Chapter Twenty-Seven.
"I'll kill for you." — Asire Bukhara.
Bukhara Residence
An honest quote to live by listed that; Some people are born good and always fight off the bad. Some people are born bad and become good through great effort. Others are born in light and fall to darkness. And others are born in darkness and cannot see the light.
As—Qadir Bukhara Jr. ; stood repeatedly inflicting wounds onto this man, many would question which category he'd fit into. Many on the outside looking in would chop it up as him being a demon. One born with a ticket straight to hell attached to his baby blanket, gifted upon birth. Considering he was breed with the blood of darkeness.
He grew up surrounded by fire and ash and poison and death. It was the only thing he knew, so of course he was led to follow. He was trained to be the perfect killer. The perfect strategist, the perfect leader. Since a child he slaved away, learning ever more imaginative ways to torture and kill. Ways to be in control, powerful, ruthless. At times he enjoyed it, because he knew of no other life. His fate had been set for him by his very own family. Though, he often tried to work against it.
To other's he was taken over by the dark. To him he was fighting through the darkness and trying his hardest to make it to the light. Which would always happen whenever he was in the presence of his wife.
Citrus Milan Hayes was his light, or at least she used to be.
Qadir looked down at the blood that coated his fist, a mixture of it being his but majority coming from the close to lifeless figure bound up in front of him.
Yet, another had worked against him. Prayed and plotted on his downfall. Acted on it and ultimately lost their life. It was times like this when the darkness took over. When he had no control of the light and became the worst version of himself.
"He's as good as dead son," Qadir Senior cleared his throat. "Go get cleaned up."
Respecting his father's wishes, Qadir made his way out of the basement and up to his quarters. Being careful not to trek any of the mess throughout the home.
He decided to shower in one of the guest bedrooms, as opposed to startling Citrus. He was dotted in blood, and though she knew of his occupation he always tried his hardest to keep the gruesome details amongst his mind.
Once he was all cleansed, clothed, and content he made his way to their bedroom.
He opened the door to find Citrus seated on the bed. She was crouched over placing a pair of heels on, while dressed in a more than revealing fitted dress which made him raise a brow.
"Samison is coming home soon," Qadir announced his presence. "A welcome home party is in the works for him and Xylani asked me to rely to you that she'll love if you helped to put everything together."
Citrus looked over her shoulder, growing bothered at the sight of him. So she scoffed, "Oh really?"
Qadir exhaled, "I understand you're still bent up about your friend, but I did what was best for the both of us Citrus. He was a terrible person. He got what he deserved for taking ya' kindness as a weakness. I'm sick of people using you, so I had ta' make an example of him."
Citrus quickly broke the view between the two, not wanting to hear it. So instead she looked out of their bedroom window, it was rather large and allowed them to view the whole back of the estate. She mentally made a note of the amount of security that lined the yard.
"I pray you don't resent me for it," Qadir continued. "I can't have that tension in our marriage."
"Stop speaking on him please," Her tone took him aback. As it was laced with heinous aggression. "He's in the past, what happened is exactly that and we cannot change it, but it's over now so leave it alone."
