My eldest brother, Aster is already walking down the long corridor towards me, his two personal guards behind him, and the moment he looks up from his phone and spots me, he stops.
Aster’s always been the most frightening of the Taiga siblings, but never from obvious things like his tall build or the tattoos of roses and tigers along the sleeves of his arms. People aren’t afraid of his handsome features, his slender nose, long face or high cheekbones, or even the way he styles his blue-black hair, one side slicked back with an unfathomable amount of gel while the other curls on the side of his face.
They’re afraid of his eyes. Eyes that are so depthless, you become convinced that hiding is useless. You’re afraid of the complete indifference in his gaze, that diminishes you to the size of an insignificant flower in his presence, or the powerful weight of his words in the air, or his soundless footsteps when he walks into the room.
Me? I’m terrified of Aster’s energy. He could torture someone for hours in the most gruesome ways, kill off a man’s entire family or raze a church to the ground, with its followers still inside… and his energy would be the same as when he told me bedtime stories when we were young or poured tea forAbuelita…I’ve never seen the hues of rage or sadness or even ire in Aster. Not when his pet snake died, not when Baal got into an accident, not when dad beat the shit out of him for getting lost in the park—
There has never been even a flicker in the iridescent white colour of his energy.
Twenty-eight years, and I still have yet to decide if it’s the colour for peace or indifference.
Whichever it is, it convinced me a long time ago that Aster is the stuff real monsters are made of.
“You’re back.” His voice is a deep timbre in the air as he puts his phone inhis front pocket. It’s rare to catch him in comfortable clothes during the day, so to see him now in black sweatpants and a grey hooded sweater, I can think of a few people who’d pay good money just for a photo.
“And you’re the only one who’s come to greet me?” I put my hand to my chest in a show of hurt, “After everything I went through.”
“You mean everything you put yourself through?” Aster’s brow raises as he puts his hands in his pockets, “Remember, the plane was also an option.”
My nose wrinkles, “Planes are boring.”
“I can imagine.” He nods his head in the direction of the nearest kitchen, “Just a few more things before you disappear.”
“Can’t it wait ‘til I’ve washed off the blood of our enemies?”
“No.”
“… If I get blood in the kitchen,Abuelita’sgoing to chase me around with her cane again.”
Aster turns away with the barest smile touching a corner of his lips, but still there isn’t even a ripple of amusement in his energy when he responds, “Then don’t get blood in the kitchen.”
Lucifer incarnate. I mutter under my breath before leaving my shoes at the door and following after him, past two sitting rooms and the ground floor gym, into a kitchen painted in shades of black and grey, with a long bar counter.
I’m hesitating to sit at the bar, already imaginingAbuelitain my ears, when Aster pulls out his phone and puts a call on speaker, then walks around the counter to grab two glasses from the top cupboard.
“Didn’t I just get off the phone with you?” Dahlia’s annoyed voice comes through the speaker.
“I’m home,prima,”I grin as I call out to her. “Aster wanted me to hear your voice.”
Dahlia snorts, “I hope he puts you in the ring for all the work you put me through.”
The thought of being in the ring with Aster is enough to make me wince.
“I was planning my shower when I got your stupid call,” Dahlia continues. “You’re lucky I was able to get my men up there soon to control the witnesses.”
Since the shootout happened on her territory, I’d called Dahlia immediately after to let her know what went down. Calling Aster came after that.
“The Romano family’s been itching for a taste of us for months,” I remind her. “I offered myself up and they took the bait without hesitation, but the feds aren’t going to find a trace of our family at the scene. That is, if we can get our people to control the witness testimonies.”
Aster pushes a glass of newly poured whiskey towards me, and I pick it up to swirl the liquid around for a moment, “We control them, then the Romano’s are going to have their hands full for a while explaining this mess. They’ll be keeping out of our business.”
“That was your thought process?” Aster’s brow raises again.
“I call bullshit,” Dahlia quips. “He can’t come up with that plan himself, someone probably fed it to him. I bet Tobias.”
“Now you’re just insulting me,” my eyes narrow.
“If you had those kinds of brains, Uncle Taiga would be using you a lot more, no?” The sound of water breaks through the phone from the end of Dahlia’s line, making my brows tighten.
