"Don't trust the beginnings, truth is told in the last moments."
- Ahlam Mosteghanemi
. . .
Andros Kozlov
"What did I do?" I asked.
"Tried to choke me to death," Lucain muttered, rubbing his neck as he stuffed his face with an omelet using his other hand.
I rubbed my wrists. They felt sore. "Good. Maybe you'll bitch a bit less today."
"You should be grateful I didn't break your fucking hands." He pointed his fork at me. "Sleep with Hedeon or Alexandre in the room from now. I need to get my eight hours."
"You're the one who fucking offered," I muttered, grabbing my sunglasses and wearing them. We were on the deck, having breakfast. We always had breakfast here. We needed the sun as we always worked indoors.
"Where is Dahlia?" I asked.
"Hedeon and Alexandre went to grab her," Lucain said, nodding as one of the maids asked if he'd like more orange juice. I watched as she eyed his hands and then walked away when he didn't say anything else.
"I think we need a new maid," I said. "Again."
Lucian sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's getting annoying. We should hire someone old as shit just so she wouldn't fucking stare."
Lucain was...selective about the people he slept with. And he hated it when anyone from the staff tried to get close. Considering his past, I didn't blame him for firing whoever tried anything, especially when it was made clear to everyone at the very starting that he wouldn't like anyone approaching him for anything remotely sexual.
But people liked pushing boundaries and trying to be the exception.
"Someone 'old as shit' won't be able to work, Lucian."
"A man, then," he said.
"He'll have the responsibility of serving Dahlia, too."
"A gay man, then."
"Anyone can easily lie about their sexuality."
"Fuck you, Andros."
"Don't make me choke you again."
. . .
Dahlia didn't come to breakfast. Bobby did.
I watched as he ate from my plate, a bit unsure of what I was supposed to do in a situation like this. Lucian laughed, and then shut up as Bobby ate a bit from his plate too.
"This guy is trouble," Hedeon muttered, pulling Bobby closer to him. He gently petted his head, and Bobby, very reluctantly, decided to let him and not steal food anymore.
"Did he not have breakfast already?" Alexandre asked.
"He likes to steal," Dahlia, dressed in a black sweater and a white skirt, said as she walked towards us, her hands tucked behind her back. There were other people around, who stopped to watch her but decided they liked their heads where they were when Hedeon glared. "And eat as much as he can."
"That can't be healthy," I said, pulling out a chair for her beside me. She sat down. Hedeon was on her other side.
"He is a bit over his healthy weight. I'm trying to regulate it. He hates me for it." She folded her arms against her chest, looking around. She looked at the town. "This feels very...exposed," she said. "What if someone reports your ship?"
"To who?" I asked. "The police won't do anything. No one will, actually."
She looked at me, dark eyes as dead as always. Why so sad, Dahlia? "What do you four do?" She asked. "Don't beat around the bush now, tell me the real answer. I'm here. And I don't feel like getting beheaded anytime soon."
I rubbed my aching wrist, her eyes followed the movement. Her throat moved as she gulped. I couldn't help the smirk which came on my lips.
"We provide protection," I told her, picking up Vaness who had wandered outside. She happily snuggled into me. "To desperate, rich people. We have a cruise company. I, personally, build ships. And..."
"And?" She blinked up at me.
"And we may deal with weapons."
"May?" She deadpanned. "Are you not sure?"
Bobby looked at me curiously, as if waiting for an answer, too. Little fucker.
"We do," I said, not really enjoying her anger. "That's all we do."
"I'm assuming none of this is legal," she said, looking at Hedeon, Alexandre, and Lucian. Lucian nodded, rubbing his neck. I could see red marks on his skin. I didn't mean to.
I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. It wasn't you.
I didn't mind hurting people. But Lucian was my brother. Not my blood, but that didn't matter to any of us.
Dahlia chewed on her bottom lip, taking in deep breaths as if to calm herself down. Her hand latched on the necklace around her neck. Alexandre gave her a gift?
"I can't lie and say that I'm not a bit...scared, right now," she whispered, eyes looking at the table as if to not meet our eyes. I frowned. "Do you have proof?" She asked. "Of Uncle Noah knowing you. Do you have proof?"
Hedeon watched her. "Of course. Will that make you comfortable?"
"That'll make my anxiety bearable," she said. "Whatever Uncle did, I know he'd never have trusted you guys to protect me if he didn't trust you completely. I trust him, even though I didn't know him as well as I thought I did."
. . .
I set another photograph on the table, rummaging through the cupboard in my office. My office was barely used. I liked working in my bedroom. "He gave me a ship in a bottle ages ago...I can't find it."
"I-I think I have enough evidence."
I turned. The table was flooded with a million gifts Noah gave us, a lot of photographs because Hedeon was a hoarder and a lot of old ship models Noah had given me.
"It is?" I asked.
She nodded, looking at the photographs. Her thumb brushed where Noah was grinning, standing beside Monets' parents. I was standing beside him, grabbing his leg. I didn't like cameras for a while when I was a kid. Hedeon's face was half hidden by his hair, and he was grinning at the camera, really grateful for being there.
The Monet twins were standing between their parents, both with tears on their faces.
I could still hear Lucain grumbling to his mom about having to share gifts. They didn't accept us for a long time, till I once sleepwalked out of the house. Hedeon followed me as I walked into the woods, trying to catch up. We both got lost together for days.
Lucain and Alexandre cried a lot harder when we got back home and apparently, they had cried every day we were lost.
"Why are they crying in this?" Dahlia asked.
I thought about it and then told her.
She frowned. "Wait, then, where were you before you lived with them?"
My smile disappeared. "I-" My jaw clenched. "We...with our parents, Dahlia. We were with our parents."
She eyed my fisted hands. "Why do you look like you're going to punch me?"
My hands loosened. "Dahlia, I...I would never."
Could I even promise that? What if I slept one day and somehow found her in my rage? She wouldn't be able to defend herself. I'd hurt her. Could she sense my madness? Did she know to run from it?
Her face blanked and then panicked. "That's not what I meant! I know you wouldn't hurt me, Andros."
I took the photograph down. "Go to Hedeon's office when you're done. I need a nap."
I walked into Anexandre's room. He paused from his reading, raising his eyebrows at me. "Who pissed you off?"
I laid on his bed and closed my eyes. "Don't leave," I said. "And make sure Dahlia is away."
"Andros-"
"Just do it," I said. "I think I'll do a lot worse than choking today."
. . .
Dahlia
This was like discovering your father had another family.
There were millions of photographs across the table, showcasing just how little I had known Noah.
I looked at one in which Noah was standing with Hedeon or Andros. I tried to guess which one it was. But I couldn't.
And I couldn't stop thinking about how Andros had reacted to what I said.
I would never.
While Andros hid his emotions with a smile or a smirk, he had shown a different emotion for just a moment. Horror.
Of course, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. My gut feeling was fucked, but it wasn't this fucked.
They could easily hurt me right now and I wouldn't be able to do a thing. They were a lot stronger, and I was on their ship.
But, the way Noah was grinning sitting beside the Monet twins in a photo told me to calm down.
I could see him signaling, sitting on a chair in his backyard under the sun. They're safe, Dahlia. Do you think I'd leave you in danger? You're my favorite.
He wouldn't leave me in danger. These four had to be safe. They had to be good. Uncle wouldn't have chosen them to keep me safe if they hadn't been good.
Or capable.
I sat down on a chair, drained. I wasn't built for plot twists like this.
. . .
I woke up in cold sweat, my nails digging into my neck as I cried.
The bloody images from the dream flashed in my mind. The axe glinted in the night, it slashed through my neck as if my flesh was water. The pain was real. It burnt through me.
I got out of bed, wiping the tears off my face. I needed air. I needed to get to the deck. I needed to be able to breathe.
I walked out of the room on wobbly legs, trying to remember which way was the deck. Vaness and Bobby followed me.
I somehow found the deck and sat on the ground, gripping the lower part of the railing and I tried to breathe. Alive, Dahlia, you're alive. You can breathe. You can stand.
"Dahlia?"
I looked up with blurry eyes. I could only see his silhouette in the darkness. He sat down beside me, cupping my face. "Dahlia."
I sniffled. "Which one?"
"Hedeon." He wiped my tears. "What's wrong?"
"Nightmare," I whispered. "I can't breathe."
"Of course, you can, Dahlia," he said gently. "You are breathing right now." He took my one hand and set it on his heart. "You can breathe. Why don't you breathe with me?"
"I-I can't-" More tears spilled out. "He- the dream-"
"Shh," he whispered, pulling me closer. "Lap?"
I nodded, letting him crush me against his bare chest. I cried into it, shaking like a leaf. He slightly rocked me, rubbing my back and cradling my neck.
"You're okay, Dahlia. I'll make sure you'll always be okay. I'll keep you safe."
"Y-you will?"
"I will," he promised. "I will keep you safe till the threat dies, and I'll keep you safe after that."
. . .
Alexandre Monet
I watched as Andros moved. From his rigid movements, I could tell he was sleepwalking. He slowly sat up, his back turned against me. He moved his neck from side to side. I braced myself.
He mumbled something under his breath and then launched towards me. A knife glinted in his hand. Of course, the fucker knew where I hid mine. I grabbed his wrist, trying to twist it, but he was strong. His other hand fisted and landed on my side, hitting an old injury.
"Motherfucker," I grumbled under my breath, throwing him away. His lifeless eyes looked at me, mouth twisting in a smile. As a child, I found this creepy. Now, it was just an inconvenience.
I blocked his hand as he tried to stab me again. I punched his face, trying to get him to wake up or stop. He didn't. He kept trying to stab me.
I punched his stomach and watched as he laid flat on the bed. In a few moments, he was woken up.
Andros was a silked fighter. When sleepwalking, he wasn't as skilled. If he had been, we'd both be covered in blood right now.
He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He looked at his hand which held the knife. His eyes widened in panic as he looked over me.
"Never in a million years could you have stabbed me," I told him, sitting down on my chair. "Go back to sleep."
He kept looking at the knife in his hand.
"What if she had been here?" He asked quietly.
I paused. "What do you mean?"
He threw the knife away, rubbing his face with his hand. "Fuck."
"Go to your doctor."
"There is no fucking cure for this," he snapped. "I'll die like this one day. I'll go too far and one of you will have to kill me. That's the only end for me, Alex."
. . .
Thots?