Page 53 of Brutal Empire

After the fight I had with Katia’s father, I knew I needed to find answers on my own. Even my own family told me to drop it. Some fiancé I turned out to be. I didn’t even know Katia had been adopted.

It was a very well-guarded secret until recently, when I found that her documentation had all been forged.

Now here I was, standing in the middle of a bunch of warehouses, ready for another party. Soon, my father would get sick of me using money to get the answers I needed, but for now, I was using everything I had, but funnily enough, my last name wasn’t enough to fall back on.

Feeling despair was something new to me. I began to understand why people lied, cheated, and killed when they were backed against a corner.

Surprisingly, I was good at adapting—the trick was not to overthink all the shit I was doing. Maybe it was a bunch of sanctimonious bullshit I fed myself so I could feel better, but hey, whatever kept us going, right?

Sometimes we needed to hold on to the smallest crumb of hope because it was all we had to hold on to. That didn’t make us weak or stupid; it just made us human.

As I walked inside the warehouse, I pulled out a cigarette. I was never much of a smoker, but the deeper I went into this world, the more I found myself reaching for them regularly; it gave me something to do. Something else to shift my focus on.

Whoever was the mastermind behind these places liked to plan them similarly. So many twists and turns, so if a raid ever happened, it wouldn’t be a quick bust, and they would have a chance to get their merchandise out.

A crumpled piece of paper from a few days ago was on the floor. It wasn’t a headline page, not like the one that featured Katia on the front page when they couldn’t find her. This was just a tiny section of a picture of a young girl in a cheer uniform smiling at the camera.

Missing girl disappeared overnight.

Reading that made me sick. I questioned every tragedy now, not knowing what to believe anymore. Everything in this world was a façade to keep us complacent.

I looked at the picture of the girl once more and lied to myself that she would be one of the lucky ones. Not everyone would end up at hell’s doorstep sucking the devil’s dick.

“You’re late!” The guy in charge of me seethed. I’d learned not to talk back. “You’ll be on guard duty tonight.”

Without another word, I took my place, hoping this time I found the answers I needed.

TWENTY-THREE

How easy itis to wear many faces. To be able to change into the one that is most convenient all so you keep hiding from yourself. That was me, and this morning, I got ready for war, which was funny because the biggest war I’d ever faced had been with my own demons. If I hid from them, I didn’t have to face any truths. I could keep wearing other faces so I wouldn’t have to look upon my own.

Bastian had been unusually quiet this morning. I felt relieved that he had not brought up yesterday’s events, but there was also a slight discomfort. There was one more thing I was running away from, but I didn’t know if giving in to my desires was a good idea.

Unlike me, who had dressed for war, Bastian did not, unless he was fighting a different one. He had an outfit much like the one yesterday. Clean, crisp suit, and his hair was perfectly styled, even though we were leaving early at the crack of dawn. It was like he was trying to make a statement.

I had my duffel strapped over one shoulder; Bas was bringing two with him.

“You’re going to attract attention,” I bit out as the car stopped a few feet away from the plane.

There was a slight smirk on his arrogant face.

“This is who I am. This is who I’ve always been.” He then turned to me before opening the door. “You only know the parts I allowed you to see.”

I knew the distance was what I wanted, but now that I had it, I didn’t know what to do about it. How cliché to want the things we could not have.

The plane was gorgeous, all black with a bigKon the wing in gold. It was far nicer than the one the Mexican drug lord had. An air steward was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. She completely ignored me and only had eyes for Bastian.

“Mr. Kingsley,” she greeted him in a soft-pitched tone that instantly grated my nerves.

Bastian not only smiled at her, but he also gave her a wink. My throat constricted at the irrational anger I was feeling. I made my way up faster than necessary, telling myself I didn’t care for the conversation they were having. I picked a seat near the middle facing away from the door. Minutes passed, and the pilots made an announcement, and I had yet to hear Bastian come down the aisle. I listened to the door closing, so I knew he had to have boarded.

I was alone as the plane began to gain speed. My fingers dug into the armrests as the plane ascended into the air. There was no noise coming from anywhere other than the ones from the engine, and I felt so utterly alone at that moment.

A sadness washed through me. Tears welled in my eyes, and my chest felt tight. I closed my eyes and let myself feel all the emotions I had suppressed in the last few months.

Inhale.

Exhale.

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