Page 14 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

And I could’ve easily asked the fucker for safe passage but what would be the fun in that? Besides, one thing our family hates is asking for permission. We much rather say we’re sorry than ask another man for permission. Bullshit.

I’d rather do neither really.

So, after the message from O’Sullivan, I got on my bike and left New York without a second thought and I’ve been here for a week without anyone noticing. Tonight, that changes. I spent the week turning this city upside down looking for the asshole that has managed to escape me more times than I care to admit and once again he got away from me when he decided to end his life before I got to him. The fucking cockroach.

In truth, I hate a lot of aspects about humanity but one that really gets my blood boiling is when grown men take the easy way out before answering for their crimes. He was smart, though. I will give him that. He suffered nothing compared to what I had planned for him.

I’d planned for tonight to be my last night in the city until the phone rang. I ended up here following a lead I had on the dead’s fucker partners, but what I least expected was finding her here.

Why is she here? I wonder while watching as she extends her hand towards a small boy.

A boy who I’ve been searching for since I first learned of his existence and haven’t stopped looking for since. From all the way here, I can tell that he’s small, lanky, and has a light complexion and jet-black hair. The image of them together reminds me of a time when I was the one hovering over an angry and lonely Kadra who was that small and looking at her now, pride swells in my chest.

Still staring at the two of them, I worked on trying to decipher this pressure I feel right in the center of my chest that appeared as soon as I laid eyes on the boy.

It’s not painful but it’s not fucking pleasant either.

And then it hits me like a wall of bricks, but I don’t have time to dwell on it because one second the kid is holding onto Kadra’s hand, and the next he’s on her bike as she speeds like a bat out of hell away from me.

I shouldn’t follow the woman, I know this. It’s not the right time yet that’s exactly what I do. I quickly hop on my bike and trail behind her not wanting to spook her because that’s one thing about my little dark angel… she spooks easily when it comes to me.

To us.

Even with the rain the crazy woman drives like she’s mad.

A sinking feeling takes over my stomach and the feel of needles pricking my skin makes me look over my shoulder only to find two black vans driving suspiciously close to us.

The question is are they following me or her?

A moment later I get my answer when shots are fired directly at me.

Fuck.

Then I find myself dodging bullets and trying to get them away from Kadra and the kid but I fail when a bullet pierces my skin. I fall off the bike and everything goes black but even then, I see a whole lot of red and gold.

Mostly gold.

Her whiskey eyes.

Chapter 4

KADRA

THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

“Everything I loved, became everything that killed me.” – K

My mother, Renata, used to say on the off times she was sober that we would never face a tougher war like the one love is.

Love and war. I used to wonder how the two could co-exist. If you love something you would do anything to never let the chaos that war brings touch it, but then I realized that the two have more in common than one would think. Because love and war? It hurts the same. It makes you feel a thousand emotions until the end. Until you realize your mistake.

Because love?

Love fucks you up and bleeds you dry just as much as selfish wars do. My mother, Renata, knew that oh too well and she battled with the ashes of a love that started the war that left her broken. Left her as a shell of what she was once. I also know better than anyone how the useless feeling hurts those stupid enough to let it consume them. I was once that naive and reckless with my heart. Until I learned a harsh lesson and buried what was left of it so no one could ever get a hold of it.

Pieces of it, broken pieces that is, I left in Washington and Philadelphia. Safe and away from the chaos that follows me. Away from the hell that’s been slowly killing me and burning me from the inside out.

I always knew exactly who I was even when I was down on the floor with a broken heart and blood covering every inch of my body even then I knew dreams would never come true for me. It just wasn’t in the cards for me. That much life taught me at a young age. But the most heartbreaking thing is that I once used to dream like my sisters did. No. That’s a lie. I didn’t have dreams like my sisters did but I once allowed myself to wish for something I knew would never happen. I wish that one day I could wake up and not feel so angry and so sad. I wish I could one day travel somewhere far away where no one knows me and get lost. Get lost until I could forget the scars on my skin. The scars in my heart. It was only wishful thinking of a lonely kid. I wished but I always knew those wishes would never come true. After years spent in hell where I wished for peace daily, that dream had died a slow painful death. But my sisters still had hope in their hearts, even Arianna. I was already tainted, a mess of broken dreams but they still held on to the idea of better days so I did what I had to do to get them there. Even if it meant losing them. Even if it meant I had to kill the only decent remaining part of my being.

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