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“Natalia,” he pleaded, attempting to squeeze my hand. He was so weak, and I knew my time with my brother was running out. “Please.”
“I promise,” I whispered. My heart was breaking. A fissure split right down the middle. I didn't know how I was going to survive this.
“I love you, Nat,” he whispered, tears running down his face. For the first time in my life, I saw my brother cry. The hurt in his deep brown eyes told me that he wasn’t crying for himself, though. He was crying for me. A silent apology stretching between us as he was leaving me all alone in this world.
“I love you, Dmitri,” I whisper as I study his face. He’s tired, and I know he’s just hanging on for me. “Thank you for always being there for me and being my best friend. You don’t have to suffer for me. I will be okay…” My ears can't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I'm not ready to let go, but I will for him. I will be strong for him, and I will get revenge for him.
I’m not sure if he heard me or not, because he passed out just as some of my father’s guys showed up to take him to the house. I don’t even remember getting my car to the house, but I’m pretty sure one of our security guys put me in the passenger side and drove me the remainder of the drive.
Shaking my head, I push the images out of my mind. I turn on the television to give myself some background noise while I glance around the room. It won’t be long before my father has his guys pack up Dmitri’s room, and I make a mental note to grab the things I want first thing in the morning.
My eyes are painfully dry, void of all the tears that have already fallen. There are no more left to cry. The pain throbbing in my head is a silent reminder that grief has entirely consumed me. As I lay here now, it doesn’t take long for sleep to find me between the pure exhaustion of today’s events and the comfort of Dmitri’s bed.
The next morning, I have to drag myself out of my brother’s bed. I pad down the hall to my bedroom, thankful that no one is stirring about this early. Walking into my bathroom, I turn on the shower to its coldest setting and then undress. The temperature of the water matching the ice that has now encased my heart as I plead for the torrent to wake me up from this nightmare. But, it doesn’t and the physical pain I’m feeling in my chest reminds me of the open wound I may as well have where my heart resides.
I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall. All I want to do is stay in bed all day and mourn the loss of my brother. My father, however, will not let that slide.
After finally washing my hair and rinsing away the soap, I shut the water off and grab my towel. As soon as my body is dry, I go to my closet and pull out a pair of ripped skinny jeans and my favorite sweater. I decide to skip drying my hair and go back to Dmitri’s room with a box I found in my closet to retrieve the things I want to keep. The scent of him assaults my senses as soon as I open the door and that fissure deepens. Throwing in some of his favorite shirts, I grab a few other trinkets and the picture frames that held some of my favorite memories. Yeah, I also have some of them in my room, but I don’t want them to be thrown away.
One picture in particular catches my eye. I sit down on the bed as I brush my thumb over it. It’s a picture of Dmitri, Declan, and I sitting on a rock down by the lake eating pizza. I let out a shaky breath as I think back to that day. It was the first day of summer break. Declan and I had convinced Dmitri to come to the lake with us.
It was like pulling teeth to get the two of them to take a picture, but now I’m grateful for the memory. Dmitri is gone, and shortly after this photo was taken, Declan’s family and mine had a fallout. I lost my best friend that day. It’s been two years since I’ve seen Declan, but the hole his absence has left has yet to heal. I don’t know what’s worse, grieving someone who died and will never come back, or grieving the loss of someone who’s alive.
Do I have the answer now? The pain I felt the day I lost Declan was none I’d ever experienced. But now, as I sit on the bed of my dead brother, I have to wonder if perhaps that pain was nothing at all in comparison.
Once I have everything I want, I grab my phone off the nightstand and throw his half used bottle of cologne in my box as well. I’ll never use it, but I know I’m going to need something to help get me through the hard days. I look around, making sure that no one is in the hall, and I slowly make my way back to my room.
Sliding the box into the back of my closet, I look down at the last remnants of my brother and give a sad smile. Exiting the closet, I walk over to my bed and grab my dead phone. News about Dmitri will more than likely have reached all my friends, and I know it will be blowing up. I sigh and plug my phone in, waiting for it to turn on. Notification upon notification begins to pop up across the screen. There are several apologies and messages about how he will be missed, if only they knew.
Grabbing an overnight bag, I stuff a change of clothes and a few essentials inside. Walking out of my bedroom and down the stairs, I slip out the door and into the garage. Tearing my eyes away from Dmitri’s empty parking spot, I slide into my car and peel out of the garage.
Driving down the familiar roads, I turn the volume up as loud as it can go. I know that there's no chance anyone will follow me, but I make sure to take the long way around anyway. Once I make it to the abandoned parking lot, I put the car in park and grab my bag before rushing down to the safe house.
Chapter six
Declan
Eighteen Years Old
“Well, Declan,” my father says as he sits down at the dining room table for breakfast. “It seems we have found ourselves at an advantage this morning.”
“Oh, yeah?” I raise an eyebrow as I put some bacon on my plate. “How so?” I ask, lifting a piece of bacon to my mouth.
“Dmitri Belov was murdered yesterday morning,” he replies after taking a sip of his coffee. My heart drops to the floor, and I fight to keep myself composed. Before our families were rivals, Dmitri was like a big brother to me.
Brother. Natalia. I bet Natalia is out of her mind.
Making a mental note to get a message out to her somehow, I turn my attention back to my father. Schooling my features so that he cannot tell how deeply that statement just impacted me. “Do they know who did it?”
“No, and I bet they won’t find out either,” my father smirks and raises his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Word is that whoever did it was very thorough, so they have nothing to go on."
“Father,” I state, attempting to hide the irritation in my voice. “What did you do?”
“Declan, until you are head of this family, you have no right to question my decisions. But, if you must know, I did not murder him.” Something about the way he gave up that information so willingly, makes me uneasy.
The feud between the Belov and O’Connor families really took a toll on my father. At first he was saddened as Ivan was one of his closest friends. After some time went by the sadness turned into anger, and now it’s festered into pure hatred.
Dealing with my father's wrath after the fallout with the Belov family was difficult. It's just the two of us, so his only outlet was me. My mother died when I was ten and took with her any ounce of compassion my father possessed. As soon as I turned sixteen, he had me dealing with the interrogation tactics. If he didn’t approve of my methods, he took his anger out on me. I spent many nights patching up wounds, icing sprained and broken limbs.
