Page 24 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Chapter 7

KADRA

BLACK HEART

“Not God’s chosen.” – Aza

“I’m surprised she’s letting you pet her.” Walking into the dining room I watch the boy, Azariel sitting quietly at the dining table with several plates of half-eaten food in front of him and a traitorous Greta lying on his lap as if today was not the first time they’d met.

As soon as we arrived I instructed Crow to feed the kid whatever he wanted and from what I can tell Crow ordered him every type of junk food there was. From spicy wings to three flavors of milkshakes. Nothing nutritious at all. I’ll allow it tonight because I didn’t prepare to bring him here so soon but plans changed and now he’s here. Tomorrow, once Vernon, my full-time chef and part-time assassin, comes back from his weekend off, I’ll instruct him to make only nutritious meals for the kid. He needs all the energy he can get and that won’t be happening if he only eats sugar and greasy foods.

“She seems nice,” Azariel shrugs while petting my cat gently. It’s strange how a boy who was never shown any kindness still has it in him to be soft. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me since my little sister has a soft nature and a kind heart and was hurt just like this kid was.

“Greta?” I scoff while walking closer to him. I noticed how every time me or my men get close he becomes rigid. I understand that too well. It’s your body’s way of protecting itself when you sense danger or in his case, maybe it is a reflex. His posture tells me he’s clearly been hurt before and he’s preparing himself in case I hurt him. That won’t ever happen but instead of telling him that, I’d rather show him. Besides, to people like us words are meaningless. “Nice is not a word I would use to describe her.”

“She’s pretty.” He whispers so tenderly it catches me off guard.

“Pretty isn’t one either,” I almost break a smile when Greta lifts her head and narrows her eyes at me as if she understands I just insulted her. Okay, she’s not the prettiest cat out there but what she lacks in beauty she has in personality.

I never cared for pets or anything else that might require me to take care of them without blood ties. I didn’t see the appeal of caring for an animal to then have them die on you but then Crow came home with the black Sphynx with clear blue eyes and she latched herself to me. I didn’t do a single thing that warranted her affections yet she started following me around for weeks until Crow gave up and left her here.

Now the hairless little demon is mine. My companion and sometimes my pain in the ass.

“You’re pretty, too,” Azariel whispers so softly as he looks my way now with those beautiful gray eyes that remind me so much of the Russian currently recuperating under my roof. I didn’t think this kid would be dangerous. I was wrong. So very wrong. He has managed to penetrate the iron-clad walls I’ve built to protect what little goodness there’s still in me and with just one look and sweet words he has disarmed me without realizing it. He did it back in the alley when he looked up at me with angry eyes that pierced my soul. He’s doing it now, too.

Clearing my throat, I try to breathe through the pain in my chest. Raising my gloved hand to my chest I tap it three times but the pain remains. Mila used to tell us that whenever we felt pain in our hearts we should tap our chest to make it go away but, in my case, it never did. It only grows more intense. This pain though is much more different than the pain I felt when I was younger and I was hurt by others. This pain–the one this kid just caused– feels like electricity rushing to my heart as if it’s trying to resuscitate it. But that can’t happen. So, I ignore the strange ache and don’t give it a second thought. Maybe if I ignore it it’ll go away. Looking away from him, I focus only on the spoon and fork next to his plate. The knives are missing. Anger. Sadness. It all blurs together when I realize the kid hid the knives just in case he needs them later to protect himself. I also can’t help but feel proud. He’s a fighter and deep in my tattered soul I know he was meant to be here. He’s the one.

After a long silence, I speak. “No one will hurt you here or anywhere.” I make sure to look him in the eyes so he knows I mean it. I mean every word. “Never again.” I promise. I don’t make a habit of making promises but for this kid I do. He needs to know that no one will ever hurt him again, not unless they want to lose their lives. One day he’ll be able to go against any man and win but until that day comes I’ll be here.

“You can’t promise that.” He says then bows his head and the anger grows deep in my belly and all I see is red. I’m not angry at him. My anger is directed at the world. At God for failing Azariel. Failing many like him. Like me. “Lift your head, Azariel. Hold it high and proud even when you don’t feel brave or confident. You raise your head and show them you’re not afraid. Show them they can’t break you.” My voice comes out hoarse and softer than I intended.

Slowly he raises his small head and gives me his eyes. I try hard not to get lost in his stare because, like someone I thought I knew, he has the type of eyes that can penetrate your soul. “I can promise it and I just did. I don’t break promises kid, you might as well start believing in that.” I reach behind me, pull my favorite knife from my back pocket and I put it down on the table where he can easily reach it. “If you ever find yourself in danger here. Use it. But I’m telling you now that you won’t need it because no one here will dare touch you. They’re all like you.” I say the last part feeling proud. My men are like Azariel. They once were lost. They were also the prey in someone else’s twisted game but not anymore. They’re the predators and there’s not a single man or woman in this city that they couldn’t bring down to their knees if that’s what they wanted. In time Azariel will be like them.

He’ll get there. Of that, I have no doubt.

“What is your name?” he asks, looking at my gloves while still petting Greta. In most cases, I don’t give my name. They can all call me boss or Parisi but for Azariel I’m breaking every rule.

“Kadra.” I croak out feeling exposed. “You can call me Kadra.”

“Will you teach me how to fight, Kadra?” Right then he looks younger than he’s seven years of age.

“Azariel…” Every time I say his name, a strange and warm feeling courses through me.

“Yes?” He looks at me and just like the last time everything around us stopped. How does he do that? It takes me back to a time I don’t want to remember. A time when someone else stopped the world for me before it blew into flames.

“I will teach you everything. All you need to survive in this world. In my world.”

He nods and then looks at the door that leads to the left wing of the house. Where I enter from after leaving Solonik to Croix. “Who is that man?”

Knowing exactly who he is asking about, I shrug. “An annoying ghost from the past.”

“Sounds like you hate him,” Greta growls and it only makes Azariel smile. He’s not afraid of her. Good. She found a new ally in Azariel.

“Hate is too great of a feeling to waste on him,” I say darkly.

He frowns.

“You don’t sound so convinced.”

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