The Reaper Read online

  There was still a set of dangerous codes out there, missing. There was still a nefarious someone who was trying to frame Tristan. There was still a mysterious someone well-versed with computers who was sending her random information. And now, there was also something else she knew she was going to look into, without telling anyone - the disappearance of girls twenty years ago. Regardless of her relationship or dynamic with Tristan, the truth that she had been abducted and returned, that there had been other girls who went missing never to be found again, troubled her. She needed to uncover those buried secrets. And if there was any chance of finding Luna, she would. But she could never, not until she had concrete evidence of something, let him know about it.

  Lost in her head, she didn’t see Maroni coming out of the living room just as she headed towards the main door.

  “Morana.”

  His voice brought her up short. Morana turned to see the man walk towards her, that smile on his face that always sent eerie chills down her spine. She braced herself, her grip tightening on the strap of her bag.

  “Mr. Maroni,” she greeted in a calm, composed voice.

  Maroni stopped just short of her personal space, tilting his head to the side, his dark eyes scrutinizing her. “You know I’ve tried to reach Tristan for years. Last night was the first time I saw him react.”

  Morana stayed silent, letting the man speak and observe her, keeping her face clean of every emotion.

  Maroni smiled. “It's interesting, isn't it? The things I've done to that boy. Twenty years, I tried to break him. The more I tried, the stronger he became." He sighed. Morana felt her blood simmer as she stayed silent. "Torture, murder. He never flinched. I had begun to believe he was the perfect killing machine. Until last night, when I saw it with my own eyes. I believe I have, at last, found his Achilles’ heel. So, thank you for that, Morana.”

  The venom she felt in her heart for the man reached another level. The smile on his face at the thought of bringing down the man she had come to care for made her instincts rage in a way they never had. How a man like Dante could’ve come out from this monster was a wonder. Bottling it all up, Morana smiled softly at Maroni.

  She saw with some satisfaction that his smile faltered, just slightly, under his neat beard.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Maroni,” she spoke quietly, her tone soft. “You assume, with your limited mind women only make two good things - wives and whores. I’m neither. What I am is a woman who has been freed from the shackles men like you had bound me to. What I am is a woman who knows that freedom thanks to two good men who've made me believe again.”

  Maroni opened his mouth to speak but Morana put up her hand, not done, the fire inside her raging now. She leaned forward, staring the man much taller than her down, her voice menacing.

  “I’m not a victim. I’m vengeance,” she ground out. “Mark my words, Mr. Maroni. I am going to make you pay - for every single scar you’ve put on Tristan; for every little hurt you inflicted on Dante; for banishing Amara from her home. And for all the girls who went missing.”

  She saw his eyes widen slightly at the last bit and nodded. “Oh yes. I know you’re involved. I just don’t know how. But when I do, you will pay.”

  “You assume you’ll live that long,” Maroni threatened, all veneer of civility gone from his face.

  Morana chuckled mirthlessly. “You say you’ve never seen Tristan react until last night. Try killing me and then see what you’ll unleash on yourself. Just try it. I fucking dare you.”

  Maroni’s hand came up to her neck at her insolence, hovered mid-air, inches from her skin. Morana watched the hand, then looked back at him, staring him down, unwavering.

  “You have no idea what you’ve just done, little girl,” Maroni whispered, his eyes lethal. Morana should have been terrified. This was the man who made grown men shake in their pants. But she had witnessed eyes with far more death, far more rage than his.

  “I told you not to threaten me,” she stated in an equally quiet voice. “You just did. Now, watch as the dominoes fall.”

  "Respect, little girl," Maroni spat out.

  Morana raised an eyebrow. "Long live the king. The king is dead."

  Without another word, she simply turned on her heels and walked out the main door, into the beautiful, warm sunlight. Adrenaline still coursed through her body, churning in her gut with the poison of seeing that man breathe after everything he had done. She knew in her bones he had a hand in the missing girls, somehow. He wasn’t invincible and she was going to prove it to him.

  The silent figure of Vin standing near one of the pillars outside made her halt. Just as he was when he had escorted her to her room, he was quiet.

  “Are you my escort to Dante’s place?” she asked him, half-expecting him not to respond. He surprised her by saying a simple “yes” in a quiet voice, taking out his dark shades from the pocket of his dark suit and gesturing for her to walk beside him.

  Morana fell into step as they walked west on the property as she observed everything around them. Men she’d from her window still flanked the property. Long stretches of grass lay between the house and the line of trees at the north, segregating the lake and beyond. Towards the west, she could see two different wings, one painted white and the other not painted but simply red-bricked, set almost at two different corners of the property. The white one was huge, set farther back than the red house. It had a flat roof above the third floor and black, wrought-iron railing on its balconies. The red-bricked house was much smaller in comparison, and had a slanting roof on one side above the first floor, with a simple wraparound porch.

  They were headed to the red one.

  “The one on the right is Dante’s,” Vin broke their silent walk, indicating the red-bricked house. Morana was surprised by the fact that A- he offered the information, and B- he called Dante by his first name. Filing that away for later, Morana took the opportunity to get more info.

  “And the white one behind that to the left?” she asked, keeping pace with his brisk steps.

  “That’s the staff building,” Vin informed. “They have apartments inside.”

  Morana nodded, curious. “And the training center?”

  Vin’s step faltered for a split second before he picked it up again, cutting her a glance from behind his shades. Morana kept her face innocent.

  After a long moment, in which she thought he wouldn’t answer, he spoke. “That’s in the opposite direction. I would advise you to keep as far away from there as possible.”

  Noted.

  “Why did you give me the knife yesterday?” Morana asked the question that had been bugging her since she saw him. “Not that I’m not grateful, which I am. But I don’t understand the motives.”

  Shutting her mouth, Morana blinked, surprised at herself. She babbled in her head, sure. All the time. But this was the first time she’d slipped into it outside of her mind. She had to be more careful, much more careful.

  Vin shrugged. And stayed silent.

  Not good enough.

  “Seriously,” she prodded. “I need to know if you’re one of the good guys.”

  Vin cut another glance at her. “None of the guys here are good, miss. But will I put a bullet in your head? Not unless you don’t cross me personally. Who else you cross or don’t doesn’t matter to me or my gun.”

  Okay, that was good enough.

  Morana nodded, glad to have that equation cleared. They arrived at Dante’s place and Vin knocked on the door once sharply. A few seconds later, the door was opened by an older woman with greying hair, a kind, wrinkled face, and Amara’s stunning green eyes. The woman couldn't be anyone but Amara's mother. And the fact that Dante had brought Amara’s mother to his wing as staff told her a lot more about the man.

  Vin nodded at her and Amara’s mother and left without a word. The older woman’s face had split into a large, dimpled smile upon seeing Morana. Surprising the fuck out of her, the woman extended her hands hardened by yea
rs of hard work and took Morana’s, her eyes misting with tears.

  “My baby told me you are her friend,” the woman told her in an accented voice. “She does not have friends, you see. I thank you.”

  The purity of the woman’s heart touched something inside Morana she’d thought dead a long time ago – the proof of a parent’s universal love. Squeezing back the woman’s hands with all the emotions rumbling in her, Morana spoke softly, “Your daughter is the kindest, most generous spirit I have ever known. She’s been a true and strong friend to me. And she misses you very much.”

  The woman smiled through her tears and pulled back her hands to wipe them. Opening the door wider, she invited Morana inside.

  “Come in, child,” she said affectionately, locking the door after Morana entered and leading the way inside. The house was warm – its walls, its drapes, its wooden furniture, the browns and reds and creams just wrapping Morana up in its warmth. The smell of eggs and coffee and patchouli somehow mixed intricately together, the open windows bringing in the soft breeze, the sounds of wind chimes tinkling outside. It felt unlike any place she had ever been in. Warm. Cozy. Inviting.

  “Dante told me you would be here,” the older woman continued, guiding Morana towards a cozy, plush brown couch and making her sit. Morana sank into the cushion. “Make yourself at home. Have you had breakfast?”

  Morana shook her head, overwhelmed by all the emotions. The woman smiled. “I will bring some food and coffee for you. You like coffee, yes?”

  Morana nodded. The woman stroked her head softly, in the manner a parent did to their child mindlessly as she had done it countless times before. It was the first time in Morana’s memory. She felt her chin tremble.

  “Do your work, and if you need anything, call me,” the woman turned to leave.

  “What do I call you?” Morana asked abruptly.

  The woman grinned, her face lighting up and wrinkling. “Zia, of course. That is what Dante calls me.”

  Morana smiled as she watched the woman go and exhaled. More shaken by the simple encounter than she’d expected to be, Morana saw the tremble in her hands as she pulled out her laptop and other equipment she needed from her bag. Slowly, as she set up on the table in front of her, Morana folded her legs under her and settled in.

  The older woman came out with a tray of some delicious looking omelet, slices of toasts and fresh fruit and coffee. Morana thanked her as she placed the tray on her lap and exited, shutting the door behind her, giving Morana privacy. Hearing her stomach grumble because she hadn’t eaten properly at dinner, Morana dug into the breakfast with relish. Within minutes, everything was cleaned off the plates and her stomach was happy.

  Placing the tray on the floor beside her, Morana sipped her coffee and first things first, did her shopping online. Usually, it didn’t take her a long time to shop. She knew her style and knew what she liked to wear. But that morning, she took her sweet time picking outfits that went from the scale of “comfortable enough to veg out in” to “uncomfortable but classy as hell”. Zia came in took the tray away with another smile, which Morana returned. Then, Morana ordered herself lingerie. Good, sexy lingerie with a particular someone and his tendency to rip her clothes in mind. Shoes and make-up went next. Then, accessories. By the time everything was done, it was afternoon. She had spent a lot of hours and dollars but damn, it felt good. Putting the delivery on for the next day, she put in the address for the mansion and stood up.

  Stretching, Morana walked towards the window in the living room and looked out at the property from the different vantage. From there, she could see that beast of a mansion uphill in all its glory, and the lawns, and the gates. What she could also see from there was the lake farther downhill and the house on its edge. Though it was still very far, it was closer than the window. She could see it was a brown cottage, see it had one level above the ground but nothing more than that.

  Keeping her eyes on the house, Morana brought her phone out from her pocket and dialed the number of the woman she was now starting to consider her friend. It rang twice before connecting.

  “Morana,” Amara’s low husky voice greeted her. Had Morana not known Amara’s ugly history and seen the terrible scar that slit across her throat and damaged her vocal cords, Morana would’ve said she had a voice made for sex. But anything that brutal could not be associated with something beautiful. Or could it?

  Shaking off her thoughts, Morana replied will all the fuzzy feelings she felt. “I’ve had two wonderful greetings here, thanks to you.”

  Amara chuckled. “That place is a trap. We girls gotta have each other’s backs. So, I just thought you might need all the people on your side you can get.”

  “I appreciate that,” Morana smiled. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Anytime, Morana,” Amara’s soft voice came through. After a second of silence, Amara asked. “So, how’s Tenebrae?”

  Morana huffed a laugh. “The weather has been good so far. The people surprising.”

  “How so?”

  “Well,” Morana planted her ass on the edge of the window, playing with the edge, “as mentioned, your half-sister surprised me. Your mom as well.”

  “I wouldn’t trust Nerea entirely if I were you,” Amara warned about her half-sister, surprising Morana. “I mean she’s always been good to me, loves me a lot. But you’re a stranger and she’s also harsh. I have put in a good word for you but I honestly doubt you’ll see her much. She mostly travels out of the city.”

  Everything inside Morana thawed at Amara’s honesty. “I will. She seemed okay so far but I’ll be careful. Your mother, by the way, told me to call her Zia. Is that her name or does it mean something?”

  Morana could hear Amara’s smile in her voice. “It means aunt.”

  Aunt. A strange woman she'd never met before had asked her to call her aunt simply because she'd been good to her daughter. She’d never had an aunt. Especially one who stroked her hair lovingly and fed her. The knot in her throat tightened.

  “She’s a wonderful woman,” Amara’s voice broke into her emotional musing. “But don’t tell her your secrets because she’ll tell them all to Dante. She loves that man something fierce.”

  “Is that because you love him?” Morana asked, before suddenly realizing maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

  Much to her relief, Amara laughed, her voice strained due to the stress on her cords. “No. Maybe. Who knows? Ma’s always loved Dante, even back when my infatuation with him had been secret. I think she just felt motherly towards him after his mother passed.”

  Morana wanted to ask more about it but didn’t, knowing Amara wouldn’t share anything related to Dante with her. After a slight pause, the other woman finally asked, “How is he?”

  Morana couldn’t help her lips from twitching. “Good. He’s had my back on multiple occasions now with his father.”

  Amara exhaled. “That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”

  Morana hesitated. “Do you know if you can ever return home?”

  “No. At least not until either Maroni leaves the throne or Dante marries elsewhere.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” Morana asked.

  Amara’s voice turned soft. “It used to. Not anymore. He can be with whomever he wishes.”

  Changing the topic, knowing she was digging into old wounds, Morana shifted on the window ledge. “By the way, do you know anything about Tristan and Chiara Mancini?”

  Silence. For a long second. Then Amara sighed. “He was her first extramarital affair after she came to Tenebrae. She chose him because sleeping with him would hurt her husband’s and Lorenzo’s egos the most. Tristan slept with her for that exact same reason I believe.”

  Morana swallowed. “She implied she was his constant for a long time.”

  Amara scoffed immediately. “Oh, puhleez! That woman’s a reptile." Dante had called her something similar. Interesting. "She wanted you to believe that because she’s the kind of woman who is immedi
ately threatened by any other woman. Smarter, prettier, doesn't matter. And anyway, if there was any woman who was a constant in Tristan’s life, it was you, even in your absence.”

  That, in a twisted way, warmed her. She let out a breath of relief. Hearing her exhale, Amara continued in a firm tone.

  “Don’t let her or anyone else get to you, Morana. I meant what I said. I have never seen Tristan as alive as I do with you. I truly believe you both have the possibility of building something good. Don’t let anything ruin that, especially in that place. That house is crawling with people who would love nothing more than to see Tristan burn. So, be strong for both your sake.”

  Morana took a deep breath. “I will. Thank you, Amara.”

  “As I said, anytime,” Amara replied in her soft, husky voice. “You need any inside information, or just to talk girl talk, I’m here. I’d like for us to continue this friendship, regardless of what happens with Tristan or Dante.”

  Morana picked at her top, smiling. “So would I.”

  “Good. I’m going to go now but we’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay,” Morana looked up at the sky, a weight lifted off her chest. After saying their goodbyes and planning another call, Morana kept her phone aside and watched the clouds dancing in the blue sky, the grays and whites merging, creating something magical. And she marveled at it. She marveled at everything and everyone she had gained in a few weeks. In the span of such a short time, she had friends, relationships. She had people who would give a shit if something happened to her and she had people she wanted to protect.

  It was such an odd thing, this new emotion inside her chest. She grabbed on to it, held on to it, cherished it.

  It mattered.

  Morana silently thanked Amara, once again, for telling her the truth. The fact that Tristan had not been with that woman for long as she’d wanted Morana to believe made her relax. She had been the only constant in his life, even though they were entwined by traumatic pasts. But they did have the possibility of something beautiful. She had sensed it, felt it, tasted it.