Page 39 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Soon after I speak up, interrupting their conversation, both Vitali and Azariel look my way with a look of wonder written on their faces.

Frowning, I ask. “What is it?”

Azariel looks at me curiously and points at my face while the Russian smiles as if he just won the lottery, or in his case, as I imagine he smiles after he claims a life. “You’re smiling.” Vitali points out.

You’re smiling.

That’s when I realized my mistake. I slipped up. I quickly changed my expression. Empty. Bored, even. A facade. “Azariel, come.” I motion for him to follow me.

I watch as he shoves the knife inside his pocket and slowly moves my way, leaving Vitali behind. “Where are we going?” He asks while I’m urging him out the door but before I close it behind us, my eyes lock on Vitali. “To raise hell.”

I don’t think about how his gray eyes lit up with a fire I only see when he’s looking my way. Instead, I exit the room and walk away but I don’t close the door.

No. I leave it open just in case he follows and like always… he does.

* * *

“Will they hurt?” Azariel speaks up for the first time since leaving the mansion and arriving here. When I think the boy can’t surprise me more than he already has, he opens his mouth and asks me that. That’s the first thing he asks after arriving at one of the Parisi hotels here in the city and watching my men walk inside the building with plastic jugs in their hands filled with gasoline.

The boy is smart for his age. More than kids his age. I don’t doubt it for a minute. He knows that nothing good happens this late at night. “The guests have all been evacuated.” We watch as my men walk inside the hotel with the gasoline-filled jugs following orders.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispers while his eyes are trained in front of him watching as my team works.

I take a deep breath and look at the grand building that is one of my father’s greatest accomplishments alongside the chain of hotels around the world with his name on them and the place where so many met the devil and experienced many horrors. Kids Azariel’s age and some even younger. The anger from earlier comes back. “Remember what I told you about making the people who hurt us bleed?”

“Yes.” He mumbles quietly pulling at my dusty heartstrings I didn’t realize still worked until recently.

“Well, this is the beginning.” I spread my arms out, making a point. “It’s no fun just killing them, Azariel.” I look down at him, taking in his lovely face. This is for you. I want to turn your nightmares into ashes. I want to say but I don’t. “You have to take everything that means something and destroy it for them to witness it. That’s what hurts them most.”

His gray eyes lock onto mine and I try my best to fight the million feelings he stirs in me. This kid. “You’re a superhero.” The little boy whispers, looking almost shyly.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I look away from him trying to control myself when I have a million thoughts running through my mind. I take a second to compose myself before speaking again. “I think villain fits me better, no?” I try to make a joke but I’m terrible at it. The kid doesn’t think I’m funny either. Good. I don’t have to pretend I’m someone I’m not, with him.

“No.” Azariel sighs heavily, seeming lost in his head. Oh, how I wish I could be inside his head and wipe every single memory that hurts you. “Not a villain.”

A warmth I don’t feel often takes over my body reminding me that I’m not dead inside like I try to convince myself. This kid with his subtle but curious stares, soft voice, and beautiful eyes has brought back to life parts of me I thought dead and he keeps doing it and I’m afraid. So afraid of what this means. I will give him everything but I can’t give him what a kid like him needs most… my heart.

To neither of them but it seems as if I have no control over that, do I? As much as I try to convince myself that I do.

“I’m not so sure about him.” Azariel’s voice breaks through the depressing and confusing haze inside my head making me look at the direction he is looking. The Russian. The Russian is walking towards the entrance of the Parisi Hotel with a jug of gasoline in one hand. I was so deep in my head that I didn’t notice when he left his spot behind us and moved toward the entrance. Azariel and I watch quietly as Vitali empties the jug on the entrance’s staircase.

I can tell from all the way here that he’s in pain or at least in discomfort with the way he’s breathing harshly and leaning on one side. The man was gunned down and he’s going about as if he doesn’t have various gun wounds stitched up that can at any moment open if he makes a wrong movement.

“Oh, he’s definitely a villain,” I whispered to Azariel while staring at Vitali. He has on black jeans and a matching tank with his usual combat boots. He looks wilder. A total contrast to when he’s wearing his black suit.

“He’s bad?” Azariel asks, seeming worried but trying his best to conceal it.

My eyes soften when I watch him looking at the Russian. “Villains are not always monsters, Azariel. Life will teach you that soon enough. Some villains have big hearts.” I tell him and I mean every word. Villains do have hearts. I know it because I felt hard for that villain’s black and beautiful heart.

“Boss,” Crow shouts, catching our attention and making me look away from Vitali. I raise an eyebrow in question. “Do the honors and light this fucker up.” He booms.

“Stay here,” I whispered to Azariel. “This won’t take long.” He nods and stays out while I strut in five-inch heels towards chaos. With every step I take, I feel a pull that’s been present for years but I do my best to put it out of my mind knowing it’s useless to allow it to bloom. Because nothing can bloom in hate but it seems as if my stupid bruised heart doesn’t understand that.

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