do I look like a suicide note?” I was livid. I wanted to bash his head in. Anything to ease the fucking guilt lingering in the pit of my stomach. “We’re gonna get our asses back in that car, and you’re gonna drive us to the compound and deliver your fucking message yourself.”
He actually looked like he was considering it before shaking his head. “That will be inconvenient.”
I threw my hands up and dropped them down in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Drive back to the compound, and just do as you’re told for once.”
“Like hell I will,” I said, baffled at what was happening. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll leave you here after your little speech in the car.”
With his hand that held the gun, he moved to rub his brows, closing his eyes for a second as he shook his head before opening his eyes and pinning me with a glower that had me stepping back a little.
“Allow me to get this straight,” he said. “You told me, just a few hours ago, to hurry up and do what I need to do, and now that I’m trying to do it, you want to stop me—”
“But I already apolo—”
“Shut up.”
“—gized. I’m not going to leave—”
“Shut up.”
“—you. This is fucking insane, Elio! You can’t expect me just to let you—”
“Shut up!” He took a step closer to me. “Shut up.” Another until he was standing right in front of me.
“Shut the fuck up, Zahra!” he yelled in my face, and I inched back; his breathing was harsh, and so was mine.
“Stop messing with my head. I am impressionable; words aren’t just words for me.
They’re affirmations. You apologized—thank you for your apology, but it means absolutely fucking nothing to me. ”
I gulped down.
“No matter what you say,” he continued, “or how much you apologize, I will never forget every word you said by that roadside. It’ll always be in my head.
I’ll always hear you repeat it over and over again.
When I see you, that’s all I’ll think about; when I hear you speak, it’s all I’ll hear because that’s how my brain works. ”
I stepped closer to him. “But I didn’t mean it. I was angry because it has been a long fucking day,” I sighed. “No matter how much we don’t like each other, I would have never said that to you if I had known you would take it seriously.”
“Well, this is the situation I find myself in. Don’t feel guilty. This was my plan all along; I’m only making it quicker.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” I countered with a confused frown, stepping away from him. “That’s not how tonight’s gonna go.”
“Go back to the car, Zahra.”
I stretched my hand. “Give me the gun.”
His gaze slipped to my hand and back to my face with a stern glare. “Go back. To the car. Zahra,” he repeated, a warning in his voice, one filled with so much venom, so much hate and frustration, but I couldn’t leave him like this.
I stood straighter. “Give me the fucking gun.”
He shook his head slowly. “Don’t push me.”
“Just give me the gun, and then we can talk. Just—” I swallowed to ease the tightness in my chest. “You know I’m not gonna let you do this.”
It took a second. Just one second for his whole demeanor to change. The anger slipped from his eyes, his breathing calmed, and his eyes, completely vacant, were watching me in silence. It was like a switch had been turned off inside him, and I grew even more wary.
“Elio?”
“I love it,” he said, voice flat and unfeeling.
I frowned. “What … what are you talking about now?”
“The fear my presence compels in people.” He examined the gun in his hand.
“The smell of blood, and death, and suffering, and tears.” He closed his eyes as if he could see and smell all he just listed.
“It’s like heaven. Chaos, massacres.” He opened his eyes.
“I crave it like oxygen. I fucking love it, Zahra, shooting that boy, it felt so fucking good.”
I locked my jaw. “You’re lying.”
He scanned my body from head to toe, slowly, tentatively, until his intense, vacant gaze locked with mine. Then he moved, closing the space between us enough for me to crane my neck, looking up at him, my breathing unsteady.
He raised the gun, trailing the barrel’s mouth from my forehead, past my brows, down my cheek, and to the surface of my bottom lip, where he stopped, and raised his gaze.
“One thing you should never do, Zahra, is make a hero out of me. I have killed men, women,… people I care for. I have lost count of people who screamed my name before I ended their lives, I have taken and taken and taken more than I should, and I don’t regret any of it.
The most beautiful thing is that the business is just a cover-up for how fucked up my head is, for how much I love what I do.
” He pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes as he swallowed and said, “How much I long for it.”
My throat worked. “You’re just saying that.”
“You don’t believe it? I’m not surprised.
People love to underestimate me and make assumptions based on my actions.
He’s kind sometimes; he’s calm. He doesn’t care; all he wants is power; he’s all talk and no action.
Do you want to know why that is? It’s because the people who are supposed to confirm the action are either six feet under or fish food.
The stories you hear about The Wicked are just a scratch in the surface of what I’m capable of. ”
He drew back from me, still in my face, as he opened his eyes. “If you don’t want to know, firsthand, what I’m truly capable of, how I could ruin you and serve you your worst fears on a silver platter, you’ll walk back to that car and drive away from me.”
I swallowed, grinding my teeth together as I said, “No.”
His jaw locked. “Don’t make me kill you, Zahra.”
“You’ve tried several times before; it didn’t work.”
“Go.”
“I’m not leaving here without you,” I told him. “Everything you just said might be true, but I’ve seen you hold off from shooting and killing people just because you didn’t want to hurt the ones related to them. Maybe you’re not so far gone.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand.
Nobody ever understands—that explosion, the chaos we caused, the people who might have died.
It drove me to the edge; I was gripping that gun so tight because of how much I loved it and wanted to make sure no one survived it.
Make sure I finish the job. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to like it, I don’t want to do it, because when I do, it’s the best feeling in this world …
That’s how sick I am, Zahra. And that’s why you’re right.
This world would be a much better place without me in it. ”
“All right, but give me the gun.”
“If I don’t go in there and kill my father, everything you told me in that restaurant will mean nothing to me. If I leave here, go back to the compound, alive, I will be worse than I am now. Is that what you want?”
I paused, watching him with confusion. “Your … father?”
“Yes, my father.”
I blinked at him. There was no sign of a joke in his eyes. He was completely serious right now. “Your father’s dead, Elio.”
He remained quiet.
I bit the inside of my cheek, changing my approach and asking him directly without making assumptions from what I’d heard. “Is your father dead?”
“No.”
I took in a shaky breath, taking a step back. “What do you—”
“He’s alive. In this building.”
“All this time?”
“Yes.”
I watched him for a long time, my eyes flickering between his as I said quietly, “I think you need help, Elio.”
“I’m well aware.”
Something cold ran down my spine as I turned to look at the motel and then back to him. “Jesus Christ … you need serious help, Elio. Why won’t you get help?”
“Because I’m…” He trailed off, seeming confused. “… Undeserving of it…”
I swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay, w-well, nothing you say will make me leave here without you. I don’t care if you’re a sick psychopath who doesn’t wanna get help; I am not leaving unless you get in the car with me.”
Staring at me for a moment too long, he sighed, dropping his head like he was running thoughts through his mind, and then he looked back at me and outstretched the gun towards me.
I didn’t let my shock last, grabbing the weapon and letting out a breath of relief. “I know my words might mean nothing right now, but I really didn’t mean what I said, and I’m sorry. I really am.”
Without another word, he walked past me towards the direction of the car.
I sighed, watching his retreating form.
In about half an hour, we reached the compound, and Elio pulled over right in front of the quarters where I stayed with Street.
Still uneasy, I bid him good night and got out of the car; his gun was still with me, and I knew it was useless because I was pretty sure he had more guns in his possession.
Looking around, soldiers were guarding the area here and there, and I walked towards the house.
The sound of the car door opening and closing had me stopping and turning to see Elio approaching me. “I’m not giving you your gun back,” I said, clearing that up.
“You can keep it,” he said, now standing before me.
“All right.” I nodded, turning to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Wait.”
His hold on my wrist was warm, and the feeling somehow managed to creep up my skin in a way that had my heart pumping blood to my body with the main purpose of making me flush.
“What,” I stated in question, unable to stop my gaze from flickering to his lips.
Elio mirrored my action but made no move. “You won’t tell anyone about my father.”