by V Vee
Helen wagged a finger at him. “Uh-uh. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Augustus tried for an innocent expression.
“Like you’re having dirty, inappropriate, “adult” type thoughts about me,” she said with a small smile.
Augustus shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re on about, I’m just listening to my favorite album.”
Helen pushed his shoulder and laughed. “About that! Why does a white prince from Malvidence have a Beyoncé album playing in his car? Did you do that because of me?”
Augustus gasped and turned to look at her in surprise. “I did that because Beyoncé is amazing. She’s talented. She’s smart. She’s giving. She’s bold and confident. She’s compassionate and understanding...” he hesitated and rubbed the back of his thick neck with one large palm. “And she’s hot as hell.”
Helen snapped her fingers. “And there it is. You listen to her because you like the way she looks!”
Augustus shook his head. “No. I listen to her because she’s talented and she can sing. Besides-“ he turned to look at her intensely. “Beyoncé can’t hold a candle to you.”
Helen leaned over to kiss him. To take his lips with her own. To finally, finally taste him again after going so long without his mouth pressed against hers, when a loud popping noise sounded and Augustus jerked, a sharp, coppery scented pool of dark, red blood formed on his chest. The windshield splintered from where the bullet had crashed through it.
Helen screamed and screamed. Begging for him not to leave her. A splash of cold water brought her out of her nightmare; and she blinked up at the person standing in front of her.
She was bound, restrained, and hanging from the rafters of what appeared to be an abandoned shed. She glared at her captor. His features looked familiar. So familiar. She gasped when she realized who she was looking at.
“You,” she snarled.
An icy tendril of fear crawled down her spine when he did nothing but laugh.
“Hello baby sister,” he said. “Glad we can finally meet face-to-face without the artifice.”
He shook his head. “Look at me! About to just chatter away when I haven’t even introduced myself to you.”
Helen watched in stupefaction as he bowed, before pulling off the prosthetic face, removing the mole, taking off the dark brown wig, pulling the prosthetic skin from his hands, neck and chest, before he stood before her, bare-chested and…
With light, caramel-brown skin.
The man she’d thought was the white guard waiting outside of the cathedral where she’d found out about Augustus and Taylor, was… biracial. With hazel-blue eyes. She gasped when he turned and she saw the large tattoo decorating his wide, muscled back. On it there were images of Jenna, Nefertiri, Emmie, Legus, as well as four other good-looking black men, and… was that a picture of her?
When he turned back to look at her, she had tears in her eyes.
“A-are you m-my brother?” she stammered.
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” he called out. “I knew you were smart. I mean. You had to be right?” He shook his head. “Our mother, she was so smart. And beautiful.” He lifted up a razor-sharp, butterfly knife and pointed it in her direction. “You actually remind me of her, a lot.”
Helen remembered what Augustus and even Andreas had told her about what had happened to her birth parents.
“Is that why you killed her? Because she was beautiful?” she asked in a trembling voice.
He let out low, evil chuckle. “You think I was mad at her because she was beautiful? Gorgeous? Stunning, even?” He spread his arms wide. “Look at me! You, our brother, Lamin, and I? We’re the ones who look the most like her.” He twirled the end of the knife in her direction. “You more so than us.” He stepped up to her and stroked her skin gently with the flat side of the knife.
“No, I killed our mother because she was a whore. She had two children: Nefertiri and Lutalo, but she wasn’t satisfied with her loving, doting husband: Leb. Your father.” He took a small step back, his arm stretched forward until the tip was pressed against her bicep. He spun it and Helen clenched her teeth to prevent the cries from spilling out of her mouth. Unsatisfied with her lack of screaming he moved to the other side and repeated the same action, spinning the tip of the knife against her skin until he’d slowly, painfully pierced her flesh, removing flesh, muscle, blood flowing from both wounds. Helen whimpered at the excruciating pain.
“Sshh,” he held up a finger to his lips. “I’m not done with my backstory. You know all superheroes have them…” He tapped a finger against his bottom lip. “Then again, all villains have them also. I wonder who I am?”
Helen opened her mouth to respond but stopped when he placed his hand over her mouth, piercing her side with the knife.
“Sshh, baby sister. That was a rhetorical question. I know who I am.” He yanked the blade from her body and tossed his arms in the air, Helen’s blood splattering him, the floor, ceiling, and wall. “I’m the superhero!”
You’re delusional.
“Anyway, where was I?” He hummed as he walked back over to his weapons and lifted up another knife. “Do you know what kind of knife this is? It’s a Microtech Combat Troodon ™. I bought it especially for you. The minute I saw it, I knew it was perfect for you.”
He spun around to face her. “We can’t have you walking around with the face of a slut, now can we?” He tilted his head to the side. “Although, that description would fit you now, wouldn’t it?” He shook his head. “Just like our mother. Our kutíbābā, spreading her legs for the filthy, white king of Malvidence.”
Helen gasped. “K-King C-Callum?”
He mocked her. “K-King C-Callum?” He laughed harshly. “Yes! Your precious Augustus is my half-brother. And you’re my half-sister. Hmm… does that mean that you two are involved in an incestuous relationship?” He laughed darkly. “How do you like that Mama? Your precious Helina is sleeping with my half-brother!” he yelled at the ceiling. He cleared his throat and seemed to compose himself before he looked back at her.
“My dear father was visiting Tepprysi and he took one look at our mother, who was distantly related to the Zameer royals, through the queen, saw her beautiful brown skin, her full-figure, and he seduced her. He did everything he could to get her to look in his direction. He was married and so was she. Do you think that stopped them? No. They spent two weeks fucking everywhere and every chance they got!” He spat angrily. “Then when our dear mother found out she was pregnant, she only told your father because she was afraid that the baby wasn’t his. Boy! Did she get a surprise, huh?”
He marched back over to her with the knife in his hand, holding it purposefully. “I grew up thinking that I was the same as the rest of you. It was only when you were born that the truth came out. Your father wanted our mother to send me to my father because they had nine other children to care for. Apparently one more was too much.”
Helen shook her head. She didn’t believe it. Everything Jenna, Emmie, and Nefertiri had told her about their parents, especially their father, suggested that they were not only compassionate, but welcoming. There had to be another reason.
“Yes! He didn’t want to have to raise the bastard child of his wife’s infidelity with the king of Malvidence! So, hearing what they wanted to do, I took… preemptive measures.”
“You killed them…” Helen’s voice was starting to fade as the blood loss she was experiencing began to deprive her of energy.
She was going to die. Before she’d gotten the chance to tell Augustus that she loved him.
Before she’d been able to get married and have children.
So much time wasted.
“Uh-uh, baby sister. No dying on me just yet. We have so much time to get caught up on. So much to learn about each other.”
She jerked when he slapped her.
“Wakey, wakey,” he sang. “Besides, you don’t want to die before you see your precious prince again do you?”
At that, Helen�
��s eyes snapped open. “You leave Augustus alone!”
He laughed. “You don’t give the orders, little girl.” Leaning very close to her he snarled. “I do.” And with that he buried the knife in her lower abdomen, laughing when Helen finally screamed.
The letter arrived at the palace for Augustus, delivered by messenger. Augustus stood in the entryway, glaring down at the letters written in Taylor’s delicate penmanship.
Augustus,
We have your sweet Helen. She’s a feisty one, I have to give her that.
But she won’t be feisty for long.
She’s dying, and she’s asking for you.
All of this could have been avoided if you’d only married me.
But now? Now, you and your entire kingdom will be destroyed.
Unless you get here soon.
Maybe you can save her.
Run, sweet prince. Run as fast as you can.
And hurry. Your precious Helen won’t be able to hold on for much longer.
The mother of your child,
Lady Taylor Weshian
“Bitch,” Algerone growled.
“Psycho,” Alastair agreed.
“Crazy,” Andreas said.
“Traitor,” Alfie replied and shrugged when they all looked at him. “What? I wanted to contribute something. Besides, I’m right. She is a traitor. To Malvidence. To the father of her child. Something needs to be done about her.”
Augustus pulled the gun he always carried with him from his waistband.
“Something will be done. It’s time to put both of them down like the animals they are.”
His brothers all nodded, and with that, they retreated to make plans for their plan of attack. When Leyah and Valerie stepped in the room, Augustus was in total agreement that they didn’t need to be involved. Though he didn’t want to waste precious time pointing out to the two women that they were mothers and that their children needed them.
Leyah shoved Alastair with a sound of exasperation, making Augustus look up.
“Las, look, I was a warrior before you domesticated me. Before I became your princess and the queen of my people? I fought alongside them. I trained so that I could wage war against the Malvidencian people. Just as this asshole is doing, now. I need to do this. He was one of us. He and Danorian? I strategized with them. I planned with them. I know how twisted and sadistic he is. I need to redeem myself.”
Alastair shook his head. “You don’t need to do any such thing,” he told her. “You’ve made amends. You’ve repented. You’ve paid your debt. Besides, you didn’t do this. They did this.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Think of our sons, Ley.”
Leyah lifted her hands and cupped his cheeks. “I am thinking of them. If we don’t end this now, today, then they aren’t safe. None of us are. Our boys are a part of you, and while my people had grievances against you, it’s nothing like him. He has a personal vendetta against your family. Which means he has a personal problem with me. With our boys. Let me help.”
No one in the room moved, until Alastair finally nodded. “Okay, but you have to be careful. And you have to do exactly what we say.”
Leyah nodded but Augustus saw the look she threw Valerie’s way.
It wasn’t something he could worry about right then. He had more important things to worry about.
Helen waited for him. Probably dying. And he was going to do whatever he had to do, accept any help offered to him, in order to save her.
He pointed at the map they’d spread out on the table, detailing their plan of attack. Taylor had given him directions on how to get to where Helen was being held, and they didn’t have much time.
Hold on, miora ruĝa. I’m coming.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Augustus stepped out of his car and exhaled deeply. He looked around at the abandoned buildings and wondered how long they’d been on the palace grounds without any of them being aware.
What has he been doing? And for how long?
He slammed the door shut and took a couple of steps before he became aware of the presence of another person.
“Drop the gun, Mexoria Źeylήia,” a deep, male voice said just behind him.
“What gun?” Augustus tried to play dumb.
“I’m not an idiot, Prince,” the man said, stepping closer and pressing the muzzle of his gun against the back of Augustus’s head. “And I’ve worked for your family long enough to know that you never leave the palace without your weapons. Now. Drop. Them.”
Augustus’s body tensed with barely restrained anger.
“Danorian,” he sneered.
“In the flesh.”
Augustus shook his head, then pulled his gun from the holster at his back. Then the other from his ankle holster, before removing the hunting knife, in its sheath, from his waistband. He tossed them all to the ground in front of him and snarled when Persephone stepped out of the darkness to collect them.
She grinned widely at him, not a trace of guilt or hesitation on her face.
“Hi Augustus. How’s Alastair?” she asked.
“Happily married and a father,” he spat at her. She merely nodded and shrugged.
“Yeah, we heard about that. You know, we really thought he was going to leave Princess Aa’Leyah to rot in her cell.” She giggled. “We’d actually been planning on it, you know? We were going to sneak in one night, and deal with her ourselves.” She lowered her voice, her eyes twinkling.
“I was really going to enjoy cutting those babies from her belly.” She shook her head as if truly disappointed. “Now my knife is thirsty and only the blood of that uppity bitch will quench its thirst.”
Quick as lightning, she brandished the knife and swiped it against his cheek. Augustus cursed and would have launched himself at her, but a thick, black pillowcase was shoved over his head. Danorian restraining his hands behind his back with zip ties.
“Tsk, tsk, Prince Augustus. Did your parents ever teach you to not hit a woman?” Danorian mocked in his ear.
Augustus didn’t respond. He wouldn’t. Not when the man before him was actively taking part in trying to kill his woman. His sisters-in-law. His family.
“Move,” Danorian commanded and shoved Augustus forward. He began walking towards one of the abandoned buildings. He knew his brothers and Leyah were out there somewhere, watching him. He could only hope that they were close enough to help when he gave the signal.
Augustus was shoved into the room ahead of Danorian and Persephone. He stumbled a bit and turned to curse at them when he caught sight of the blood that puddled on the floor. His heart thudded painfully as he looked around for her. His stomach sinking as he was pushed further into the building, he slipped in the crimson liquid, the coppery scent burning the hairs of his nostrils.
A watery, gargled gasp of his name, had him looking up.
Helen.
She was hanging from the rafters, wounds decorated her body and Augustus had to swallow the bile that swelled in his throat. If it weren’t for the stuttered breaths she was taking, the way her chest rose and fell, he wouldn’t even know she was alive.
“Oh God, baby,” he choked out.
“R-run,” Helen said. Before he could figure out why she would tell him to leave her, a heavy weight landed on the back of his head, and all he saw was black.
Helen felt as if her heart was going to stop the moment he—her brother, Lorvaius Kafele (Smythe)—shook his head as he stepped away from Augustus’s prone form on the floor. The dirty floor covered and splattered with her blood.
Lorvaius hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was going to keep her alive to see Augustus again. She was covered in cuts, gashes, and open, bleeding wounds, but the ones that needed stitches were all cleaned, stitched, and bandaged. If Helen hadn’t known he was a crazy sociopath, she might have thought that her older brother would make a good doctor.
Too bad he’s batcrap crazy, she thought as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“I must say I’m a little disappoin
ted in your choice of lover, baby sister,” Lorvaius said. She cringed every time he pointed out their familial connection, and each time she did he laughed and cut her. Only this time, he cut a long, purposefully jagged line down Augustus’s torso. “I would have thought he would fight and overtake Danorian here. Come in with guns blazing, ready to die for you. Instead?” He kicked Augustus in the face and Helen cried out, begging for him to spare her love.
“Instead, he meekly lets them lead him right to this building. As if all the fight had left him in his pursuit of you.” He spat at Augustus, then gestured with his head for Danorian, Taylor—who’d been sitting on Lorvaius’s lap in the corner—and Persephone to pick him up.
He watched with a disinterested expression on his face as they tied him up next to her. Helen looked at him and felt her eyes burn as tears flooded them before running down her bruised cheeks.
“Oh, please tell me you aren’t crying for this white devil?” her… brother groaned in agitation as he gestured towards Augustus with his thumb.
“Y-you don’t understand because you’ve n-never l-loved anyone,” Helen cried softly. She shook her head. “I love him with every part of me and I would die for him. I would do anything for him.” She glared at Lorvaius who watched her with a hard, implacable mask stamped across his features. “You—all of you—are doing this because you don’t know what love, true love, is. You think it’s fear, or control, or material things, or power, or money, or a title, even repentance but that’s not what love is.” She sniffled and lifted her head. The topical cream that had been placed on her wounds had dulled the pain, somewhat, and though she knew it was going to come back soon with a vengeance—if she didn’t die first—she was strong enough to meet their gazes, and her end, head on.
“Love is forgiveness. Selflessness. Patience. Understanding. Compassion. It’s encouragement. Care.”
She saw the way Taylor’s eyes shifted towards Lorvaius, and Persephone looked over at Danorian, for a moment and she pushed on. Maybe she could appeal to them. They were horrible, vapid women, but they were women, nonetheless. And it seemed as if they were involved and even cared for the other two men in the room, no matter the role they’d played among the Smythes.