The Red kiss - A Dark Mafia Romance

chapter five

MAYA'S POV (MAYA:19, KIRILL: 26)
TOKYO, JAPAN
Eleven hours and thirty minutes, a span that seemed both fleeting and eternal. It was the temporal bridge between worlds as I embarked on a journey that stretched from the sun-kissed shores of San Diego to the vibrant heart of Tokyo. The passage of time was marked not only by the ticking of the clock but by the anticipation that simmered within me, an anxious energy that pulsed like an electric current through my veins, which was terrifying me.

Uncle Matsumoto had woven a tapestry of arrangements to ease my transition. He arranged everything to perfection for my family and I to be comfortable in foreign land. Rooms stood ready, each one a promise of solace which I would never feel. The neighbouring rooms were reserved for the familiar souls that shared my blood – my parents and Leo who aren’t here anymore. As if sensing my unease, the ocean chose that moment to gift me a wave of nausea, a reminder of the vastness that lay between what was and what would be.

Amidst tearful farewells to my family, Jin emerged as my steadfast guide. He whisked me away with gentle urgency, leading me to a waiting private jet of uncle Matsumoto. The hours that followed blurred into a haze; consciousness itself seemed to ebb and flow like the tides beyond the aircraft's windows. The view unfolded, a breath-taking panorama of earth and sky, a canvas of dreams and uncertainties which neither one of my family will be with me. Jin, understanding the sanctuary of silence, offered no words. His concerned glances held a depth I dared not probe; perhaps he feared the fragility of my spirit, a dormant volcano of emotion, understandable fear of offering comfort to me if they burst? Again it’s totally understandable and I don’t complain.
After reaching Tokyo no one asked me if I was fine. And I don’t know if I would have answered them in a polite lady like way or channelled my anger upon them.
“Yakuza is closely looking  into the matter and will inform you about everything behind your family’s death,” stated someone who introduced himself as the right-hand man of uncle and mentioned that I could call him Kenji before guiding me to a room to rest.
In those fleeting hours of suspended reality, Kenji's words echoed in my mind like a mantra of hope. Information gathered, a promise to illuminate the shadows that enshrouded my family’s murder. And so, I found myself in this suspended state of wakefulness, sixteen hours adrift in the realm of consciousness without the anchor of slumber. Fatigue had yet to catch up, its grasp stymied by the fire that raged within my chest. A relentless pain, a furious ache that refused to be ignored, it coursed through me like a relentless tempest, keeping me in perpetual motion.

There was a strange dichotomy within me, a dichotomy that pulled my heart in opposing directions. Memories, precious and poignant, surfaced like rare pearls. I would find myself smiling, caught in the beauty of moments I had shared with my family. But too soon, those cherished recollections would darken, consumed by the cruel flames that had snatched them away. The symphony of laughter would morph into a cacophony of screams, the pleas for help from beloved voices now forever silenced.

And so, I sat there, caught between the tides of time and the currents of my emotions, adrift in a sea of memories both cherished and cursed. Each moment held its own gravity, its own weight, and I, a mere passenger on this turbulent journey, clung to the fragments of my past even as I hurtled toward an uncertain future in which I wished to see blood of my family’s killers on my hands.

TWO YEARS LATER
KIRILL'S POV (KIRILL:28 MAYA: 21)
"I despise that woman, her presence in my home is utterly intolerable," I muttered through gritted teeth, my frustration palpable in my office sanctuary.

"Then why did you even get married?" my sister's voice crackled with annoyance through the phone line. She was rightfully upset that I had secretly wedded the day prior, a clandestine event she wasn’t invited to. Yet, truth be told, it wasn't a genuine wedding by any stretch — the vows were hollow, and the documents mere facades.

"That 'wedding' was nothing more than a facade, Katrina, and until I ascertain how to remove Laura from the picture, there's no way I'm welcoming you into this chaos," I cautioned, my tone resolute. I had caught wind that she'd managed to acquire Laura's contact details and had begun exchanging messages. I couldn't fathom allowing Laura's influence to seep into my sister's life. She needed to be kept at a safe distance, sheltered from the perilous realm I inhabited.

"But..." she attempted to interject, and before she could continue, I abruptly ended the call, flinging my phone across the room in a burst of frustration. The device met the wall with a sharp crack before meeting the floor in shattered pieces.
“Damn it,” I muttered, massaging my tired eyes. The clock showed an unforgiving 2:00 A.M., and the guards had finally retreated to their quarters for some much-needed sleep. The last thing I wanted was to stir them from their slumber; my anger issues were a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. The wedding preparations had consumed them entirely, a whirlwind of security measures and meticulous arrangements. Their exhaustion was well-earned.

Anton, my right-hand man, was miles away in Italy, untangling the web of weapon shipments that the Sicilian crime family had demanded. Normally, I’d be the one on the frontlines, overseeing the operations first-hand. But the timing was off – the recent wedding had bound us, the cartel’s princess and me, in a tangled dance of obligation. Leaving her alone now, in the aftermath of our nuptials, would cast shadows of doubt in her father’s mind. Shadows I had no intention of wrestling with just yet.

“Looks like you’re quite overwhelmed,” Laura purred softly, her voice dripping with a seductive tone as she leaned in near my ear. My clenched fist betrayed my anger; her unwelcome presence in my office was exhausting.

“How many times do I need to remind you not to step foot in here?” My words seethed through gritted teeth as frustration surged within me. With a turn of my head, I met her gaze, my expression radiating boredom, signalling that her revealing pink baby doll dress held no allure for me.

“Out,” I commanded, dismissing her with a curt back turned towards her. I sought solace in the stars outside, reminiscing about the comforting warmth of home that had been displaced since her arrival. Perhaps a visit to my parents was overdue—

A sharp expletive slipped from my lips as a prick on my neck alarmed me. Swinging around, my hand found its way around Laura’s throat, pinning her to the nearest wall. My fingers blocked her air, my glare piercing her. I yanked the syringe from my neck, its contents now partially depleted, and flung it aside.
Blayd!
“What the hell was that?” My growl cut through the tension as my vision blurred. Through the haze of white spots, I discerned her smirk, even as she struggled to breathe. Her desperate clawing at my hand slowly ceased, replaced by a deep breath. Then, realization struck—my limbs were growing weak, and my body crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

As darkness closed in, the last image I perceived was the arrival of the least likely person I expected to see, stepping into my now treacherous office.