crave | 16+

XXIX

JOSIE
Present day

TEARS BLUR MY EYES as Aaron forces me back into his BMW. What the hell was that? I've seen Elijah's careless mask, I've seen the way he speaks to business opponents, how he can shut off his emotions, but I've always been able to see a glimpse of them whenever our eyes meet. But what I saw in there? In front of those men? That wasn't the Elijah I know.

Aaron walks around the trunk, and revives the engine the second his foot meets the gas pedal. He takes off from the curb without telling me anything, and hot tears stream down my face as I try to make sense of it all. Of the tattoo on his chest. The emotionless man. The bruises. The submissiveness to Cain.

"What's Bratva?" I ask Aaron, the foreign word coming off heavy on my tongue. I catch Aaron clenching his jaw, grinding his molars together.

"No one is worth what he's done. No one," Aaron says, and I feel my heart clench, a tight knot forming in my stomach along with my throat.

"Aaron what's Bratva what is Omertà? What the hell happened in there, what did he do, who is Cain–"

My rambling is cut short by Aaron colliding his fist into the steering wheel, causing a honk to sound out. I stare at him dumbfounded, at his loss of control. Aaron is an ex-marine, and though he must suffer from PTSD, he's never lost control. Not like this. He knows what it costs to let one's control slip through your finger like this, like his is right now.

I catch his eyeline changing a look to the rearview mirror, before he makes a turn to the right and parks at a curb. His breathing is heavy, and his eyes are bloodshot. The last person I saw, resembling what Aaron looks like now, kidnapped me. Regret settles as a pit in my stomach, when I see how hurt he looks, how tired he looks. If I felt like shit when Elijah broke stuff off with us, then this feeling is not describable.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, in a voice so small I feel self-hate creep up my spine like an unwelcome guest at a party, like Eris sneaking into Peleus' and Thetis' wedding, causing havoc. That's what I did– do. I sneaked into their lives, their lives that were functioning well and ruined everything. I ruined Zakaria by not being able to love him, I ruined Elijah by having him join some fucking cult, God know's why, I ruined a pair of brothers relationship.

Maddox and I never had the problem of sharing lovers, but I know we never did anything to cross one another. I steal a look toward Aaron and see him holding his head in his hands, his breathing slightly calmer, but still rigid like a rabid dog. I catch him digging his fingers into his forehead, slowly as his fingers inch forward to grab his hair. He tightens his hold around the gold locks, making me grimace.

"How long have you been living in New York, now?" he asks, and my breath hitches as I ready to answer, but he beats me to it; "Close to five years, correct?"

I nod, despite him not being able to see me.

"Five years, and you've never heard of the New York Famila. The Cosa Nostra. The Bratva. The Outfit, the Camorras, the Ndranghetas," he enumerates and I feel myself growing dizzy at all the names, all of them flowing off his tongue as if it were his second language. He raises his head, and locks his eyes with mine. Guilt and remorse embrace me. This is all my fault.

"Zakaria had us all fooled, love," Aaron says in a soft voice, which makes fresh tears spring to my eyes. His eyes soften, and the tenderness pushes the guilt and remorse away and have me almost gasping for air. "He fooled us all. He is sick. Elijah and Malik have known that for a while, but they never knew it was that bad, they never thought he'd go to such lengths...Zakaria contacted half of Elijah's men and convinced them to help him."