Cezar roared out like never before and I opened my eyes. Arak turning around, “What the fuck is wrong-,”
Nicu yelled, “Go!”
Arak was on top of me one second, and the next, Cezar had him on the ground. Once Nicu joined, he held his father down as Cezar began to claw at his father's eyes. He wasn't just using his fingers to pop them out; he was squeezing them in the socket. Arak’s screams didn’t cover the wet, gushy sound of them being crushed, a sound I was never going to forget.
Ion stripped off his shirt, draping it over me before pressing a kiss to my head and turning my face away from the gruesome sight. He started tinkering at my shackles with a twisted paper clip until they popped open, and he scooped me into his arm.
“Aaahhhh,” I cried out; the knife Arak stuck in my leg was still embedded. With one swift yank, he tore the sheet into a strip, then pulled the knife out, wrapped the sheet tight around my thigh to stanch the bleeding. He kept cursing in Armenian, and I couldn't help but think it was cute since I didn't know what he said.
Once Ion was done, he set me in his lap, buttoned up his shirt around my naked body, and hugged me, whispering along my back how sorry he was. That my screams will haunt him until the day he dies.
Peeking around Ion’s shoulder, I watched as Nicu and Cezar spoke to Arak in Armenian, getting all of their anger and resentment out. It was exhilarating to watch Arak’s screams of pain turn into whimpers and pleas. Did he think that would work? Did he think he raised men who would see his weakness and extend mercy? No. Even after all I just went through, I wanted him to feel pain, to feel broken. I spat on him as his pleas began to twist the guys’ faces, all of them just getting more and more infuriated until each of them doled out their punishment on him individually. All of them leaving their own marks on his body. Hearing the screams they could make come from his mouth for once.
It was in this situation, watching them brutally torture their own father, that I realized I was very fucked up. Even with me in excruciating pain, needing to go to a hospital, I wanted to stay, wanted to watch, wanted to feel the vibrations of Arak’s screams against my body and relish in them. I wanted to live in that world where these men got their vengeance paid in full.
After they were done and Arak was left twitching on the cold stone slab of the concrete floor; Nicu told Cezar he needed to stop, to take care of himself before causing even more damage to himself. Cezar glanced up at me, his eyes losing that predator focus, the killing edge that made him look like death was coming for you, and he moved around his father’s prone body. Those jewel green eyes sparkled with life as he kept his eyes on me until he sat down next to me, bowing his head, begging me for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry I was so late to come to save you from this, from him. I really, truly am. If you need your pound of flesh, please take mine. It's yours anyways.”
Everything inside of me lit up; the pain and suffering melted away as Ion gripped me tight, and Cezar pledged his body to me. How could I ever leave these men?
Reaching for Cezar’s arm, he flinched away. Pain much worse than anything physical filled my soul. Before I got to ask, he hurried, “I hurt myself. It's no big-”
Noticed that he was trying to lean towards me with one side; hiding the other, I tugged on his arm. He reluctantly let me pull his hand into mine and I gasped. One of his hands, the one that was shackled, was swollen with a big red bruise on his thumb. Upon looking at his hand further, the thought crossed my mind.
Did he… did he break his thumb to get out of the shackles?
“Cezar!” My mouth dropped as my heart sank, looking at the swollen, bruised thumb. I wanted to kiss it, to thank him, to tell him that he didn't need to go to that extreme, but it made my heart flutter that he did.
His wide smile shined bright. “I told you I was going to protect you.” He nuzzled into my neck, kissing me softly. “I don't care if I have to break every bone in this body to get to you. I’ll find a way to you. Every. Damn. Time.”
“We need to finish this up,” Nicu said, standing over his father's wheezing form on the ground. Pointing to his chest, he looked at Cezar. “We also need the heart.”
Cezar shot up, practically vibrating with excitement as he grabbed the knife in his not broken hand and started sawing into his father’s chest. It didn't take long for Cezar to cut him open, even with his left hand, laughing as he told his father he would tell him a story to get through it. It was the story about a young boy, the ones he loved, and a shipping container.
Leaning up against Ion, Nicu came around and grabbed my hand, holding it as we all witnessed Cezar carve up his dad’s chest like a Thanksgiving turkey. Watching all of Arak’s sins coming to face him head-on, seeing all his dreams of power and prestige going down in flames as life drained from his eyes. It was the best outcome for all of us.
EPILOGUE - KAZIA
“Are you sure about this?” I asked again as I sat in front of the vanity, putting the finishing touches on my makeup.
Nicu stalked up behind me, his hand settling on the bare skin of my shoulders, and I shivered in response. It’s only been a few days since they killed their father, and yet all of us seem to breathe easier, calmer. Like we were all finally free.
He bent down, kissing my cheek as he sighed, “Yes, Kazia. We all decided this together, and it's the best move.”
“I just…,” I didn't want him to resent me later, but I couldn't get the words out. The look in his eyes reflecting on me through the mirror told me he already knew what I was going to say.
His lips moved from my cheek, down my neck, and over my shoulder. Spending the most time on that spot where I took a bullet for him. The hot, wet trail had me biting my lip to keep a moan from spilling out because if I did that, we wouldn't leave the room, and I didn’t want to keep our guests waiting. This was the first time I’d been able to wear such an expensive formal dress, and I really didn't want to mess it up.
“We’re all sure of our decision.” He paused, his fingers digging into my arm as he stared at me. “Are you sure about yours?”
I wanted to twirl around and say yes, but the hesitation in his voice made me pause. He needed to know I was taking his question seriously. It was only two days ago that I told them I didn't want to go back to LA and that I wanted to stay here with them. I bet as much reservations as I had about their decision, he also had about mine. Afraid that after everything, we might change our minds later, but when you experience what we went through together, it makes an everlasting bond, and that's what I felt for the Azadian Brothers. They were mine, and I was theirs. That's it.
Standing up, my floor-length off-the-shoulder dress with a slit down the thigh felt like silk, curving around my body like a glove. The little puckered wound in my shoulder was on display, a badge of honor, a reminder that I survived. The golden shimmering dress sparkled under the light, reflecting off the mirror, giving my room a type of magical glow.
Turning around, I tugged at his collar, a sign that I wanted a kiss, and he lowered his body towards mine. These kisses weren’t the fast, desperate ones that made my blood boil. No, these were slow and lazy, speaking silent words of having all the time in the world to explore our bodies and how they intertwine. I was starting to become addicted to these kisses.
“The guests are here,” Ion called from the doorway.
