Guilty Pleasures

59

WARNING ⚠️ THIS CHAPTER HAS NOT BEEN PROOF READ

"So it's true: when all is said and done, grief is the price of e pay for love."

She had entered the house with her feet being quick on its sole; a stark contradiction from earlier, where her steps had been full of hesitation, yet with the hopes to outrun her husband she allowed herself to pick up speed, darting past the lounge area and hurrying up the dark wooden staircase to her left. She had callously attempted to ignore the shouts of her husband, and in doing so she allowed for his sound to overshadow the sob that seemed to escape the confides of  her lips that trembled under her relenting grip.

"Pallavi!" He thundered from behind her, racing up the steps, whilst simultaneously grabbing for the lifeless limb that moved rather abruptly with her rapid movements away from him.

His fingers had found route to success however and with a definitive tug his trial bore fruit, for her steps had halted and her eyes seemed to scurry away from his. The complete opposite reaction to what he was displaying.

"Listen to me." He began, his eyes frantic and his chest heaving. He wasn't used to asking, and so the words that left the Don's mouth sounded more like an order to one of his men than request to his wife. His eyes seemed to tense when she fought against his grip, and if he hadn't caught the silhouette of his mother standing loosely in the light he would not have given into the defeat.

He attempted to take a step forward, but the White Queen was quick to take her opening; and with a sharp turn on her feet, she was quick to saunter past like a breeze that had him doubting her very presence to begin with.

His hand came up to rest against the balcony, his eyes closing momentarily as his mother walked past him, a curse leaving her lips.

Raghav found his head turn at the words, a cynical laugh following soon after as he dropped against the steps. His fate was no different to that of his wife's, both moulded in his own making.

He wondered if this was a psychological point; that the reason he destroyed her life; her family...was because it was born from his own jealous of strangers made her family. Whilst his made him a stranger.

His head fell into his hands with the thoughts, yet, the Don's hands that were covered in far more dirt and blood alias to Mother Nature, finally shook.

They trembled as though he was sans composure, his breaths laboured at the sight of his wife's eyes haunting him in the depths of his mind: for he may have been a killer, but the blood of her on his hands was too much to bare.

He could feel a distant gaze attached to his form, and from the way it scorned him, he knew that his sister was currently burning in the same contempt that his mother and wife were.

His back remained turned as he willed his heart to still and by the time Keerti's hand rested against his shoulder, his facade had been cemented once more.

He turned to her with a gaze so cold that he saw his sister shiver, and the words she had seemingly wished to direct, evaporated into thin air. He waited patiently in her presence, challenging her to take a stance against him, she was born with the same blood, the alpha running through her yet the difference was she still had a hold on her humanity, she still had her heart beating against her chest whilst his laid on the floor pathetically in front of her and his mother.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets in attempts to conceal the enclosed fists that were now bawled. He craved blood.

And with a quick succession of steps he was out to get some.