Page 12 of Thorns of Lust
“Hurry,” she rushed us.
I assisted Maxim with his seatbelt and as he scooted out of the car, I followed behind him after unbuckling my own. Once outside, the other car switched to high beams and the doors opened.
Holding Maxim’s hand, I sheltered my eyes with my other. The door slammed. A soft gasp came from my left. It was my mother’s.
I barely had time to process it all when two of Papa’s men grabbed Mama. She didn’t fight, but her face paled even more. Maxim and I remained completely still, staring at our papa who wore a scowl and cold expression on his face. The coldest I’d ever seen.
He gripped a man by his throat. A man I had never seen before. He was choking him to death.
“Stop,” Mama screamed. Papa ignored her.
“Please, Konstantin,” Mama pleaded on a whimper. Lenosh, Papa’s right hand man, kept her captive as she struggled against him. “Please.” She kept fighting, her eyes on the man my papa gripped. A little boy stood behind him, shaking like a leaf. Was he supposed to be our brother? He looked nothing like us. He wasn’t a Konstantin. “Please don’t hurt him. It’s my fault.”
That seemed to infuriate Papa even more. The boy’s high-pitched wail registered.
“He touched what was mine,” Papa growled. “Took what was mine. He poisoned you against me. He’ll die, my little black rose. For your betrayal and his own, he dies. So will his line.”
Maxim started crying even louder, his hand gripping mine like it was his life raft. This wasn’t a life for him. Mama said he was too sensitive. Too weak for it. But not me. When she looked at me, she saw my papa. I knew it. She even said it a few times.
For the first time in my life, I saw Mother fight him. She clawed at the guards, spit at them, and screamed. She screamed so loud, it pierced my ears, and I was fairly sure it matched the boy’s high-pitched cries.
“I was his before I was ever yours,” she screamed. The words were directed at Papa, but her eyes were teary on the man Papa was slowly killing. He was gasping for air. It almost looked like Papa gave him just enough air to inhale then resumed his torture. “I hate you! I hate your touch. Sleeping in the bed next to you. I hate when you fuck me. I hate that my sons are your sons.”
The last sentence was Papa’s undoing. In one forceful move, he snapped the man’s neck and threw him onto the gravel. Mother finally freed herself from Papa’s men and ran to the stranger. Her lover.
She fell down to her knees, uncaring of the rips on her dress nor stones digging into her knees. Papa’s eyes turned black as the starless sky above us. Darker than the deepest depths of the oceans.
He retrieved his gun and pointed it at Mama.
My breaths felt heavy and my heart thundered violently. Maxim squeezed my hand so hard that he cut off my circulation. The cries of the boy, the whimpers of my brother… it all faded away, leaving only the harsh breaths of my mother with mine.
It all happened in slow motion. A gravel stone moved. A teardrop stained Mama’s beautiful cheek, rolling down her chin. The scent of roses against the freezing temperatures.
Father didn’t even hesitate. He pulled the trigger. A loud bang. Hot liquid splashed onto my face.
My mother’s blood. Even that smelled like roses. It stained her blonde hair, ruining it forever.
Roses and death. It was all it represented.
It was the first time blood touched me. Since then, I’d been drenched in it.
My phone beeped, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was my confirmation that the surveillance cameras were installed in her penthouse. Putting my phone away, my eyes flickered to the simple stone next to Adrian’s crypt.
My mother was buried here. A New Orleans native. I never understood why Papa brought her body here. Maybe he wanted her out of his country. Or maybe he felt guilty.
So yes, I fucking hated roses. There was only one person who had come close to eliminating my hatred for roses. Tatiana Nikolaev. My eyes flickered to her. The lone figure standing in front of the stone crypt.
Why did I save her? Maybe I didn’t want to witness the life leaving her eyes. From the moment I first spotted her, she had captured me. Too effortlessly. It wasn’t good to love a woman in our world. Just look at my father. Just look at Maxim.
Her brothers and the rest of her family stood only a few feet away. Their worried glances were on their baby sister. The sister they almost lost. The sister who married their best friend. The sister who didn’t know she held the destiny to most leaders of the underworld in her hands. That fucking chip. Adrian loaded all those goddamn videos on that chip along with information that wasn’t for public knowledge.
Her eyes stared at the niche plate. She hadn’t been crying, although even from a distance, I could see that she was pale. Her face was still marred by the fading bruises, despite her attempt at hiding them with those dark sunglasses.
Just seeing that bruise was enough to make me want to snap Adrian’s neck with my bare hands. He put her in that spot. He caused the underworld to go after her just by being his wife. As far as I was concerned, he got off easy. His death was too quick.
When she removed her glasses, those pale blue eyes hit me. The dark shadows under her eyes made them look even bluer than normal. It felt like peering into her soul while at the same time pulling all my darkest secrets from my own.
But the beautiful blue eyes that men had been falling all over themselves for years had lost their spark.
