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“Where did you learn how to do this?” I ask, aware that I’ve never actually bothered to find out despite the years we’ve lived under the same roof.
“I had a mentor in Calcutta. He died not long before your father collected me,” she replies softly, continuing with her task.
“I see. Well, I’m sure he would be as impressed by your skills as I am if he were still alive to see them.”
Five flicks her gaze at me, her skin creasing between her brows as she frowns. I’m aware that compliments from me are few and far between. It’s not in my nature to be appreciative of anyone, let alone a Number.
I demand. I take. I fuck. I ruin. I hurt. I heal.
And then I do it all over again because I’m a sick fuck like that.
As much as it pains me to admit, Leon was right about my intentions that night. I didn’t want to bring Zero back solely because I cared enough to want her to live for my own selfish reasons. I wanted to bring her back because doing so would’ve been like a shot of heroin straight to my fucked-up heart. The high would’ve been like nothing else. Once upon a time Leon had referred to it as myGod complex. I remember the moment well. I’d done something I shouldn’t and he’d stepped in and taken a beating from our father because of it. Always taking a beating, always protecting us from ourselves. Being estranged from him is causing huge motherfucking problems. Not to mention that I miss the bastard.
It’s allherfault.
Zero.
Zero with her fiery hair and courageous soul.
Zero with her scars that reflect my own.
Zero with her ghost eyes that I swear can see directly into both Heaven and Hell.
She’s been playing on repeat in my mind; I’ve spent the last week thinking about her, about those eyes. I want to ask her if she saw Heaven when she died, whether it actually fucking exists because I sure as fuck know Hell exists. I spent the better part of my childhood living in it.
A lesser person wouldn’t have survived such an experience. A lesser person would’ve ended up a dribbling, drooling shell of a human being after going through what me and my brothers have been through.
Only I’mnota lesser person. I’m not weak.
Instead of rejecting the darkness our father surrounded us in, I accepted it. I opened my arms and embraced it. You see, Leon is wrong when he says I’ve got a God complex, because God is good, right? I’m not good. I pretend that I am whilst knowing that I’m not. Jakub might be the heir to the Brov throne, Leon might be fucking Judas now, but me? I’m my father’s son.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Master?” Five asks me, drawing me out of my thoughts and back in the room.
I bark out a laugh and stride across the room, picking up a seven-inch Wharncliffe knife, turning it over in my hand. “I doubt it.”
“Master?” she queries, stepping into my peripheral vision.
I glance down at her, paying more attention to what she’s wearing now than I have the whole time we’ve been together. She’s covered up today with her mid-thigh leather skirt and matching waistcoat. If any of the other Numbers, aside from Thirteen, dared to cover their bodies as much as Five has now they’d be sent to me in the dungeons for reformation. With Five, it’s a little different. She has a somewhat elevated position, and whilst she performs in The Menagerie regularly, she doesn’t fuck the clients. Well, that’s not strictly true, she fucks one particular client who has claimed his right to her with a shit load of money and a steady supply of jewels from his diamond caves in South Africa. The Mole attends Ardelby Castle once a year on the night of The Brònach Masquerade Ball. Five will be reunited with him soon enough. I’ve no idea if she’s looking forward to it or not and honestly, I don’t give a shit besides her being fit enough to be able to fulfil her duties after he’s gone. We’ve never had a problem in that respect, like I said, he’s into vanilla sex with an exotic girl. I don’t blame him, Five is uniquely stunning. Fortunately for her, the Numbers are off the menu for myself and my brothers, and vanilla really isn’t our thing. Nor ismaking love.
That term is a foreign concept, and has never factored into our day to day lives, let alone our fantasies. Don’t get me wrong, I’m down for giving all types of pleasure and am excellent at it, but there are never any feelings of love when I’m fucking a woman. More often than not, I’m imagining all the ways I can hurt them, and all the hours it will take to heal those wounds just so I can do it over again.
I’m incapable of love. More to the point, completely fucking averse to it.
I thought we all were, but when Leon had fallen to his knees at Zero’s side, I’d seen a man broken by grief and destroyed by his actions. Thoseemotions, thosefeelings, they only happen when there is empathy, regret, kindness, fuckinglove.
He’s been infected, and somehow we need to purge him of the disease.
“Tell me, Five,” I say suddenly, cutting through the silence with my voice. “What is it about the human heart that makes a man like my brother want to destroy all that we’ve built here for one woman?”
I’m curious to know her opinion. I can’t talk to Thirteen, given she’s locked herself away with Leon and Zero, and I sure as fuck can’t talk to Jakub who’s so inside his own head right now that he can’t even hold a conversation, much less talk about what happened.
“You believe Leon has turned his back on you?” she questions.
I frown, staring into her amber eyes that glow as brightly as any jewel I’ve ever seen. “I didn’t say that.”
“But isn’t that what you meant?” she asks.
“Maybe,” I shrug.
