He got right into my face, the only person in my life able to do so, and he spat out, “I made oaths, promises, on the moon and the earth—the spirits. You’re making me a filthy liar, and that makes me twitchy. You know how the saying goes: twitchy times call for bloody designs.” He whipped his head around the room, “And I think this room really needs a makeover. A splash of red to make the white marble pop.”
I raised a brow at him, a glint of silver shining next to him like a warning beacon, but I wasn't afraid. I'd long ago thought that I would die by my little brother's hand; I felt he was owed that kind of retribution for having a failure of an older brother. Just not yet. I haven't set him and Ion up yet.
“You forget who we are, Brother. What is the goal of being here?”
His eyes flared, some of that deep manic rage boiled up, and his body jerked as his voice went low and slow. “You think I could ever forget the filthy, dirty blood that ties us? What were we tricked, beaten, and lied into being?” He cackled into the sky, the sound so hollow and depressing that my chest squeezed. “No, big brother. No matter what is jumbled up in here,” his finger dug into his skull, “I’ll never forget what we are, what I am… but I’m no scumbag liar!”
I hated that his venomous words could sink past my decade's worth of hard exterior and infect my soul so easily, but this wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my back. I needed to show strength and stability in front of my brothers, which they both seemed to lack so severely. Taking a step forward, we were chest to chest, myself a few inches taller as I glared down at him. “And who told you to make any promises or vows, huh?!”
Jabbing my finger into his chest, my anger flared. “This whole thing was stupid. You kidnapped that girl, letting her see your face, letting her control you! The Cezar I know wouldn’t have been swayed by any female. He would’ve slit her throat and dumped the body in a heartbeat!”
“Which would’ve still been another mess for us to clean up for your ass.” Cezar turned his burning gaze on Ion after his little comment.
“Shut it, Ion!” I barked. The last thing I needed was for him to start another fight with Cezar. He lifted his hands and shrugged shoulders, staring back at Cezar, challenging him.
Everything was unraveling at the seams, nothing going our way since we got here, and now I needed to call him to break the news that Margaret Jones was dead. Taking a deep breath, I let go of all my emotions and settled into my cold, impassive tone. “The woman’s fine.” Cezar swung my way, but I continued, “If she can't handle a few bruises, she’s not meant for this world. Now,” I tried to move on, “I have a job for you, a bloody one, so you should be able to blow off some steam and be productive. Can you do that?”
Like a dog with a bone, his eyes lit up. He was still my devoted executioner. Pulling out my phone, I texted him an address. “Go here. Make sure to hone in on the point that we’re displeased with his area management. No killing, but everything else is on the table. Drive in the point so he won’t disappoint us again.”
As the good soldier, Cezar pulled out his phone and smiled. He started to walk off before he turned around. His lips turned down, and his sparkling eyes felt flat and deadly. “Last warning, don’t hurt her. If I come back and see any red, black, or blue colors on her, I’ll make sure to make my next stab painful and marring.” He ran a finger down his face before winking at us. “Can’t kill my brothers, but I can do so much more. Toodles.” He was out the door in the blink of an eye, his threat hanging in the balance.
“What the fuck is up with that girl that has him so twisted?”
Looking down at my phone, I realized Father would be getting up around this time and expecting an update. “I don’t know, Ion.” Noticing his shirt was still off and we hadn’t fed our guest, an idea popped into my head. “Why don’t you go find out? See if you can get anything from her.”
He whipped his head around, his voice going up, “Me?! How am I going to break her?”
“No one told you to break her!” My voice came out harsher than I wanted. Waving his hand towards his shirtless chest, I explained, “Do what you do best: seduce her, make her think you are on her side. Play your games.”
My phone vibrated, and I flinched, knowing who it was and dreading the conversation I was about to have. He was not going to be happy. I stalked off to answer, “Figure out something, Ion. I can’t always be the only one with a brain.”
Opening the door to the room I was using, I shouted to his back, “Oh, and feed her. It looks like she will be a guest for a minute.” He raised his hands as I closed the door and answered, “Father.”
“What the fuck are you boys doing? I haven't heard a word, and it has been almost forty-eight hours!” I could hear him shuffling through his room, his butler behind him asking if he wanted a shower or a bath.
Biting the bullet, I told him the truth. “We ran into a snag-”
“What snag? What the fuck is so hard about grabbing a woman and keeping her?! You act like it's so fucking hard, and you even have extra hands to handle this!” Something crashed in the background, and I waited for it to start. “You fucking idiots! Imbeciles! What rotten luck I had in siring you three! I thought I was smart, making sure I had the right breeding stock for the three of you, but I guess I was wrong, and all three of your mothers were useless!”
Closing my eyes, I took a slow inhale before responding. “She died recently due to a brain aneurysm. It was sudden and unexpected.” Sticking to the facts was the best way to deal with my Father. Feeling emotions every time this man talked was a waste of time, so I kept myself in check, waiting for him to blow.
“Fuck!” He screamed. His heavy breathing was all I heard until he spat under his breath, “That bitch thinks she can escape me.” Another crash sounded in the background, and I rolled my eyes. Why did he always need to break valuable things when he was angry? Didn't he realize that he achieved nothing in the end?
His flat, bone-chilling voice came over the phone like a switch flipped. “I need to consult someone,” then he hung up.
The muscles in my arm unclenched, my right hand holding my phone to my ear dropped to my side, and I took a moment to think. He needed Margaret Jones for something, something important. She also slipped through my father's fingers when she left for the States, adding a personal layer to this mission.
I would be lying if I said I didn't think about telling him about the woman, Margret's daughter, but even the need to please him didn't trump the thought that I had a wild card in my pocket. One I didn't want to play until I had to.
With my wheels turning, I pulled out my laptop and researched Margaret Jones, but I didn't want to stop there. I also wanted to know who she was before she came to the States. I want to know who she was to my Father.
7
KAZIA
Itugged on the nylon rope for the twelfth time, hoping that by some small miracle, it would unravel and I wouldn't be stuck in this bed.
Collapsing onto the bed, I puffed out a humorless laugh. This was how people went crazy. Trying and trying and never getting an inch closer to release. I sank my fist into the goose-down pillow and took my frustration out until a knock came at the door.
