Page 7 of Defy

I’m tired of people telling me to relax.

I stop walking and grab my mother’s arm, causing her to send an icy glare where my hand is wrapped around her thin forearm. The movement causes my body to scream out in pain but the adrenaline coursing through my system makes it bearable. “What are you going to do with her? She hasn’t ever even met you. How can she be a pawn in your fucked up game?”

My mother sneers, pulling her forearm free from my grip. “Don’t tell me you care for this one, too?” She eyes me carefully, her words not making any sense.

“I care about you ruining the lives of innocent girls.”

“Her bloodline makes her guilty, Dominic.” That’s all she says before she continues down the hallway and knocks once on a solid wooden door before abruptly departing. Her words staying with me long after the sound of her heels on the stone floor fades.

Then you don’t know who she is at all.Her bloodline makes her guilty.

I’m lost in thought when the doctor opens the door. He doesn’t ask questions about how this happened - he’s paid well not to.

“Take a seat on the stool there and pull your sleeve up,” he instructs before taking alcohol to the wound causing my stomach to contract which sends dizzying pain through me because of my rib. The stitches he puts in my arm hurt worse than the actual injury. Probably because I have no adrenaline left to dull the pain by now. Thankfully, the doc has some hefty narcotics as well as an ice pack for my face.

“Take a long shower. Don’t scrub your sutures and put your arm in this sling. You were very lucky. Half an inch to the left and that bullet would have ripped your humerus in two. As it is, it just grazed the muscle. The x-ray also showed that somehow, despite the discoloration already setting in, your rib isn’t broken, just badly bruised. I don’t know what you did to piss the Hielos off, son, but I wouldn’t recommend doing it again.”

“Noted. Thanks for your help.”

He does some quick tests to make sure I can wiggle my fingers and move my wrist. “Checking for nerve damage,” he says before he hands me three bottles of little white pills - two for pain, one for sleeping - and sends me on my way. Now it’s time to check on Libby and make sure Luis is keeping his hands off of her. No one told me I couldn’t go up there. In fact, no one has really given me any directives and I plan to take full advantage of that.

As I slowly make my way back up to the third floor, I hear a high-pitched, nasally squeal.

“Dom? Is that really you? Luis said you were back but I thought he was just being an asshole like usual.”

Irina.

God, why can’t this day be over already? It’s shocking how much of my past is becoming my present. Like they’ve all been trapped in time, aging but never moving on. I grimace knowing the one face I’d give anything to see isn’t going to appear.

When I turn, I’m shocked at the face I see. Thank God I recognized her voice because I wouldnothave recognized her face.

When I was younger, Irina was always hanging around. Our parents do business together so it’s less of a surprise that she’s still milling about in my family’s hallways. Whenshewas younger, she had beautiful blonde hair - which doesn’t occur naturally on a lot of Venezuelans, and she hardly ever wore makeup. No need to, she had an inescapable beauty. Although we never hooked up, I’ve always had a soft spot for Irina. We share an understanding because of the families we were born into and I always looked after her like a brother. At some point, I’m sure our mothers were planning our wedding despite the fact that we never expressed interest in each other like that.

“Irina?” I mean to say it ashellobut the shock makes it come out as a question. Her breasts are too large, her waist too narrow, her nose too thin, and her lips too full. She still has blonde hair but it’s now clearly enhanced by a bottle - which is pretty damn obvious, if even I can tell. The plastic surgery is also obvious and I briefly wonder if she’s found her way into the products her family handles from Columbia. The sunken appearance of her eyes and too-thin waist would leave me to believe it’s a strongyes.

“Ohmigod!” she squeals as she launches herself at me. Guilt stabs me in the gut.

If I had stayed, would I have been able to save her from this addiction?

With no time to spend on the thought, I quickly hold up a hand to stop her approach because everything on my person hurts. “Irina, no. I’m injured.” If she can’t tell that by looking at my busted face, then she’s definitely high right now. I can only see out of one eye and I still have blood on my neck and clothes. I’m surprised she even recognized me. “It’s good to see you, but I’ve only just gotten back and I need to take care of a few things. I’ll see you in a few, okay?”

Her pout is dramatic but I make no further comment as I skate by her with one thing on my mind.

Libby.

The stone staircase is wide and has always been one of my favorite features of Castillo de Hielo. There is no railing because the staircase fans out and connects to the wall on each side, like a skirt that flares at the bottom. I falter as I hit the first step, a memory flashing so vividly behind my eyes it takes me a second to catch my breath.

Adriana used to fling herself into my waiting arms from the third step after hearing the massive oak doors open at the front of the house, announcing my arrival. I’d give anything to see her one more time. If the fact that she’s gone doesn’t hurt enough, another second longer and I remember that it was me who took her life and my chest constricts so tightly it feels like heart attack.

I climb the stairs slowly, keeping one hand on the wall as the memory threatens to knock me off balance. Hiting the landing to the third floor, I run into Luis. He flaps the lapels on a cream-colored linen suit as he casually saunters out of the Violet Room which makes the hair on the nape of my neck rise.

Stay the fuck away from her.

The gold watch on his wrist and gold chain around his neck make him look sleezy and it takes a lot of effort not to let my disgust show on my face.

Once again, I’m assaulted by thewhat-ifmind-fuck. If I had stayed, would I be just like him right now? I end up brushing the thought aside. Luis and I couldn’t be more different.

I have no more time or energy left to devote to thewhat-ifs.

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