The Roses and Hibiscus Chronicles - Coriolanus Snow

The Payback

Indila kissed Coriolanus and laid her head on the pillow. He tossed from side to side, showing signs he wouldn't sleep that night. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. "I'm fine, babe. You're the one freaking out. I'm calmer than ever," she assured him. Though darkness enveloped the room, Indila could picture his expression perfectly—the same one he rarely showed when worried. "Are you sure you don't want to consider a transplant?" he pressed. But that was out of the question. Only hell knew what Coriolanus was capable of doing to secure her a new liver. "Babe, I'm old. It's my time. I just want to make the most of the time I have left with you and the girls." For someone who had vowed never to shed a single tear for her, Coriolanus was visibly shaken by the news. There was a moment of silence, but he didn't return to bed.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," he announced, a habit that was becoming more frequent as he aged. Coriolanus had always been a light sleeper, and now he often found solace in spending nights in the greenhouse, lost in thought. Sometimes, Indila would join him, sitting beside him as he spoke fondly about the roses that had meant so much to him throughout his life. It was endearing, really. Despite his intimidating reputation, to most people, he was just a sweet old man. "I'll come with you," Indila offered, sensing his need for solitude but reluctant to let him go alone.

Coriolanus shook his head gently, his expression softened by the dim moonlight filtering through the window. "No, my dear. I need to be alone tonight. Just for a little while." Indila bit her lip, torn between respecting his wishes and wanting to comfort him. "But I worry about you out there all by yourself," she admitted, her voice tinged with concern. He reached out, taking her hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine, love. I just need some time to clear my head. I'll be back before you know it." Reluctantly, Indila nodded, releasing his hand with a sigh. "Okay. But promise me you'll be careful." Coriolanus offered her a small, reassuring smile before slipping out of bed and making his way to the door. "Always," he promised, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Coriolanus was the sweetest person Indila had ever met. He possessed a sweetness that seemed almost ethereal to Indila. His kindness radiated from him effortlessly, enveloping everyone around him in a warm embrace. From the smallest gestures to the grandest acts of generosity, he made it his mission to ensure the happiness and comfort of those in his presence. As a young man, his smile had the power to melt the hardest of hearts and mend the deepest of wounds. With every curve of his lips, he could bring nations to their knees, such was the enchantment of his expression. His physical allure was undeniable, his features sculpted with care by the hands of the divine. And when he spoke, his voice was like a gentle breeze, soothing and reassuring in its softness. It was no wonder that any young girl who crossed paths with him would find herself ensnared by his charm. Indila was no exception. She couldn't help but be drawn to him, captivated by his presence and the way he made her feel. Yet, in her innocence, she failed to recognize the true nature of her feelings, unaware of the depths of her affection until it was too late.

Coriolanus was the worst human being Indila had ever met. He stood as a grotesque embodiment of human depravity, a vile creature driven solely by his insatiable lust for power. He reveled in the suffering of others, inflicting unimaginable torment upon those unfortunate enough to cross his path. His cruelty knew no bounds, and he took pleasure in wielding his authority as a weapon to crush all who dared to oppose him. Even his own wife, Livia, was not spared from his brutality, subjected to unspeakable horrors at his hands. He showed no remorse, no hint of humanity as he tore apart the very soul of the woman who once loved him. But it was not just those close to him who suffered under his tyranny. He wielded death like a puppeteer, snuffing out the lives of innocents without so much as a second thought. The girl Crassus loved fell victim to his murderous whims, her life extinguished in a moment of unfathomable cruelty. Coriolanus's depravity extended beyond mere violence; he reveled in the suffering of the masses, callously allowing them to starve while he basked in the opulence of his own decadence. And for those who dared to speak out against his atrocities, he meted out a punishment worse than death, silencing dissent with the brutality of a madman. In the eyes of all who truly knew him, Coriolanus was not a man, but a monster, a twisted aberration consumed by his own thirst for power. And as his reign of terror continued unabated, the darkness that consumed him threatened to engulf them all in its suffocating embrace.