Both of us lead our families with a brutal but fair fist. What we don’t tolerate is greed, and we punish betrayal. Our cleansing has become infamous.
“Are you getting soft?” I goad him.
“Fuck you. Between the hotheads in my family and the motherfuckers in yours, we can call ourselves lucky nothing has happened.”
“They respect us too much.”
“People always try to find loopholes, Mika.” What he doesn’t say rattles between us like a venomous snake, ready to strike.
“That’s why we must always present a united front.”
I nod and pull him into a side hug, slapping his back. “I would die for you.”
“Without blinking,” he finishes.
The blood oath we took pulses between us. But it is not as powerful as her call, and the vow I want to make to Dahlia.
“I’m heading to the club,” I say after I sign on the dotted lines.
There is no question of trust between us. Both of us would sign on a blank page if the other requested it.
He nods and resumes signing. We each lead our own company, but they’re under a larger holding company we co-lead. In the same spirit as BRACON.
Making sure the other side of the business runs efficiently, I step inside the club.
The preparations for tonight are in full swing. The party life knows no end. It stopped entertaining me a long time ago. I experienced firsthand the depravity of humans, so I wanted to create a playground. It serves my bank account well.
Sex parties are going on; drugs are being freely consumed. Fight cages. Each private section caters to a certain clientele. The anonymity is just for show. If you’re on my list, someone who might help me get farther, I’ll use and blackmail you without a second thought.
In my youth, I tried it all. Just thinking my son will do the same shit makes me want to bash my head against the wall. There’s no point in not having any. Dahlia will want children eventually, and I will give her as many as she wants. I’ll deal with the little shitheads later. And fuck if the thought of pumping her full of my cum until she swells with my child doesn’t make me harder than usual.
Glancing at the clock, I urge it to pass faster as I do a round with my men. Everything goes smoothly, as always, but that doesn’t mean they don’t ask my approval for every little thing, taking forever.
Hours later, I am back home, hurrying to get there before her concert starts.
The only reason I will miss her playing is if I am dead. I’ve scheduled everything in my life so I can be there for her every Saturday evening to watch her play.
I pushed through when it felt like every press of the key dug the knife deeper into my heart.
I was right there with her as she snatched my hand and brought me straight to hell and back with every new composition.
For four years. No break.
I would have endured a hundred years longer, because that has always been my role, to support her and be by her side, through the good and the bad times.
Now, I am taking on a different role, and this one has been the best yet. Her man.
As she improvised the last time, a surge of excitement rushes through me to hear what she comes up with next.
To me, it feels like she healed, breaking free of her past. From taking tentative steps, she now soars, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.
The past traps you. The future enslaves you. You either live in the present or cease to live at all.
I will be there for her for the rest of our lives with outstretched arms, ready to catch her, carry her. Ready to make sure she always has a safe place to call home.
The moment I see her, the world ceases to exist.
My focal point becomes her. In my peripheral vision, I catch the staff finishing up the last preparations for tonight, but Imarch straight to her and back her into the back, the curtain folding around us, hiding us.
