Leaders and Lavender

Chapter Thirty-Four

Bellamy's POV

I fled to the bedroom. Alive. It can't be possible; he was shot in the head. Body doubles is like FBI shit why would he need one.

Maybe a stupid question considering Atticus "killed him". Instead of going into the bedroom we shared I went to my old bedroom and into my pile of stuffies, finding a small bear with a red bow.

Othello gave me this. I probably shouldn't have kept it but despite the bad parts I still saw some good in him. I held the teddy bear to my chest tightly.

A bit too tightly as I felt something hard press against me. Gently turning the bear over, I noticed a red zip down his back which wasn't there before. Cautiously I unzipped him trying not to hurt my stuffie to find a small box inside.

The box was pink and had my name engraved in the wood. I opened it up to find a necklace with a cloud pendant and a rolled-up letter.

It can't be from him. It can't be. How would he even get in here anyway?

The letter read

Bellamy

I'm sorry I had to lie and couldn't tell you it wasn't actually me who was shot. I didn't want you going back to their house, but I knew if I was there I would die, and you would be stuck in that house for the rest of your life. I was devasted when my friend at the restaurant told me you had rang Vierra, I know you can't trust anyone in the mafia, so I get it. However, I didn't lie to you about my family being killed by his parents and my wife being killed by him. I never learnt to hide my feelings before their death my parents told me it was important to be open about how we feel because in our line of work if you let your emotions take over you without expressing them properly you act recklessly. (Just look at Atticus).

But Belle you make me want to act recklessly, you make my heart burn with a passion I haven't felt since my wife. Which is why I need to get you out of this world. I can't let what happened to her happen to you. You may think you know what Atticus is like, but you don't know the half off it. Yes I killed his brother, I have done some wrong things.

But he Belle.....

Is a monster.

I crumpled up the letter and stuffed it back inside the bear along with the box and necklace. Placing it on the mountain of others. I rushed to our room in case Atticus was coming back. I hid under the covers seeking comfort in his smell. Only seconds after the door opened and my love climbed into bed with me wrapping his arms round my waist.

"You have nothing to be afraid off Daddy will keep you safe."

I stayed silent. The reality hitting me that everything I feared was true. Is he a bad man? Can my love for him be naïve? I'm not sure why I kept the letter a secret I felt somewhat guilty for feeling sorry for Othello and I know that Atticus will never understand that.

"You okay bunny?" He whispered brushing back the hair that was covering my face under the duvet.

"Is he really alive?" I muttered out.

"Not for much longer".

The way he said it. So calm. Relaxed. No hint of guilt that he killed a body double and that he was going to kill again. My mind can't understand how loving he is with me and how utterly animalistic he can be with others. I ponder ideas of his love fading for me and the idea that he could be like that with me one day.

Othello said I don't know the half of it, I want to know the rest. Everything.

"What happened between you two?"

There was silence before a long sigh. "Our families hated each other, when he lost his family he took out his hurt on my brother"

I sat up due to the very short and half arsed story he had given me.

"Atticus I feel like there is so much you are not telling me... What about a fire?"

"Who told you about a fire?" He teeth gritted and jaw locked his eyes almost blackened more then they usually did.

"Othello did when he took me, is it true? Did you set his house on fire?" Mu voice wavered as I felt myself start to crumble the man who I cared for so dearly being slowly pulled away from me.

"Yes I did"

That was all I heard; a high pitch ringing was all I could hear as he continued to speak. He did it. There is no excuse, killing Othello's wife, after he lost all his family from the hand of my love's parents. I lunged up and hurried out the door. Down the marble corridors I once loved now my nostrils felt like they were filled with smoke as I envisioned the horrible death Othello's poor wife went through. My small steps became long strides down the stairs. I had no idea where I was going just gone. I need to escape.

"Bellamy don't, please listen to me" He shouted after me racing with his longer and much faster legs. Eventually catching up to me. A cold grip now on my waist no longer feeling familiar. As my body went on auto pilot I thrashed and scratched and screamed to get away.

"Please don't kill me" I whimpered, the energy now seeping from my frail bones after what felt like hours.

"How could you say such a thing?" He whispered.

"You killed his wife; how could I ever believe you are good?"

"Because I didn't know she was in the house!" He gasped out like a temple relieving a ghost that had been held for centuries. With that he dropped to his knees. Gripping now at my legs as he wept beneath me.

I had never seen this side of him. It was oddly sweet but really not in the right context. He breathed differently almost as if he had never expressed that before.

His voice now weak and melancholy "Vierra was dating a young man, he was her first love. Her only love really. Then one day she found out he was part of the Winchester's gang. He was to spy on this family, on her and report back. She was heartbroken. So on the night of the annual Winchester Ball when everyone that they know and loved was at a party across town, I set the house on fire. Not to kill anyone but to teach them a lesson." He paused barely able to speak the rest. "What I did not know what his Wife had went home with a headache. She was sleeping in her bed when it happened."

I fell to my knees almost simultaneously with his words. Poor Othello, Poor Vierra and although not completely morally correct, Poor Atticus. I could see the hurt in his eyes, nearly as strong as I had seen them in Othello's.

Atticus is not a good man.

But he is not a bad one either.