Chapter 5: Hidden Scars

Isis woke up feeling unusually calm. Something warm was resting on his chest, and it felt… good. He never felt this at ease. Usually, he woke irritated or completely numb.

Opening his eyes, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

It was Xanthe.

She was asleep, her head resting on his chest, her face turned toward him. So close. His heart pounded loudly.

Would she hear my heartbeat?

He bit his lower lip, thinking of how to adjust their positions without waking her. Her face was dangerously close, and he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

He knew the position was probably uncomfortable for her, but she was so sleepy that she didn’t seem to care.

Fuck! How can I be so selfish?

He glanced at his wristwatch. 5:25 a.m.

Motherfucker! I didn’t expect to sleep this long! He was used to sleeping only thirty minutes to an hour, without pills. And last night, he hadn’t taken any.

His gaze returned to Xanthe’s peaceful face. I actually fell asleep on her lap… as a pillow… and slept well. That’s new.

What was it about this woman?

He sighed quietly and gently shifted her head from his chest. She didn’t wake, simply turned slightly and continued sleeping.

Careful not to disturb her, he rose slowly, supporting her head as he lifted her. Then panic hit him.

Where the fuck is her room? he whispered, climbing the stairs to the second floor.

There were three bedrooms.

He opened the first one. The room smelled familiar, Xanthe’s scent. This was definitely her room.

He laid her down carefully. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake, continuing to sleep soundly.

He exhaled sharply and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 5:27 a.m.

Then he noticed something.

Her shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing her waist. He froze.

A healed cut. Three inches long.

His hands, cold from the early morning air, trembled. Against his better judgment, he gently lifted her shirt a bit more to see clearly. Several long, clean cuts scarred her skin.

It was already healed, but it still shook him.

He sank to the edge of the bed, staring at her sleeping face. He had always thought Xanthe’s life was gentle and safe. Kind and nice, nothing dark. He had been wrong.

Who did this to her? His chest tightened. He clenched his fists. “Fuck… who the hell did this?”

He jumped up, pacing the room to calm down. He didn’t want to wake her with his anger. He ran out of her room, locking the house and the gate before hopping into his taxi and driving straight to his home.

He was furious. He needed to calm down.

At his home, his heart raced. He still clenched his fists, blood boiling. Who had hurt her?

He stormed to his mini-bar, grabbing a bottle of rum. He hated this type of alcohol, he preferred beer but he needed something strong to calm down.

He couldn’t stop seeing those scars on her back. What if he had lifted her shirt more? What else might he have seen?

“Fuck!” he yelled, punching the counter.

He pulled out his phone, ignoring the pain in his knuckles, and dialed Donnovan.

The call rang five times before Donnovan picked up. “This better be important, you moron.”

“I’m angry,” Isis said through clenched teeth.

Donnovan sighed, cutting the call abruptly.

He set the phone down and continued drinking directly from the bottle.

Minutes later, footsteps approached. Donnovan, in pajamas, entered the room.

“For fuck’s sake, Lancaster, I slept late last night,” Donnovan groaned.

“I’m pissed,” Isis growled.

“What am I, your anger sponge?” Donnovan muttered, pouring himself whiskey. “Seriously, Lancaster, what happened now?”

Isis tightened his grip on the bottle. “I met a woman… she helped me…” he spat through clenched teeth. “She was kind. Wanted nothing from me. Nothing.”

“And?” Donnovan sat down beside him. “She turned out to be a bitch?”

Isis’ eyes flared. He grabbed Donnovan by the collar. “Take it back. She’s not a bitch!”

Donnovan froze, wide-eyed. “Woah… who is she?”

Isis let go, averting his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“Really? Even her name? I’m married, you know.”

Isis stayed silent.

Donnovan chuckled. “Fine, fine… keep her name. You’re in deep. Should I call the gang?”

Isis shook his head.

Donnovan exhaled loudly. “So… what made you mad?”

Isis opened his mouth to explain, but thoughts of Xanthe’s scars stopped him. She hated people seeing her back. He couldn’t embarrass her.

He closed his mouth. “You can leave now.”

“Motherfucker…” Donnovan tsked. “Okay, if you don’t want to talk. Calm down before I leave.”

“I already told Astrid I was going out. She’s fine,” Donnovan said, pouring more whiskey. “So… what are you up to these days?”

“Waiter,” he replied.

Donnovan rolled his eyes. “You and your work…”

Isis smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

“You know I can help, right? If it’s money—”

“No. You know my father.”

Donnovan exhaled loudly. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Suddenly, Isis’ sharp ears picked up footsteps. He planted his palm on the counter, flipped mid-air, landing silently behind it.

He pulled a hidden gun from under the counter, pointing it at the newcomer.

“My Lord…” Ajax raised both hands. “I come in peace.”

Donnovan put down his glass, startled by the tension. “I’ll go.”

Isis nodded. Ajax passed by, and Isis tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s Triad activity again,” said. “No information yet. They’re being careful, hard to track.”

Isis rubbed his temples. “Piece of junk. They give me headaches. Kill one, two more appear. Can’t I rest for a few weeks?” He tsked. “Tell the Organ trackers to do their job or I’ll kill them all.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Ajax replied.

Isis’ expression turned icy. “I need information by tomorrow morning.”

Ajax nodded. “Orders will be executed, my Lord.”

Isis didn’t speak further. He drained the rum in one go.

“Would you like two slices of cake, my Lord?” Ajax asked. “To improve your mood.”

Isis snatched the gun, shooting the counter in rapid succession, fifteen bullets. Ajax didn’t flinch, not even once.

Isis exhaled loudly, seeing the bullet holes just inches from Ajax’s head. “Fuck.”

“Still angry, my Lord?” Ajax asked calmly.

“A little,” Isis replied, leaving the mini-bar. “Clean this up, Ajax.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Isis left the mini-bar and went upstairs to his room. The moment he entered, he sensed something.

He flipped the lights on.

His eyes widened. His brother was sitting on the sofa, bleeding, unconscious.

Fuck!

“Caius!”