42 41. War Baby

"Who?"

I assumed he was bluffing and solely wanted my attention because he didn't know the actual details. He didn't understand the atrocity of my situation and its enormity. He didn't really understand what it meant to kill your lover's father for some documents (just imagining trying to explain my 'reasons' to Samara, made me want to curl up and die). He didn't understand that nothing would make this even slightly better. Nothing would change who I am.

Not him going against his morals to support a long lost, darkness-consumed brother. And definitely not 'distracting' me.

"Well, who would benefit from having Samara turn on you?" He asked with an easy smirk, and I wondered how he managed to trust me on his life. He was just sitting there, probably feigning nonchalance, and talking to me like we were long life friends. He was sighing, smirking, talking unshakably, and inching closer to the tub. Closer to me.

I wondered if his core was quaking. I wondered if it was scolding him for being so stupid to follow his heart just this one time. I wondered if there was behind this confidence of his, a battle he was fighting. A battle to stay with his murderer of a brother. I wondered if that was why his hands were curled into fists. Was it to hide their uncontrollable shaking? One can have so much control over his body, face. But not their extremities.

Extremities, like shaking hands and tapping feet, peel any pretence anyone is holding up. And he was hiding them from me.

"Who?" I repeated, taking a deep breath.

"Who do you think?" He repeated, raising his eyebrows and looking at me as if still processing the idea in his head.

"I do not think. Just tell me who." I snapped impatiently, my clutch around the empty scotch bottle tightening, and I wondered why was I even holding it in the first place and let it go.

"Well," he said, sighing dramatically. "I'll give you some hints." He tilted his head. "If he doesn't trust you, gaining Samara's trust is going to totally benefit him. He can manipulate her-"

Realization dawned on me and I narrowed my eyes at him, interrupting him with a scowl. "No."

"Yes!" He said, shaking his head and leaning in to make his point. I leaned away. "It wouldn't cost Dad a thing!"

"No," I repeated boredly. "That's not his strategy. He doesn't like theatrics. He wouldn't invest a second in creating this intricately boring drama. You're looking for a much more 'interesting' amateur. Not Father." I tilted my head to glare at him.

"Mate." He furrowed his eyebrows. "He'd totally do it!"

"I know better." I closed my eyes with a sigh, feeling defeated.

"No, no," he protested, standing up. "You said he killed your Audrey and baby!" He said bluntly. "This is drama, Julius!"

I examined him curiously. He looked provoked with his wet and slick hair, angry-red cheeks, and his sharp eyes, daring me to not believe him.

"Why are you insistent about this?" I muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"What's up with you two?"

Augustus shrugged, flexed his fingers and ran them nervously through his hair. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Right." I let my gaze linger on him.

He shifted slightly before sitting down with a heavy sigh next to the tub. He pulled his legs closer to him, crossed his feet at his ankles, and threw his arms around his knees.

"Well," Augustus started, fumbling with his fingers. "Well. All I can tell you is that things were never the same after he killed Sam."

I tried studying him but his hair was obscuring his face. I looked away with a soft sigh, silence settling between us.

"He didn't know," I whispered, surprising myself. "He didn't know," I then repeated louder, clearing my throat. "-that you had feelings for her."

I didn't understand why I particularly said that. I didn't understand why I was softening his heart toward my father. Our father.

"I know." He pressed. "But he shouldn't go around killing anyone he thinks isn't worthy of living." His voice was strangled and I was scared he was going to start crying. Because Augustus' crying wouldn't make this any better. As it happened, I'd had enough drama for the day.

So I scoffed.

"If you don't defend him, you shouldn't defend me either," I said solidly, shifting heavily in the ice-cold water. "We're not so different."

Augustus didn't say a word then but rested his back against the wall and stared ahead. "Why do you care?" he then said. "I mean, you wanted me to hate him."

"I never wanted that. I'd prefer it, but never want it." I pointed out. "As a matter of fact, I don't care. But I wouldn't want Father dead yet. Because of you."

"You still think I'll be the reason behind his death?" He shook his head, his voice constrained.

"I don't think," I smirked. "I'm sure."

He shook his head and I looked away.

"You really are looking for revenge now, aren't you?" I glanced at him as his right hand tightly clasped his left wrist. "Don't be stupid." I continued, closing my eyes. "He'd die for you. You think you'll be able to carry on without him, but you'll be disappointed when you start missing him and blaming yourself."

And I thought how amusing it was to try 'helping' him. How good it felt to divert him away from his idiotic thinking and being useful for once.

I heard him sniff but didn't look.

"So you're giving me advice when you're the messed up one?" I commented incredulously.

"I'm not that fucked," he muttered. "You're way more fucked."

"True," I said. "Just get it together. Or whatever."

"So." He huffed out, extending his left leg. "-did those French fucks cause you any trouble?" He asked, referring to Maxime and Leonard.

"Actually," I fake pouted. "Actually, no."

"Seriously?" He said, turning his pale visage and teary, bright eyes to me. "I mean you made them your bitches."

"There wasn't anything that they could do."

"Still weird," Augustus added with a heavy sigh.

I looked away and sighed. They were Samara's half-brothers.

"They're Samara's half-brothers," I stated.

"No, shit." Augustus jolted up and I nodded tiredly.

"That's what I first thought too." I sighed. "It's an awfully long story."

"What the hell Julius?" Augustus suddenly exclaimed. "You can't possibly be that idiotic."

"About?" I muttered vexedly, running a hand through my wet hair.

"If they're her brothers," Augustus said thoughtfully. "-and they're breathing little, sophisticated French fucks. They can tell her! They can dig up everything about you. And she'll easily believe and trust them!"

"Of course not," I said, looking away thoughtfully. "She doesn't know that they're her brothers. At least, that's what I think. Why would she trust them? And why would she believe anyone selling anything about me if she truly loved me?"

Augustus snorted. "Well, she confronted you, didn't she?" I looked at him and shut up. "I mean -bless her- if she had any doubt, you confirmed it, dickhead."

"Still-" I argued despite it making perfect sense.

"Still what? They're pretty legit. They might've given her some -I don't know?- papers? Or some shit?" He said, his eyes brightening as he connected more dots.

"No," I scoffed. "They wouldn't have it."

"Then they faked it to fit the story!" He said as if it was the most obvious thing. "That you killed their father! And that's because -oh my- you're a big, bad wolf. They wouldn't even need to tell her who they are. I mean, did she mention anything about the company? Dad? The documents?"

I shook my head subtly as I processed the idea more.

"See?!" Augustus grinned as if he got it all figured out. "They made a story up! Samara probably wanted an explanation of her father's death and they gave her that! And you stupidly fell into the trap and confirmed. Samara doesn't even know the real murderer you!"

"Still," I shook my head. "How did she know I killed twenty people? That's very accurate."

Augustus sighed dramatically. "My my dear, dear brother, that God decided to give me when I was twenty, only to realize that he's a walking, talking, killing moron." I raised my eyebrows. "If anyone on Earth asks me -let's say- how many shirts do you think you have? I'll throw a twenty at them. How many different types of kisses are there? Another twenty? How many -I don't know- eggs-?"

"You made your very idiotic point," I said, almost smiling. "Which is very, very unlikely-"

"It is not unlikely." Augustus tsked. "You just like to complicate complicated matters. It was like you're born for it. There's a humongous difference."

I sighed. "Fine. But it'd be very reckless of them to do such a thing. I mean -blimey- they just set themselves on fire without realizing." I was surprised by my coolness. I was not angry. I was actually very calm. Maybe because I still didn't believe it.

"I know right!" Augustus cheered as I heavily got out of the water and staggered past my brother out of the bathroom. Water leaked from me as I shivered slightly.

He followed.

I was shocked to see the suite in a complete mess. Vases were broken, the TV was knocked off, and there was a lot of water on the floor, soaking the carpets.

"Ah, mate," Augustus commented with a sigh. "-you must've had it hard."

I didn't focus on what he said and cursed under my breath.

"What's wrong mate?" Augustus just never stopped talking and I almost snapped at him.

I took a deep breath. "I can't find my phone," I muttered miserably, eyeing the mess in front of me.

"And you're angry about that?"

"Acutely." I clenched my jaws.

"You could've told me," he smirked. "I can call. And you'll hear it ring. Are you aware that phones can do that? Communicate with each other? Send sound waves-?"

"Shut up and do it." I felt a treacherous smile creep up my lips but pursed it away. After a few moments, I felt a buzz in my pants' pockets.

"And it ends up on you. Classic." He commented with a snort. "You gotta learn what it means to calm the hell down."

I ignored him and reached for my very wet, miraculously working phone. Guess it was waterproof. I unlocked it and was surprised to see a message from a private number. The same number on which a threat was sent.

I eyed it wearily before opening it.

Private number:

:)

Augustus was right. My nose flared as I clenched the phone too hard, and was about to throw it away when I felt Augustus' hand on my shoulder.

"Told you," he said seriously. "And now, you gotta do shit about it. Because if you don't, they might not stop at anything to get those documents -which by the way, I deserve an explanation to know what exactly they're about."

I held my breath before breathing out. "I've something on my mind," I said, flipping my phone between my index and middle fingers. "Be ready to be surprised."

Feeling furious was an understatement. I was utterly dismayed because they just awoke a hibernating monster within me. I never planned on being an enemy. I never planned on a battle with them.

Because, hell, I gave them war.

...

I pushed my sunglasses over my hair and loosened my jade-green scarf (I bought a new one) before knocking on the door. It was almost eight in the morning and it was warmer than usual. And I thought that maybe winter was finally delivering its last words as occasional wind gusts and drizzles.

The door was opened by America -Father's housekeeper- who stepped aside with a small smile. I let my eyes around the inside of the house before stepping in with a gentle sigh. America then guided me through the luxurious place to Father who sat at the dining table's head, in a crisp, white suit and a royal-blue tie, with his hands clasped on the tabletop. His fingers were ringless.

His dyed, brown hair was combed neatly to the side and his face was set with a knowing, teasing smile. Powerful, never mind the heart attack that almost killed him.

Or maybe, he was acting. Trying his best not to let the real him show up in front of me. Again.

I walked steadily toward the table as he unclasped his hands with a disturbing twinkle in his dark eyes.

"Right on time." He said and I smirked, dragging a chair to sit on. "I'm impressed."

I made sure I called him yesterday to meet up and use him to help me. Eight was the time of our 'meeting'.

"What can I say?" I arched a brow. "I am impressive."

Father nodded once before snapping his fingers twice. America was right by his side in a matter of seconds.

"Serve the food." He said slowly with an air of authority and she nodded before leaving us with a smile, plastered on her face. Father then looked at me with the same knowing smile. "You said you wanted to discuss something that might interest me. You said you knew who had the documents."

"That's true," I said, grabbing a napkin and placing it over my laps as I stared at the perfect arrangement of the utensils in front of me.

"Interesting indeed." He said, doing the same in slow precision. I watched his stubby fingers go over the shiny utensils before he looked up and talked. "Why didn't you bring the girl along? We could've had some fun with a blind girl." He smiled.

"I would've if they were with her," I replied, ignoring the pang in my heart as America came and started serving Father's food.

"Wow. A plot twist." He said with fake enthusiasm. "I love those."

I almost smirked at his remark when I was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. I turned my head to find Augustus standing with messy hair, boxers, and socks. He stared at me and I glared at him.

Idiot. Look away- was what I wanted to communicate and he thankfully got it. He masked his surprise quickly and looked at Father with a deep frown.

"You didn't tell me we were having...guests." His voice was rough and I dared smile.

"He is not a guest, August." My father said, amusement lacing his composed voice as he extended an arm toward me. "He is your half-brother."

Augustus faltered and looked at me as I subtly shook my head with a slightly raised brow.

"Right." He fake grimaced. "I'll give you some time." He glanced at me, then looked back at Father quickly. "I was -uh- going out anyway."

"Sure thing," Father said with a tight smile. "I'll be here when you return."

Augustus ran his left hand through his hair and tried really hard not to look at me before finally leaving. I looked after him until Father's clearing his throat caught my attention. I averted my gaze back to him and he raised his eyebrows as if expecting me to continue.

"As it happens," I said, sipping on some red wine. "Ricardo had a big, happy family. And so he decided to keep his valued possessions with his beloved sons." I finished with a smile.

Father stopped reaching for his toast and averted his gaze to me. "Sons?" He retracted his arm and rested his hand around the neck of a water glass cup as his index finger traced the mouth slowly.

"They finish all the unfinished 'business' he left behind." I continued bitterly, fumbling with my ring. "Gorj isn't their only case."

Father studied me for a moment too long before he nodded once. "And they have the documents?"

"Yes. They do." I lied with a sigh. I had them.

"How did you figure out all that?" He asked, flicking his eyes up to lock mine.

I didn't expect this question so I blurted the first thing that occurred to me. "It was merely coincidental."

"Coincidence?" Father scoffed, but I was fast to come back at him.

"It goes against our rules," was what I said. And it was true. Father made sure I never believed in coincidence. That everything had a logical explanation behind it. Which, in that case, was very true, but there was no way I was disclosing that to him.

"You know." He said indifferently, his sharp eyes swimming around the dining room. "-I don't believe in coincidence. So if you may, explain." A pause. "If you're lying," he started with a bored sigh. "-because you want to protect one of your beloved companions, please free me from this."

I shifted my gaze to the pancakes in front of me. "In fact," I started slowly, clearing my throat. "-I want to protect myself."

"I thought I brought you up to be perfectly capable of that." He said between his teeth, looking up with a forced smile.

"True." I cocked my head a little. "But I can't do it for longer," I said. "Ever since they knew I know about the documents, they've been threatening and resisting me. And to be honest, I came here for help."

"So your new ways are not working?" He said, raising her eyebrows with a smirk. "Your new, blood-free, humane, sophisticated methods." He almost chuckled.

I ignored him. "Are you in or should I continue doing it my way?" I cut short the undesirable chit-chat.

Father shifted in his seat. "Well." He took the knife and dipped it in a plate of butter. He picked a piece. "You know my policy. Unless you're willing to explain yourself more, I will not-" He spread the butter piece on his toast. "I will not help you."

"Well." I mocked. "I will do it my way and be the first to hold the documents."

Father froze a bit before chuckling. "Right." His eyes twinkled darkly. "You got me there. But let me ask you something," he said. "Do you know what's in them?"

Oh, 'Daddy', I know and know and know.

"Should I?" I asked back.

"Answering questions with questions is only a sign of lying, son." He said wistfully with a smirk. Another lesson of his: how to be a walking lie detector.

"Well, I do know," I said. "I'm very good at guessing. It's probably some evidence for all the illegal things we've done." I lied 'seriously', looking straight in his eyes.

He scoffed, studied me, and sighed. "I'll relieve you, though," he said. "I'll tell you what's in them."

"What makes you think I'd believe you?" I asked with a smile. "I mean maybe you're hiding something about yourself. In there."

Father pursed his lips, cleared his throat, clasped his hands, and then smiled. "Maybe."

"So?" I said with an easy smirk. "Is that a 'yes'?"

He worked his jaws. "Tell me about them."

"Maxime and Leonard," I smirked. "Want to do it your way, do it your way."

"Are you sure they have the documents?" My father repeated his previous question with caution. "Are you absolutely certain? I wouldn't want to make foes with some kids for God's sake."

I smiled and looked straight into his eyes. "I'm not certain. But sometimes taking a chance is better than sitting in a fancy house and waiting for my housekeepers to serve me as I worry about a son who might or might not even care."

My father's left eye twitched before he sipped on his water. "We're done here," he said, adjusting his tie. "You may leave."

And it was done. Maxime and Leonard were no more. Or at least I hoped so.