Page 22 of KAI Tortured

“This has nothing to do with Natasha.”

“I know. This time it’s Maisy. Kai, do something. Amend the mistakes you made. Don’t just roll over and die.”

I study Zeena. She seems to know a lot about me, but then again, every Delgado does. I’m just the asshole who’s emotional, crazy, and never owns up to the shit he gets up to. I’m sick of that Kai.

Sighing, I look around me. She’s right. I might as well curl up and die. This place has become my own personal pigsty. It reeks, too.

But going back would mean facing Orion and Logan, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

“Orion and Logan need you,” she says, like she was reading my mind. “Some of the Delgados will only listen to you. It’s been too long. They sent me as their last resort. The next thing will be them coming here.”

“Fuck.” I rub my eyes, stupidly hoping sobriety will kick in. “Give me an hour. Let me shower, shave. Sober up a little. You don’t need to wait for me.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah, Zeena. Thanks. I’ll be there by evening.”

“Great,” she says, but I sense I’m still not off the hook. “I’ll be outside. Just in case you change your mind.”

CHAPTER 7

ORION

Logan’s penthouse overlooks a big chunk of Manhattan, and I find looking at the view calming. In the last few months, this is how I’ve spent my time. Staring.

Uncle Jon occupies the few sets of rooms down the west side; that’s his and Logan’s offices, and in a way, the Vitali headquarters. He doesn’t come here often and anyway, there’s enough space in this damn penthouse for us to never have to run into each other.

Tonight, we’re waiting for Kai, and yet again I’m staring out at the city below me. We don’t know when he’ll show up. We just know that he will.

This day could go either way. Kai’s a wild card, especially because we haven’t seen him in all this time. I doubt he knows about Logan calling a hit on Maisy, too. He could say or do anything. At the same time, there’s so much to talk about, so much to discuss. He still doesn’t know we’re half-brothers. Fuck. That changes everything.

The day we got shot and were left for dead, Kai was the one who saved us. If he hadn’t come, we’d have died for sure. It’s ironic; he probably came to kill us for taking Maisy, and instead, he saved our lives. Fate. Huh.

Maisy. A thunder rumbles in my heart each time her name pops up in my head.

That cunt, Lukash, shot us both in the stomach, hoping we’d bleed out. Unlucky for him, we survived, and got our revenge. Uncle Jon got him, cut his balls off, tortured his wife in front of him, then killed her. Apparently the whole ordeal lasted three days. The Cartes decided to contribute to his death, so they cut his fingers off, one by one, then his hands from his wrists, and at the end, his feet. Needless to say, he died in pain. Bled to death.

Our recovery in the hospital has been nothing short of miraculous, a testament to the doctors’ resilience and determination. But also, their fear of failing us.

My torso is still wrapped in a bandage, the dressing tight over my wounds. Logan’s, too. I glance over at him; I smile a little as I realize that we’ve been wearing black sweatpants and black t-shirts all this time. Two whole months of not wearing a suit. It’s gotta be some kind of record.

The interphone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and Logan and I make eye contact. He shoots to his feet and strides over to the elevator where the security camera is. I follow close behind.

“It’s Kai,” he states, and pushes the button to talk into the intercom. “I just opened the elevator doors for you. Press for the top floor when you enter.”

Then, he turns to the elevator doors and waits anxiously.

When we nearly died last time, Kai was the one who found us then, too, and who reunited us. Why couldn’t he do the same this time? Does he feel guilty that he took Maisy from us? Doesn’t he know that had he not shown up, we’d be dead? Or is he still mad at us for wanting to kill her?

The elevator pings, and the doors open to reveal a slouched Kai. Despite his huge torso wrapped in the usual black leather jacket, it doesn’t feel as if he’s that same guy who’d kill you in a moment with his bare hands. Or that he even wants to be. He’s looking at the floor, like he’s trying to make himself small. Goddamnit. I see it immediately; he’s back in that self-loathing stage he was in just before we met Maisy. The regret and self-reproach in his eyes are painful to see.

Guilt is killing him, like a live, palpable entity, but Logan and I will ignore it. We know Kai. That’s all there is to it.

Without waiting for him to exit, I’m inside the elevator in a few strides and embracing him. No words. No awkwardness. Just a strong hug for my friend, my brother. Logan is instantly next to me, embracing him too.

At first, Kai freezes. Then, slowly, he lifts his arms and secures his grip on me and Logan. Little does he know that so much has changed since the last time we saw him.

We’ve been recuperating without Kai by our side for too long, making up excuses as to why he wasn’t with us. But I should have guessed. He wasn’t mad, just ensnared by a web of guilt and a self-imposed exile. Adrift, trapped in memories that both haunt and sustain him.

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