The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)
The Counterfeit Lover: Chapter 33

The car drew to a halt as it reached the private landing strip where a plane was waiting to depart. Sneaking a glance at his companion, Michele studied her with narrowed eyes, something about the entire situation bothering him.

He didn’t know what it was. Technically, everything about her checked out.

Yet something prickled just beneath the surface of his skin.

‘The baby,’ he suddenly spoke. ‘You didn’t mention how he died before.’

She froze, slowly turning towards him.

‘I didn’t get the chance,’ she answered in a thickly accented voice.

‘Did Noelle really have something to do with his death?’

She nodded, and though Michele could not detect any untruths in her expression, something niggled at his conscience.

‘She wasn’t well,’ Lucero added. ‘Mentally. At some point, I think she became too overwhelmed by everything. She also didn’t know if her beloved had survived…’ she trailed off and Michele could fill in the blanks.

She’d gone over the edge.

Considering the environment she’d been forced to give birth in, he wagered postpartum—hell, even peripartum depression—could have been a serious issue. It wouldn’t be the first time a mother killed her own child because her mind was too clouded with negative emotions brought on by a deadly cocktail of hormones.

On the best days, the mind could be a scary place, able to overpower the strongest of people. Michele himself had first-hand experience of it.

That wasn’t to say that he excused infanticide. Far from it. Just as he didn’t excuse what he’d done with his own hands—but that was a heartache for another day.

From the moment he’d heard the entire tale, a hole had formed inside his chest. He’d watched his brother slowly pale as Lucero had recounted everything that had occurred at the hacienda and Michele had…felt sorry for Rafaelo.

He was intimately acquainted with the death of a child and the ravages that wrecked on a person—on a parent. Yet seeing his brother take in the news that not only had he been a father, but his son had been killed by his own mother—by the woman Rafaelo loved and cherished—was a type of hurt Michele couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Over time, he’d studied Noelle and Rafaelo enough to gain an understanding of their relationship and the fact that it thought itself unshakable when it was one step away from being blown by the wind.

His conversation with Noelle, weeks ago, and then Lucero’s claims had only served to cement the idea.

Noelle DeVille wasn’t who she said she was.

Michele’s lips twitched with displeasure and a deeply ingrained disdain towards those of her ilk.

From the beginning, Michele had been of a mind to finish his brother, but death wasn’t something he had in mind. No, he needed something more potent that ensured his brother’s attention would be fully captured by personal issues to even remember Michele.

As Michele had assured Andreas, Noelle’s kidnapping and his subsequent game with Rafaelo had been nothing more than that—a game. But also an opportunity to gain more information.

He’d already suspected there was something odd about Noelle after he’d done his due diligence and researched whatever he could about the hacienda and her former husband Sergio.

Michele had managed to track down some of Sergio’s former associates who had met Noelle and they all said a similar thing—she was a witch, a she-devil. And no matter how bad Sergio had been, even according to his own friends, she’d been worse.

During those inquiries, he’d absentmindedly encountered Lucero’s name, but he’d never pursued that lead because there had been no evidence to support her involvement in anything.

But the perfect situation had arisen when Noelle had brought up Lucero, naming her as Rafaelo’s true love?

Suddenly all the cards had been laid out on the table for Michele. And as he’d stepped back to look at the bigger picture, he’d realized it was messier than he’d previously thought.

He’d only had to track down Lucero, who currently lived somewhere in Texas with her family, and get the rest of the information from her.

The result had been simply…spectacular.

For Michele.

He doubted his brother would see it as such.

Indeed, if the situation had been different, he wagered he could see Noelle as a worthy opponent, or maybe, a friend.

But as it stood, he knew she would fight tooth and nail for her goals just as Michele did for his.

Her only mistake had been in underestimating how far Michele would go for a certain…someone.

To some extent, that had been his as well.

Though he’d never intended to kill his brother, Michele had never wanted to make it easy for him either. But now, faced with the utter mess that was Rafaelo’s life, Michele found no interest to continue with his games.

After all, wasn’t Noelle herself punishment enough for his baby brother? He wagered Rafaelo had his hands more than full with what was to come.

In a way, Michele found it ironic that his brother of all would fall for someone like Noelle. Someone so like…his own mother.

Cosima’s chief quality had been her flawless scheming.

She’d never cared about anyone but Rafaelo and she’d done everything in her power to ensure he was always at the top. It didn’t matter that she had to step on corpses to do so. It certainly didn’t matter that those she perceived as enemies had been children. For her, anyone standing against Rafaelo was to be taken out.

From what Michele had gathered about Noelle, including meeting the lady herself, he wagered she was even worse than Cosima had been.

After all, his step-mother had put her child above everything.

Noelle put Rafaelo above even her own child.

It was quite baffling, really, to realize someone who looked so innocent could be so vicious.

For someone who’d seen more than his fair share of cruelty in his lifetime, Michele admitted that Noelle would probably make it in his top three—and that was nothing to brag about.

Excitement drummed in his veins as he predicted how everything would unfold now.

And it was all because Noelle had dared to mess with his pet. If she’d never mentioned her name—never threatened her—then maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation.

Michele’s style had always been burn them before they can burn you. As such, he’d attacked Noelle before she could—turning her greatest fear into reality.

If Rafaelo was the only thing she cared about, then she’d have the greatest surprise when his love for her turned into complete…hate.

Rafaelo’s reaction to Lucero’s account had already been more than telling. He’d been shocked, and to an extent, in disbelief. But ultimately he’d been destroyed by the information.

Michele wondered how their confrontation would go, and as a fan of chaos, he regretted he wouldn’t be able to witness that first-hand.

But everything meant he was about to close a small chapter of his life. After he double-checked that Lucero had been telling the entire truth, of course.

He wouldn’t blindly believe anyone—least of all Lucero. Yes, the circumstantial evidence all pointed to her being right about Noelle’s true persona and what she’d done to his brother. Still, that didn’t mean that Michele, ever the skeptic, would accept the words that came out of her mouth as the pure truth.

No. Not at all. Her claims were just momentarily useful to punish Noelle for her provocation.

In fact, considering the doubts that he still had—small, but for a man such as himself, consequential enough to niggle at his brain—he wasn’t about to allow the woman to leave without having a secondary plan in place.

Andreas, already apprised of Michele’s suspicions, was ready to depart at the same time as her.

If there was anything Lucero was hiding from him, Michele would find out. At the same time, she would also learn that he was not a man to cross—regardless of the fact that her information had helped Michele prevail in his plans.

He might be unusually stuck in his ways, but he still had a weakness for fairness, or, at least what he considered to be fair since everything he’d done from the beginning had been in the name of justice.

Maybe it was justice of a personal kind, but he was of the belief that it unfailingly overlapped with universal justice.

And so if he had the smallest inclination to believe that something was wrong, he was going to pursue it until the very end.

That was perchance Michele’s chief quality. His unwavering and unyielding determination to see things through. It was to the point that it didn’t matter if he got hurt in the process.

Only the end result was important.

And though his main plan was still working as intended, and Michele continued to do his due diligence where that was concerned, there was one other thing that had taken over his mind—possessing him to such an extent he felt no longer in control of his own damn self.

But there was a chief difference between those two ruling—warring—goals. Deep down he realized that while going against McBride and his clique of corrupted politicians might end in his physical death, going after his other goal would result in his true end.

Watching Lucero remove her bags from the car, Michele leaned against the door, popping a cigarette in his mouth and studying her intently.

Andreas was by his side in a second, leaning in to ask a whispered question.

Michele nodded, giving him the green light to proceed as he saw fit.

‘I’ll see you soon, Andreas,’ Michele said as his friend led Lucero to the plane waiting for them.

Andreas would not only accompany Lucero back home, but he was to also spend some time there to make all the proper inquiries and put Michele’s mind at ease.

Michele waited until the plane departed before getting back in the car and instructing the driver to take him back home.

As soon as he reached his house, Lovely’s bark was the first thing to greet him.

A smile tugged at his lips just as something else tugged at his chest.

Being greeted by someone as he arrived home was a foreign notion, and one that had died years ago with his son.

Yet looking into Lovely’s eyes, he found a new optimism growing inside of him.

Swooping the dog in his arms, he brought his hand down his head, lightly petting him and scratching him behind his ears—all things Lovely loved.

Soon, there would be someone else waiting for him at home—greeting him with a sweet smile and even sweeter kisses.

That was the only thing that lightened his mood as he went to his newly renovated bedroom, taking a seat on the bed as he turned the monitors on.

And there she was, with her books in the kitchen.

Her pretty brows were knit together as she followed with her finger a line on the page, her lips working as she tried to read the words.

Now that Michele knew more about her disability and how much work she put in to overcome it, he couldn’t help the pride that suffused his chest.

Of course his pet would be up to his standard. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so fixated on her. She must have something worthy for his attention to be so thoroughly claimed by her.

And though he’d thought her average at some point, now he couldn’t even remember why.

He could only see her as she was—special.

Not just in her looks and the way they set his blood afire, but in her will, her determination and her quiet dignity.

He didn’t think he’d ever met someone more dignified than her.

And though that meant her continuous rebuttal of his attentions, he didn’t think he would be in so deep if that weren’t the case.

Besides, he was equally, if not more, determined.

He would have her. He would melt her fears away and he would bend her will to his. Maybe it would take longer than he’d anticipated, but at the end of the day she would belong to him. Then, finally, she would be the one greeting him when he arrived home.

Making himself comfortable with Lovely in his lap, Michele proceeded to watch his pet as she went about her day—anxious at seeing her reaction when she’d find the latest thing he’d left for her in her room.

Finishing up the page she was working on, she got up, going to the fridge and pulling some items from it to make herself a sandwich.

Michele watched closely, committing to mind the ingredients she chose to know what her preference was for the future.

Everything she was doing was utterly mundane. But to his eyes, it played like the most scintillating movie he’d ever seen.

She started eating, small bites as she directed her attention to her book, using one hand to eat and the other to write.

She made such an endearing picture. Especially as a strand of hair fell over her face, which she promptly blew away.

It was a couple of hours before she finished up her work and went back to her room.

In that time, Michele never once left his room, drinking in every second of her presence. It didn’t matter that he still had things to attend to and business to conduct. He did that curtly over the phone, his sharp mind working perfectly fine in spite of the fact that his eyes were held captive to the monitor.

The moment he noticed her gather her stuff to head to her room, his pulse quickened.

Lovely, sensing his excitement, gave a small yelp as he jumped out of his arms, pouting at Michele for not being the sole object of his affection.

‘Later, Lovely,’ Michele told him, expecting the dog to understand and move out of his way as he got closer to the screen.

Lovely pouted for a second before he scrambled off the bed and to his own sleeping place, curling on the soft pillow and curiously watching Michele’s rapt expression.

That was it—the moment he’d been waiting for.

His pet opened the door to her room, going straight for her desk to deposit her books. It was then that she did a double-take, noticing the new item that had been beautifully packed with a ribbon on top.

Her brows scrunched in confusion, and grabbing it, she looked around her room—no doubt thinking Michele might still be around.

When she didn’t detect anyone inside, she took a solid minute as she simply stared at the package, her lower lip between her teeth as she considered whether to open it or not.

‘Open it,’ Michele said in a low voice, his fists clenched in anticipation.

Until that moment he hadn’t entertained the thought that his pet might just…throw it away without even looking at it. And as that thought arose, so did the fear that she might not see what he’d gotten her.

It was a gift he’d put a lot of effort in. He’d done countless searches and research before he’d settled on it, thinking it was something his pet would both need and enjoy.

After what seemed like an eternity, his pet finally opened it—slowly, methodically. She didn’t tear at the packaging, nor at the ribbon. It was almost as if she wanted to preserve the outside as well.

To Michele’s eyes, however, her slowness indicated a lack of excitement, and immediately his spirits plummeted. She didn’t care for his gifts, did she?

For weeks now he’d done his best to leave her a little something every other day when he could sneak inside her house. Sometimes that would be while no one was home, but there were also those times when he snuck inside while she slept, and he took his time watching her before leaving, as if he’d never been there.

Aside from the gifts she always found in her room, he wagered his pet had no idea that he was almost always by her side during the night—sometimes going as far as touching her and laying by her side.

When she was almost done peeling the packaging paper away, she frowned as she took in the actual present—a tablet.

But it wasn’t just any tablet. It was one Michele had had specifically programmed for her and all the features were dyslexia friendly. But more than anything, there was one more gift inside.

And as his pet powered on the device, her eyes widened when she realized what was the true present.

Taking his own tablet from his table, he activated the screen mirroring so he could see exactly what she was doing.

Alright, so maybe his gift hadn’t been entirely selfless. But Michele couldn’t forgo the opportunity to study his pet in detail—and that included her internet browsing habits and the media she consumed.

The moment her tablet was on, a welcome message directed her to one of the apps he’d had installed on the device, followed by additional instructions that were not written, but spoken.

As she clicked on the icon, his voice jumped out of the tablet, startling her and causing her to almost drop the device.

‘What…’ she whispered, her eyes widening in surprise.

‘I hope you like this little present, Zia,’ he’d said, purposefully using her name so she could see he was serious about this—though it was for her benefit only. ‘I’ve included a lifetime subscription to an audiobook service, so you don’t have to struggle to read anymore.’ He went on to provide more details about the features of the tablet before the recording ended.

On the other side of the screen, Michele was on pins and needles as he awaited her reaction.

‘Audiobooks?’ His pet blinked, and after exploring the app a little, she settled on a title, clicking on it. Her mouth opened in awe as she heard the voice of the narrator, and she quickly started adjusting the speed and playing with the different options on the menu.

A wide grin appeared on her face at the variety of books on the app.

Though she didn’t thank him personally, Michele felt her gratitude in the way she threw herself on her bed, plugging in a pair of worn out earbuds into the tablet and choosing a book to play.

He blinked. Of course, earbuds were next.

But there was no denying the way she was enjoying his gift. In turn, his own mood brightened, and as a result, he did not kill one soul that day. Hard to achieve in his line of business, but he found himself extra magnanimous.

And it was all because of her. His pet.

Michele kept track of all her searches, curious to see what she’d want to listen to. At the same time, he queued the same titles so he could try them too.

For most people the day had only twenty-four hours. For Michele, it had twenty-four and Venezia hours. It was a wonder he could squeeze everything in his schedule and not make a single mistake. But that was exactly what he did.

He split his time between preparing for the next phase of his plan, and his pet.

It didn’t matter that he was only getting only a few hours of sleep per night. On the contrary, his mood vastly improved because he had something to look forward to—her.

For someone who’d never been excited about tomorrow, it was the oddest thing to not only anticipate it, but await it breathlessly.

Yet as the day passed, tomorrow became the day Michele dreaded the most.

The day even his pet’s presence could not brighten.

That night, he went to sleep with a bottle of Bourbon by his side, and he opened another one as soon as he awoke. Andreas and all his employees knew not to bother him during that day because chances were they would meet their end.

He languished the entire morning away, trying to forget all his thoughts and bury all his feelings. And after a bit more liquid courage, he finally jumped in his car and headed to the cemetery.

To Michele’s dismay, he was still very much sober by the time he arrived there. But as he found his way to his son’s mausoleum, he could barely keep himself upright due to the pain in his heart. Fumbling with the key to the lock, he finally opened the door, stepping into the darkness of the room.

‘Hello, bud,’ he croaked, his voice breaking with emotion.

In the middle of the mausoleum was Solomon’s tomb, and all-around, Michele had laid his favorite toys, seeking to turn the place into something Solomon would have loved, even in his death.

‘It’s been a while, huh?’ he forced a smile on his face.

The mausoleum had been fashioned like a home, and at the back of it was a table with two chairs. On the table, there was a big portrait of Solomon surrounded by a few candles.

Taking a seat on one of the chairs, Michele took out his lighter, lighting the candles and bringing some light into the darkness of the place. He only wished he could do the same with his heart, which was currently breaking as he stared at the picture of his son.

He could still imagine Solomon as he’d been—happy and carefree. The joy and pride of Michele’s soul. He might have been his adoptive son, but for Michele he had been everything. The proof that family didn’t come down to shared blood. It all came down to love.

Yet those years seemed so far away.

It was becoming harder and harder to grasp on to his form, or his voice, even when he tried his hardest.

Once more, guilt hit him straight in the chest.

If only he’d done things differently. If he hadn’t been so rash—so out of control with his thirst for vengeance against McBride—Solomon would still be here.

He would still be by Michele’s side, and they would be happy.

‘I brought you something,’ he cleared his voice, removing a small toy from his pocket and placing it on the chair opposite him, somehow imagining that his son was there, personally receiving the gift.

Michele only came there one a year. On Solomon’s birthday. He couldn’t physically bring himself to come any other day. On the anniversary of his death he simply buried himself in work and alcohol in an attempt to numb himself and forget.

But on this day… On this day he forced himself to remember. Because despite the pain, he still needed to honor his son’s memory. He needed to face his guilt and renew himself with strength for the journey he’d already committed to.

And that was by remembering.

Only by remembering what he’d loved and lost could he sharpen his resolve and push forward.

‘Daddy,’ Solomon’s voice cut through his focus. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong, bud. It’s just a small blackout, the power should be back soon,’ he explained, using his phone to light up the hallway as Solomon carefully made his way towards him.

‘I don’t like the dark.’

‘You’re not alone in that,’ Michele chuckled. ‘I’m not particularly fond of it, either.’

It was around eight in the afternoon, and Solomon still had time until his curfew. Without power, though, he quickly grew restless.

‘Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll bring some flashlights and we can play a game of chess. What do you think?’

Solomon debated his options, finally relenting. He wasn’t the biggest chess fan, but he did love playing with Michele, especially since lately his father had been busier than before. Any opportunity to play with his dad was a golden one for Solomon.

‘You take these to the living room and prepare the game. I’ll be with you in a second,’ he instructed as he placed a few flashlights in his arms.

When Solomon was out of earshot, Michele dialed Andreas.

‘There’s a blackout at the apartment,’ he started, his voice grave. ‘I’m looking out the window right now and none of the other buildings seem to be affected. I need you to investigate it and send a few men here, just in case,’ he said succinctly.

Michele wasn’t one to take chances just as he wasn’t one to believe in flukes or coincidences. Already, he had a bad feeling in his gut, but he didn’t want to worry Solomon too much.

‘Yes, sir. I’ll do that. I’m downtown so it won’t take me too long to get there, either.’

‘Good. I’ll see you in a bit. In the meanwhile, see if you can access any of the lobby feeds. I want to know if someone messed with the wires or something.’

‘On it.’

Once that was taken care of, he painted a smile on his face as he went to Solomon’s side. Though he hoped the blackout had no outside interference, he couldn’t discount that when he’d made a lot of enemies in a very short period.

Already, his brain was quick at work in case something was up. He had a built-in steel vault as a mini panic room for Solomon, and at the slightest indication that danger was looming, he’d take the boy and lock him inside. The vault could only be opened from the inside so Michele was sure no one could penetrate it.

When he stepped inside the room, Solomon had already laid out the pieces for the game and he was excitedly waiting for Michele.

‘Let’s see what we have here, bud,’ Michele smiled while taking a seat.

His phone by his side, he kept his eye out for Andreas’ messages in case he found something.

They started playing. Solomon’s attention was momentarily distracted from the blackout while Michele put on a jovial mask while he continued to be on alert.

Nothing on cameras.

The text from Andreas was meant to alleviate some of his worries. Instead, his panic increased even more as he heard a sudden sound.

Not one to risk anything, particularly Solomon’s safety, he put his hands on top of the boy’s.

‘Listen. I want you to go into the vault, the one I showed you before. I need to check something and make sure it’s safe. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

They’d done simulations in the past and Solomon knew not to question him on such issues.

His big brown eyes regarded Michele warily for a second before he nodded.

‘Is everything alright, daddy?’

‘It will be,’ Michele assured him, ready to face the world if he had to in order to keep the boy safe.

Placing the flashlight and one of his spare phones in the boy’s hands, he opened the vault and ushered him inside.

‘You know the drill. You don’t open it until I tell you it’s safe, ok?’

Solomon nodded.

‘I love you, daddy,’ he said in a small voice.

Michele hated that he had to worry him so much, but he’d take the chance if it meant keeping him safe.

‘I love you, too, bud. Hang tight, ok?’

Closing the door to the vault, he waited until he heard a light snap, sign that the vault was sealed.

His expression changed immediately as determination swept over his features. He wasted no time in gathering a few guns and plenty of ammo as well as a bulletproof vest. After so long with Nicolo, he knew how to take care of himself. And considering the shit he’d gotten himself in, he couldn’t discount anyone coming for his neck.

Holding tightly on to his gun, he stepped towards the door, placing his ear on its cold surface as he simply listened.

At first there was silence. To the untrained ear it was silence. But as he closed his eyes, zoning in on those pertinent noises, he knew instinctively that someone was moving about the stairwell. Based on the pattern of certain sounds, he was sure it was a rehearsed formation.

Professionals.

He knew instinctively he was the target, and if he managed to hold on until his own men arrived, everything should be fine. More than that, knowing Solomon was safe in the vault gave Michele all the confidence he needed.

He wouldn’t let some mercenaries come for his life. Not today, and not if he had something to live for.

Quickly shooting a text to Andreas to let him know the situation, he continued to observe.

Holding his breath, he focused once more on the sounds, detecting an increase in frequency. Almost as if his body knew before his mind, he jumped back just in time to get out of the way as the door was bombed to pieces.

Michele rolled on the floor, assuming his stance and aiming his gun at the men quickly entering the apartment.

He gave them no time to act. Though they were all armed up and armored from head to toe, he had the advantage of his slightly hidden spot as he aimed for the first man’s head.

One down.

He did the same with the second. And only when he aimed for the third did they realize where he was hiding, a storm of bullets coming his way.

He dodged, throwing himself on the other side of the sofa while he reloaded his gun.

Damn it, but how many were there?

Raising his head, he saw three more men come inside, and he aimed his gun, pulling the trigger for one of them just as he pulled the trigger on Michele.

It happened so fast he didn’t get to dodge the bullet, nabbing him in his right side.

He winced in pain but didn’t let it stop him.

Throwing his empty pistol to the side, he grabbed two automatic guns, both fingers on the triggers as he unleashed a destructive force on the unwelcome visitors.

He didn’t care who they were or who had sent them. They were in his home and threatening his family. That alone ensured them all a swift visit to the grave.

All fell to the ground as he continued to fire. Despite the adrenaline rush, Michele managed to keep his wits about him and notice the red light moving about the room.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered as he flew in the air, the bullet from the sniper hitting him in the shoulder where his vest didn’t cover his body. He didn’t get to get up as another bullet hit him in the chest—yet again in an area that wasn’t covered by the vest.

His breathing grew harsh as blood oozed from his wounds, his movements sluggish, his entire being filled with pain. He coughed some blood, his throat clogged and barely working.

Just a bit more.

He had to withstand it until the others came. Until…

He dragged himself on the floor towards his phone. His mind was growing foggy, his sight even more so. Immediately he knew they must have nicked an artery, or some major vein and he was bleeding profusely. He didn’t have long. Maybe a few minutes, tops.

His bloody fingers reached for the phone right as more steps resounded in the hallway.

Before he could do anything, three more men entered the room. Two were wearing full gear while the other was dressed in civilian clothes.

The man barely spared Michele a glance as he headed straight for the back of the apartment.

Michele’s eyes grew wide as sudden realization descended upon him.

They… They weren’t there for him?

But that wasn’t all, was it? They knew exactly where to go—where the vault was.

He opened his mouth to say something—what, he didn’t know. But the man’s voice resounded first.

‘Solomon? I know you’re there. Your daddy is hurt and is asking for you,’ the man said.

All at once, despite the pain—despite everything—Michele knew this wasn’t random. This was a localized attack with a clear purpose. They must have been on to him for a long time if they had that much information on him and Solomon.

At that moment, Michele could only pray that Solomon wouldn’t open the door—that he’d listen to Michele and not open the door to anyone other than him.

He couldn’t hear what Solomon replied—if he did at all. But the man did something else that surprised Michele. He used his voice.

‘It’s okay, bud. You can come out.’

His mouth trembled as he dragged himself on the ground. Nothing else mattered but getting to his son and making sure he was ok.

‘No, no, no,’ he mumbled, barely able to get the words out.

He dragged his heavy body to the hallway until he had a full view of the vault.

A click sound, and the door opened.

‘Where is my daddy?’ Solomon asked, sneaking his head out.

The men were by the door, waiting.

‘He’s right there, why don’t you come see him?’

Something wasn’t right…

‘No,’ Michele called out, this time the sound a bit louder.

They weren’t attacking him. They were just waiting…

Solomon opened the door wider, coming out of the vault.

His gaze was searching about the apartment, ultimately meeting Michele’s on the floor.

He tried to shake his head. He tried to move. But he was in too much pain to be able to do either. Michele could only stare at Solomon, watching his precious expression turn sad as he saw his father bleeding on the ground.

Yet it was too late.

The red light, the same one that had hit Michele, was now flickering towards Solomon, moving around his body until one dot settled on his forehead.

‘No, bud, no,’ Michele spoke fervently, yet the words were mere whispers. His eyes watered, his mind rebelling at what he was seeing. He felt the helplessness to his core, the way he could only watch his son but unable to warn him—protect him.

He was his father, damn it. And yet, the most he could do was crawl one more inch, bleed one more drop—all in an attempt to save him.

But it wasn’t enough.

‘Daddy,’ Solomon called out that sweet word, taking one step forward before the dot became one hole and he fell.

‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

The sound was wrenched from him, erupting in the air as he witnessed the life go out of Solomon’s eyes, his body unmoving on the ground.

It happened in a split of a second.

A second in which his entire world ended.

‘Kill him,’ the man ordered, giving Michele an indifferent look before striding out of the apartment. Yet it was in that moment that his features were forever ingrained in Michele’s mind.

There was enemy, and there was foe. There was death and there was inferno. There was a promise, and there was a vow. For Michele, unconsciously, it was all the latter.

One last shot, and Michele’s eyes fluttered closed.

The men were out of the building by the time Andreas made it to the apartment, finding a dead Solomon and a Michele that wasn’t far behind.

Tears, anguish and a vow of vengeance.

Andreas did everything in his power to ensure that his friend survived.

He didn’t.

That night Michele died a second time.

And yet again, he was still alive.

But the world… The world would never be the same.

The memories were raw and painful. But now, more than ever, he needed that pain more than he needed air to breathe. Deep down he could feel himself at the edge of the precipice, staring into the abyss that was his fate, ready to make the final choice.

Before, he’d had no issue imagining the jump. He’d draped himself in steel so the fall would come quicker—more efficient, lethal. Now, there was a voice in his ear that almost made his head turn. One that whispered and beckoned and made him hesitate as he took the last step towards the unyielding void.

Michele knew what needed to be done and had planned all the steps he was going to take towards his ultimate direction.

Then why was he faltering? Why was he…weakening?

The answer was immediate, as was the uneven beat of his heart.

There was only one person guilty of the confusion in his mind and heart. One person who made him lose every bit of sense he had left.

He was weakening.

And that was unacceptable.

‘I miss you bud,’ he whispered, though only the echo of the crypt answered him back.

He was used to it. It had been the same for years now. Yet somehow… Somehow this year was worse.

‘I wish you were here. I wish you were still alive. Then…’ he choked on his words, his throat clogging with emotion.

A tear made its way down his cheek. The first in too long.

Michele never cried.

Yet this time… This time he’d known it was about to get worse—perhaps the worst it had ever been.

‘Then I would be different too. I could…’ he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. To utter it out loud was to turn it into reality. It was admitting to himself that he still had…desires—that he still had dreams. And Michele still lived under the assumption that he was entirely in control—that he was fine as he was, locked away from the world. Living in spite of the world.

‘I did the unthinkable, bud,’ Michele whispered, his hand tightening over the bottle of bourbon. Taking another sip of alcohol, he forced himself to speak—to confess his greatest faults. His son deserved to know what a piece of shit his father was.

‘I killed my own child,’ he said the words out loud for the first time. ‘Or, I should say, I killed another child.’ A wry smile pulled at his lips, though his eyes were unsmiling.

It was a few more copious swigs of alcohol later that he could finally release the words from his mouth—release them from his mind.

‘I couldn’t let that baby be born, bud,’ he shook his head. ‘I couldn’t do it,’ he whispered. ‘Not when it would mean the end of everything.’

Another sip and he relished the burn. After all, pain was what he deserved.

‘I killed him and never looked back. And the worst thing? I would do it again.’

He didn’t share the fact that it killed his own soul to do so. That his pet was not the only one plagued by nightmares. When his pet had told him about her nightmares it had been like stabbing his heart with a poisoned dagger, for it had targeted his insecurities and his pain.

For as long as he lived, he would hold that one regret alive in his memory.

But to imagine otherwise…

To think of her giving birth, of his child out in the world—a weakness out in the world? That was out of the question.

Countless times already he’d dreamed about the what-ifs—of that alternate reality in which she did continue with her pregnancy. In which she did give birth to his child. In which they…were a family.

He hurt even more at picturing that for he knew if he opened his heart, he would end up back in the past again—back to bleeding instead of being.

And so he’d closed it.

Maybe his pet was appealing to him, in an odd way that nothing else was. But she’d never claim his feelings. She’d never claim his control and the purpose that ruled his very being.

Yet he also recognized the weakness in him—the fact that she could become more if he allowed her. And if there was a child in the equation, it would be even worse—infinitely worse.

He saw that alternative, just as he saw the end result.

His enemies would catch up with him—again. And if they ever laid a hand on his family… Michele didn’t think he could withstand that type of pain.

His heart had died with his son, though his body had kept on living.

But if he let himself feel… If he let himself create a family with his Zia, and that was taken away from him, he knew his body wouldn’t survive either.

This time, he would die for good.

And he couldn’t allow that. Not while his promise to his son was still foremost in his mind. Not when his guilt was suffocating him more and more.

‘I know you must be disappointed in me, bud,’ he pursed his lips, his eyes fixated on the darkness of the crypt. ‘But I promised you justice. I will give you justice. And this is the only way I can do it.’

Popping a cigarette in his mouth, he lit it up, deeply inhaling and enjoying the combo of alcohol and nicotine as it hit his system.

‘I can only do it like this,’ he confirmed.

This meant keeping himself closed—an island among continents. It meant forging his path ahead disregarding any and every potential casualty.

It meant hell. And there was no joy to be had in hell.

He could only fulfill his revenge if he kept his pain onto himself, honing it and turning it into a deadly weapon. He could only go forward because he had nothing left to lose.

The moment he did…

The moment he found something more important was the moment he failed.

And he wasn’t about to do that.

He’d own his pet and he would take care of her like his most prized possession. He would woo her until he’d gain her love once more—for that was the only resource that could energize him like no other. And he would feed off her adoration, as he’d done from the beginning.

All until he could exorcize her from his body and his mind. Until he numbed himself to her and everything she made him feel.

She would be his. But she would never be more.

She would only ever be his pet.

And for that, he must steel himself against all further temptation.

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