Page 65 of Saviour

Fuck, I’mhome.

Isit at the dining room table, throwing daggers at Carlo. I’ve sobered up a little this afternoon after drinking myself into complete oblivion last night. I hit the gym this morning and sweat it all out, desperate to do something, when Carlo caught me as I was heading back to my room.

“I need you in the dining room in the next hour.”

I ignore him and let my feet take me further down the hallway until I reach my door. I slam it closed behind me and drop down onto the bed, staring at Rori’s side. I hate her not being by my side where I can protect her. Some days I let my thoughts get away from me and hope that she did run. She ran far away and is living a peaceful and stress-free life. But the Rori I met didn’t have that, and I know the Rori after me wouldn’t have that. She’ll never be free.

Rori couldn’t outlive me, just like I could never outlive her.

The wolf and the swan. One a predator, the other prey, but somehow neither can survive without the other. I will hunt her every time she runs.

“Fly back to me, Birdie,” I whisper into the air, hoping that wherever she is, she’ll hear it.

* * *

Within the hour,I’ve showered and put on a fresh new suit, enjoying the power it gives me compared to the joggers and T-shirts I’ve been wearing the past few weeks. If I’m going to get my family back, I need to be myself again. I can’t let them down anymore.

My gun sits comfortably against my side and I relish the comfort it brings me. I still wish I could blow this bullet straight through the middle of Carlo’s eyes.

Soon.

I have no idea for how long we sit here in absolute silence. He nurses a glass of scotch. I sip on my water. He lights a cigar. I pick invisible lint off my trousers. He smirks every now and then in my direction. I glare back.

It seems like a never-ending cycle and just as my patience starts to wear thin, there’s a small commotion in the entrance hall and footsteps start to get louder. Three sets of heavy boots followed by a quiet clack of heels.

And though I know Carlo has no bounds, the sight that greets me at the door has me thundering out of my chair, my gun in my hand and aimed directly at the man in a shitty suit standing in front of the other three.

The man in front is older than I expected, maybe late sixties, which makes my stomach churn. His suit pants are black, but his blazer is a dark grey and the white shirt underneath is crinkled and in need of an iron. This man isn’t wealthy, but he has a power I can’t overcome. Because he hasher.

Rori is held up in the middle of two men, who are smaller in comparison to me, but maybe a little bit older. They look almost identical and I can tell from flicking my eyes between the three men that they are all related. They are clearly his biological sons.

Rori’s eyes are on me, but they’re hazy. She has a small smile on her lips, but the way her face is drooped and her body weak and slumpy against the two men, I know she’s not herself. What the fuck have they given her?

She’s wearing black strappy underwear, a bra that criss-crosses over her stomach and a matching black thong, suspenders and sky-high heels. She looks skinny and fragile, like when I first found her and my heart cracks in two when she continues to look into my eyes.

I know she’s struggling to stay awake, or even keep eye contact, but she is. She’s trying to fight whatever the fuck is coursing through her veins and I fucking love her for it.

Swans are known to get aggressive and fiercely protective over their eggs. Over what’s theirs. Though some of it is true, they’re not really a huge threat. A swan isn’t going to bite your leg off or rip you to shreds. Not like a wolf.

But they will flap their wings, hiss and intimidate you. There’s a myth about them for a reason. And just like swans, Rori is no different. She’ll fight until she can’t. She’ll show her strength until it’s taken from her. But a wolf is nothing but loyal and I will protect what’s mine too.

I take a step closer, the gun aimed right at who I’m assuming is Maxwell’s head.

“Carlo, nice to see you again,” he says and his voice makes my blood boil. Knowing he’s spat venom at Rori, knowing he’s whispered horrible things in her ear, knowing he’s threatened her over and over with that voice.

“Maxwell,” Carlo addresses him, standing up and doing up the blazer buttons of his suit, which screams power and wealth a lot more than the scum in front of him. “I apologise for my nephew here.” He gestures his hand towards me and I take my eyes off Maxwell for a second to glare at Carlo, again.

“Let her go,” I say bluntly, my eyes back on Maxwell and my gun trained perfectly.

“I’m sorry, son, but Aurora is mine. She’s been mine for a very long time. She just got a little”—he looks back at her, tracking his eyes up and down her half naked body, and I step closer again—“lost.”

I scoff and edge another step further, my gun only inches away from his head now. The adrenaline coursing through my veins makes me restless and I try my hardest to keep my hand steady, because all I want to do is shoot this motherfucker.

“Rori is undoubtedly and unequivocally mine and mine alone.” My words are meant for her as much as the scum in front of me.

Her eyes fight to stay open, but they’re on me, shining with tears or love or relief or hope. I have no fucking idea, but I’m going to make her feel all those things soon.

“And what about the past few weeks, hmm?” he mocks. “What about then?”

---