Lorde - Glory and Gore
Moscow, Russia
Seven Months Ago
Snow falls, the day reads the thirteenth, while the crisp November air filters through the open window.
One. Two. Three.
The third knock is much lighter than the others. I pull open my door, and she enters, her cart in tow.
Routine moves me back to the seat at the window, compulsion darts my eyes to her array of disinfectant sprays, while her silence settles what disorder another presence in my space brings.
Until she's not silent anymore. "Sir, you have a visitor."
My eyes dart past her mops to the living space outside, spotless and empty. A single glance back to her is all my housekeeper needs to understand me. "It's one of those twins." She begins at my library, carefully pulling each book from the shelf and wiping it like she'd been doing since I was a child. "The one that visits my room too often."
I move to the door, she calls after me. "Tell him I'm shipping my daughter to the ocean if he keeps coming at night when I'm sleeping." Her words are long forgotten when I walk out of my bedroom, and to the door that separate my space from the rest of this place.
The hinges creak, six people stand outside the hallway, all peeked at the sound, while their eyes soak in the sight of me.
Thirty thousand square meters of space in this palace and yet I couldn't breathe without someone whispering about my whereabouts. Asking for my orders. Reporting my every move.
I let Dima inside where he hurries, knowing to make it quick for it's only a matter of time before my mother hears of my visitor and comes running.
The door clicks shut and I instantly look at him.
He's back too soon. Why.
"Zlata has run to America." He speaks in a hushed tone, while I tense at the news. "Do you suppose she knows of your plans?"
If she did, Dima would have be hung before everyone under my mother's influence as a symbol of what would become of a traitor.
I offer a simple response. "No."
"There's more." He hesitates. "She's been captured by Italians. They think you sent her as a spy."
That sours my mood but doesn't surprise me. My sister was good for one thing, ruining all that she touched.
If she's been captured, she's been compromised. My sister wasn't all that strong, nor could she be trusted not to talk. If she knew anything of my plans, it'd complicate things.
She wasn't worth the complication she'd bring.
My mind works fast and forms a plan. "Arrange a call with Alessio Galanti." I'd been maintaining peace with the Italian Don, I wouldn't let Zlata ruin it. I also wouldn't be foolish enough to use a phone within a twenty kilometer radius of this place. My mother had it all tapped.
"It's not Alessio Galanti that's captured her." His words make me pause. "It's a man called Silvio Ademaro."
Of course, the name rings a bell, I'd studied any and every potential threat that I'd face when it was time to go to America. Dima, however had been there and met them all on my behalf. "Will he be a problem?"
"He doesn't like Russians at all." At his somber tone, I reach for my phone and navigate to the folder I'd compiled, full of information on any and every Italian.
Studying our enemies was a necessity.
I navigate to the one named Ademaro.
There I find Silvio, his wife and their three children. They're the perfect family. He's the perfect father.
Shame, they'll be anything but when I'm done with them.
"What do you want me to do?" Dima asks, his tone hushed.
Mine's firm. "Inform the others, we leave for America tonight."
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Adrik
"She's dead."
I have yet to catch sight of his face, but I spot the rise of his shoulders, the drop of the fork in his hand and the way he stands, so sudden and serious as he excuses himself from the dinner table.
"What?" Disbelief coats his fear stricken voice.
I drive forward, it's nothing but a few feet in distance but enough to catch the lights flicker on as he appears through the window of his office.
"This is all your fault." My voice is calm and quiet. Nothing but a murmur as I watch from behind the wheel. Waiting. "You let my sister go instead of handing her over to me. You let her live and she used it to kidnap your daughter."
"It was my daughter for your sister." The older man shakes his head, as though my words are nothing but a lie. "You were the one who suddenly refused."
His statement takes me back to a simpler time. A time where I'd landed in America, planned to kidnap his daughter in exchange for my sister.
I'd planned three run ins with Sabrina Ademaro, used her sheltered naivety to my advantage. I'd done it for my sister's life. She threatened what I was planning, and so, I wanted to end it.
Things took a turn the day I sent men to Silvio's jet. And everything changed when I met Celina Ademaro.
She was the biggest complication I'd ever faced, and the only one I couldn't bear getting rid of.
"If Celina's dead..." Voice cracking, his words are so unsettling, I can do nothing but rub my chest as the thought feels catastrophic. "It's your fault. You let it happen."
His accusation ebbs at my composure. My hands tighten around the steering wheel and I watch him move to the lockbox behind his desk and punch in the pin.
Four clicks, three consecutive, the last a millisecond later.
Eleven thirteen.
Her birthday.
He pulls a gun from the safe and tucks it behind his back. "She was safe with me-"
I hang up.
The seed's been planted, I didn't need to stick around for his incessant whining.
It's long, twenty five minutes too long before four SUV's pull onto the street, all exact models of mine. They roll to a stop before his townhouse. I watch as Silvio walks into one of the cars, and I wait a moment as they pull down the street, before following behind.
Despite my mother's efforts, I'd find a way to them, one way or another.
And I wasn't planning to waste any time.
Silvio and his men lead me to a building in Jersey. On the outside it's abandoned, the windows are boarded shut yet cameras line every corner. I slip in between two of the SUV's, blending in just fine and I follow the line into the underground garage.
It's there where I lag behind, idling in the parking lot while the Italians get out, and the moment I catch sight of my mothers lap dogs emerging from the staircase, I seek out the second staircase and slip through it.
I make it up thirteen flights of stairs before I encounter two men positioned at the door.
I kill the first, the second fires his pistol into the wall behind me, and by the time he can aim it precisely at me, I've got my gun pressed to his temple.
He stills, I speak, "Where is she?"
"Inside." He doesn't even hesitate to beg for his life, "Second door to the right."
Her men are far more pathetic than I remember. It makes the kill less satisfying, but I still put a bullet through his skull and fetch his key.
Cameras follow me inside, to the second door on the right, and only when I kick through the locked door do the cameras on the walls transform to screens, displaying every inch of the building.
She sits at the centre of it all, and only when she turns am I forced to stare into eyes like mine.
"Adrik." The name spills with familiarity, the kind that takes me back to my adolescence. A time where I'd admired her, done things for her, and nearly killed myself for her approval.
"I was wondering when you'd make time for me." Her cold eyes, they crinkle at the corners when she smiles.
Her anger I could take. Her fear I relished in. Her smile was nothing but a warning, while her delight was where the true evil lied.
I say nothing.
A simple tilt of her head sends her long hair down her shoulders. "You look tired." Her fingers, cold and rough grip at my chin and force my head to the side where she examine the side of my face. "Dirty."
I hadn't slept nor eaten. Yet the filth from her touch is nothing in comparison.
Unbothered, I stare at the screens around the room. Half are positioned in the parking garage downstairs with the Italians, and before I can find the one in the room where she's being held, my mother tries to get a reaction from me. "I don't like what that girl is doing to you."
She spits the reference with an intensity that gives truth to how she really feels for Celina.
"She's messing with your head. It's making you weak." Her wrist feels so frail in my hold, it's all the easier to wretch it from my skin.
"I came for her." I tilt my head and twist her hand in the process. "Not for you."
my mother plays it off with a hum, but her hand trembles as she pulls it free from my grasp. "I don't know what you see in her. I offered you women much better and yet all it took was a pretty face and a dirty mouth,"
My eyes coast to the wall of screens, and when I find the concrete room, it's empty. "You won't find her anywhere."
I don't let the panic take over. I don't jump to conclusions.
She's fine.
She has to be fine.
I've held onto my composure for this long, I can't let it shatter now. It proves to be impossible when I realize she's not here.
My mother gets the worst of my fury, stored in the barrel of my gun. "Where is she?"
Satisfied, she stands taller. "Not here."
But what she forgets is that she doesn't have any power over me anymore. I pull the hammer, and rest my thumb over the trigger. "Then I have no use for you."
"You don't want to kill me." There was nothing more I wanted in this world than to watch the life drain from her eyes. To never have to hear her voice again. "How else will you be able to find that wife of yours?"
Despite her words I'm tempted to pull the trigger. Erase her from my life for goo. I've wanted nothing more than to kill here for years. But something stops me.
A something I know I can't live without. A something that fills me with so much unease, there's only one person who can make it stop.
I toss the gun somewhere behind me, but grip her life in my hand when I grab her neck and begin to squeeze.
The lack of people around us, tells me I have in fact caught her off guard, and the sudden anger in her eyes tells me she'll use what little she has over me to its fullest potential. "What happened to my sweet boy?"
"You happened."
Blue eyes spark with annoyance as she claws at my wrist. "Stop this radical tantrum, Adrik. Come back home and I'll let you run my empire, so long as you let me give you a proper wife-"
I drag her by the neck. "I have a wife and I have an empire."
I never wanted what was hers, it's why I left.
When my mother's lips start to pale, I release her, shoving her into the wall where she stumbles. "Have it your way then." A fire lights her gaze. "She requested a passport and a phone. I let her take the jet."
Carefully, my eyes trail her figure as she walks to one of her desks and returns with a phone in hand. A live map sits on the screen and I realize she'd let her go.
Something about that seems far more unsettling than keeping her hostage. She gives her up to easily. Alarmingly so. "What'd you say to her?"
My mother doesn't smile, she throws her head back and laughs in delight. "Ask her yourself."
It's a split second of time that I have to decide. Either to stay and kill my mother, or to leave and find my wife. My mother's men file up the stairs, limiting my time.
It all comes down to what I want more. A risk for a reward, only I don't dare risk something so valuable.
My body works before my mind, turning towards the door, only just as I make it, her voice stops me.
I turn, she tosses something to me. "She forgot that here." I catch what appears to be a small booklet, and the delight on my mother's face tells me she didn't. "Give it back to her for me."
She laughs on my way out. I can't shake just how dangerous her delight feels.
. . .
It takes me eight hours to catch her.
Seven are spent on my jet refreshing her location on the phone I'd taken from my mother, the last hour is spent roaming the crowded streets of London until I find myself at a pub.
The phone proves to be useless now. I snap it in half and toss it in a nearby bin before stepping up to the doors.
Music blasts from inside while the two men at the door gesture to my left. "Back of the queue-"
I ignore them both and step inside, where the music shakes the floors and controls the speed of the flickering red lights. The space encompasses every single thing I hate most in the world.
People. Drunk, loud, and occupying every last inch of space.
Fuck.
Dread courses through me as the beat builds. My feet move on their own, through all the bodies, all the germs, while my eyes seek green ones. Only all that I find aren't accompanied by dark hair and red lips.
She's fine.
Only now, I feel it's nothing but a lie.
A sweat breaks at my nape, the room begins to shrink.
She's not fine.
Exhaustion blurs my vision, and fatigue worsens my sanity.
It a physically pain. A psychological turmoil.
She's not here.
I stumble to the bar and rest my shanking hands atop the counter. It's all too much. The music, the people, the unwanted touches.
She's not here.
The panic. The reality of my loneliness in this crowded room. My eyes shut and with each heavy breath, I loose more of myself to the mania.
She's not here-
It takes a single laugh, loud and in the far distance for it all to shrink in comparison.
In an instant, the music fades, so do all the faces around me. It's nothing but the woman across the bar. Laughing, with her head thrown back.
The man in front of her doesn't deserve to sit on the receiving end of it, but I don't care. I hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten either. The mere sight of her makes it all worth it. So much so that it threatens me to my knees in gratitude.
Instead, I push past what stands in my way until I'm stood behind her at the bar, inches from her.
I itch to touch her, breathe her in. I settle as my hands rest atop the bar on either side of her. So close and deliberate that when she tips her head down, I catch the tension in her shoulders.
I expect her to fight me. She does not such thing. Instead, she tilts her head back to look up at me, an innocent ignorance in her voice. "You're interrupting something." Her hazy eyes focus on the underside of my chin and she frowns. "Do you mind?"
I flicker my gaze between hers. Red irises cloud around dilated pupils. She's not entirely herself right now. "I do mind actually."
"Okay, well..." Her brows furrow in confusion, before she shakes the thought off as though it's too much work to think about, "That doesn't sound like my problem."
I make it my problem when she turns back to the bartender, ignoring me with a smile in her voice. "Another one, please."
Please. She says please, unironically.
Her voice is soft, and so genuine the man at the bar laughs, clearly enamored by her, "It'll cost you, sweetheart."
"I don't have any money." Violent rage blurs my vision at the way he looks at her. As though she's not clearly mine. I step forward and itch a hand back for my gun, only as my fingers graze the cool metal, the girl infront of me begins to lift her tight black t-shirt over her head.
The bare skin of her abdomen glistens beneath the red lights, and she gets it halfway off, before I grip the hem and pull it back down. "That's enough." My voice is firm in her ear, yet loud enough for him to hear.
The man's disappointed eyes find mine, only to falter as a nervous laugh bubbles from his chest, instead of pouring her a drink, he holds out a water bottle to her, while he speaks to me. "I-I don't mean any harm."
I don't find it humorous when I reach for the water. "I do."
There's a split second where I debate reaching for him, dragging him over the bar, pushing him onto the floor and smashing his skull beneath my shoe, but I'm distracted and all she'd done was turn around to face me.
Words escape, I register her face and every perfect detail of it. She wears no makeup, not even her red lipstick, but her breaths pour from between her lips and her head sways to the music.
The red lights temporarily fade what hints at a bruises beneath her left eye, while two cheap bandaids stick to the side of her head, mostly concealed by her hair. The thought of the gash beneath, untreated and brining her any pain make me realize I hadn't known true rage until her.
Yet despite it all, breaths escaped her lips, and as if that's no proof enough her chest heaves slightly.
She's fine. My girls fine.
A finger pokes at my chest, "That was so ugly of you." She doesn't let me respond before she's stumbling past me and into the crowd.
Without letting her out of my sight, I find her in the mass of people and instinctively, my hand curls around her hip, guiding her back to me.
She doesn't refuse me, far too focused on swaying to the music, I take the opportunity to open the bottle, grab her chin and bring it to her lips.
She lets me pour it into her mouth, only when she swallows does she gag, and cough, opening her eyes to stare at me like I'd poisoned her. "Ew, what is that?"
"It's water." I murmur, gripping her chin once again and forcing another sip. "Drink it."
"No." She spits, her eyes narrowed.
Yet despite her protest, she lets me pour the water into her mouth and when she swallows it, I smile a little. "Good girl."
The song changes into one she suddenly doesn't like and without any regard for anything else she abandons me, and stumbles out onto the street.
I loose her in the crowd outside for a moment, before I find her near the curb, next to a man smoking a cigarette. She smiles at him, "Can I have a smoke, please?" Airy and so light, she tilts her head and smiles in a soft manner that's so unlike her, I stare in wonder. "I'll take off my shirt for you-"
Before the prick can even think about how she'd look without her shirt, I snake an arm around her waist and drag her along the street, only setting her down when she squirms free.
She stumbles against the cobble stone, barely casting me a glance. "Who even do you think you are?" The sequence of words comes out wrong, but the confusion on her face, paired with her genuine tone, tells me she's far too under the influence to check into reality.
A reality where she hates me, and all I've done.
I step forward and push the hair stuck to her temple behind her ear. "Your husband."
That gets her complete attention.
She blinks at me once, twice, and for a moment I think she'll recognize me. The moment passes when she takes offense to my words and suddenly pushes away from me to break off into a sprint down the street.
Between her stumbling and obvious lack of coordination, she doesn't make it far at all. I catch up to her with my leisurely strides alone. And it's only when I reach her that she turns and jumps, clutching her chest in pure shock. "How'd you find me?"
Humor filters through my gaze, tugging my lips up to one side. She'd barely made it down the block before stopping to catch her breath. "I'll always find you."
Green eyes dart behind me, she tries to make it inconspicuous, but when she straightens, I know she's planning to run again. "Don't even think about it."
Shoulders drop, her glossy eyes come up to me, and I don't find any traces of recognition in them. I don't quite know how to feel about it.
I settle for relief and without so much as another thought, I reach forward and flatten my thumb over the pulse in her neck. Yet another reminder she's alive and okay. "Are you high?"
Dim street lights cast small shadows along her face, I examine the busies hidden beneath them, while she nods, "Very much."
I'd make them pay for every scar they left, every bruise they caused, every little cut they made.
I raise a brow and speak softly. "Are you drunk?"
She smiles, it's so genuine and soft, I falter, "Only very much."
I give a low hum and move my thumb to trace her cheek, before ever so softly skimming my thumb beneath her left eye where I know a bruise sits, hidden beneath the dark night. "Do you even know your name?"
A flutter of her lashes, while nothing sits behind her eyes. When she responds, her voice is almost small, timid. "Am I suppose to?"
I bite back my smile. "Do you know who I am?"
She gives her head a light shake.
I hesitate, debate telling her my name, but fear what it'll shatter what we have. She'll go back to hating me, and I can't have that right now.
I don't ask anything else, I just bask in her presence, and let the sight of her ease my mind. The wind whips her hair behind her, while it sends goosebumps across her arms.
I slip my blazer off and pull it over her shoulders, before grabbing her hand in mine and gently tugging her down the street. She complies silent for a long moment, until she speaks through a tired mumble. "Why are you stalking me?"
Her question is so soft, I pause to glance down at her before bringing her hand to my lips. Bruises cuff her wrists, it feels like a stab to the chest. I place kisses across the welts and murmur my response against her skin. "Because I really like you."
The words are nothing in comparison to how I feel for her. To what I'd do for her. The lines I'd cross.
"Me?" Those dark brows of hers furrow while her soft voice creeps into my chest and squeezes so hard, I can't find it in me to breathe. "Really?"
I don't like how it's hard for her to believe it.
"Really."
Softness touches her eyes as she gazes up at me. While the flush on her cheeks intensifies. "But why?"
I wonder the same, but instantly know the answer.
Because she's different, in the worst way possible. In the way you can't get out of your head. The way that frustrates you to no extent.
It's the same way I want her imperfections. The trouble she brings. The chaos she causes. The mess she leaves in her wake.
I can't get enough of it. I want all of her.
Instead of speaking it, I pull her forward and into my chest. My fingers bury into her scalp from behind and I on a random street halfway across the world, I savor the warmth of her body against mine for I know it won't last.
She's fine.
Celina's first to pull away and I realize it's to examine my ring when she lifts my left hand in both of hers. "You're... married?"
I watch her, she's genuinely concerned. "You sound disappointed."
When she lifts her gaze, her smile falls. "I thought we were going to have sex."
I exhale, before a low chuckle escapes and I pull her towards me. "I don't think my wife would want that right now."
A single head nod is what I get, before her fight slowly begins to die. Half lidded eyes, and another grin so sweet, I falter to stare. "Does your wife know how lucky she is?"
I lower my lips to her forehead and place a kiss there. "I think I'm the lucky one."
She yawns, I lift her into my arms, where she complies, nesting her head against my chest as though it's in her nature. "What are you doing?" She mumbles, tired and spent.
Reality slowly settles down as I walk down the street. There were things left unsaid. Emotions burned. Feelings hurt.
I could forget it all for tonight, and bask in the warmth she brought, but it wouldn't change things between us.
I hate that it won't.
"You'll hate me tomorrow, but just give me tonight." I whisper, "I need it."
"You need me..." she echos in a murmurs, nesting herself into me. A content smile plays at her lips. "I really like that."
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Kinda short chapter but I wanted a little bit of cute stuff before the next chapter 😭 what do we think will go down next?
Also I hope Adrik's story is slowly making sense.
-
Guys I had to do a presentation for work at my university infront of a group of students bc my manager signed me up for it, even tho I literally HATE public speaking.
Anyways, the thing is when I get nervous, I talk really fast. Like SO fast. So I was practicing all week what I would say bc I didn't want to mess up
PLZ tell me why I was up there spitting bars at Eminem speed. Like I literally blacked out bc I was so nervous spitting bar after bar for 2 mins straight😭 I didn't even have time to catch a breath.
And the funniest part is only 6 PPL SHOWED UP, instead of the 35 that were suppose to be there so idk what I was so nervous for 💀
Anyways hope you enjoyed the chapter. ILY so much and see you next time ❤️