"Loving you had consequences, consequences I didn't even know existed until I met you."
Aria DeLuca, a powerful, confident young woman, is the daughter of the wealthiest man in Italy. When her dad told her she was going to spend a month in Dubai, s...
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(Trigger warning: mentions of blood, guns & gory)
My parents just left the house, leaving me and my younger brother, Malik, home alone with the maids and servants. He's only a year younger than me, which is nice because I have someone to play with. Aaliyah is only two and is very obviously too young and oblivious to play with us. I think she has a better time chewing on her toys than her brother's presence. Me and Malik like to play with each other pretty roughly—brotherly love, of course—but we wouldn't play with her like that.
While we are on the topic of Aaliyah, my parents have just taken her out to go to the Dubai Fountain, a choreographed fountain system, an awestruck spectacle in downtown Dubai. Me and my brother have been many times before, which is why we aren't going this time around. She's still slightly too young to remember what actually happens (not like it's anything majorly worth remembering), but my parents made it a tradition to take us until we had enough of it.
Suddenly, I was on the floor, my brother pinning my arms down with knees. "Distracted, brother?" He pants, but the corners of his mouth tug into a smirk, thinking he's finally beaten me. Classic Malik. I shook my head, "Why would you think that?" I pant, and with that, I flip him onto his back, replacing his old position. A low chuckle escapes my throat as I watch his facial expression turn from smug to stunned. The ivory-padded rug underneath us protected his head from slamming against the marble floor. Thank God. Just because we were playing fighting doesn't mean I actually wanted him to get injured.
Malik surprises me again by managing to slip out from underneath me. Sneaky boy, I taught him well. Promptly, I got up off the floor and ran out of our bedroom in hopes of searching for my brother. As a family, we all moved to a much larger house on the wealthier side of Dubai once my mother's business hit a breakthrough. I am yet to explore the house, but this is the perfect opportunity to have a quick sneak around.
Jiggling the door handle, the door creaks open, revealing an oversized bathroom, one certainly big enough to be my bedroom. I shook my head, clearing the thoughts, and shut the door. Malik definitely wouldn't hide in there; he knows how easy it is to get caught in there from previous experiences. Three, four more rooms, and I still can't find him, my frustration growing by the minute. Where the hell was he? Five, six more, and I grew bored.
Boredom is written all over me; my pace is slow, strutting since I can't find my brother, my head thrown back, looking at the ceiling above me. "Mal!" I yell out. How can a seven-year-old hide for this long and not get bored? Even I can't do that, and I'm a year older than him! Huffing out a sigh, I try another door, praying to God that he is hiding somewhere in this room, waiting to pounce on me. When I open the door, I'm met with something completely unexpected. The walls were lined with intricate weapons, ranging from different sizes and kinds, running from the middle of the wall to the very top. I was mesmerised, to say the least.
