48. Jasmine

Chapter forty-eight

Jasmine

" T he end." I close the book and slip it back on the shelf before getting the next in the series.

"He loves that series," Marcus mutters from the doorway. I jump out of my skin at the sight of him there.

"Marcus," I gasp, my voice barely louder than a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace in the room. "He's been waking up more regularly, and asking for you."

Marcus nods, and we switch places. I momentarily lose my smile, realising I am just a stand-in for Alex's real parent.

"Let's give them some space," Zane suggests, his voice a gentle command that pulls me from the bedside.

I nod, allowing myself to be guided downstairs by the subtle pressure of Zane's hand at the small of my back. It feels natural to follow his lead and move away from the guard post I have kept. There is an understanding between us, a shared knowledge that this moment is for Marcus - a chance for him to reconnect with Alex without the weight of our collective gazes.

"Is it all sorted?" I question. I feel like I shouldn't ask; as if Desmond's fate is some mafia secret that only those who swear a blood oath can know.

His eyes meet mine, and I see the weight of the world sitting heavily in them. It's a very dramatic and impressive look.

"You need to know?" he asks.

"I deserve to know something."

I stare at Zane, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and anger. He stands there calmly, his arms crossed over his chest as if he had done nothing wrong.

"I took him to Sergey for body donations. He was very happy to have another living organ donor."

My mind reels with horror at the thought of what that means. My stomach churns as I picture Desmond, alive and well, being cut open and used for spare parts. I can't believe that Zane could be so heartless.

"Are you insane?" I shout, taking a step closer to him. "How could you do that to someone?"

Zane doesn't flinch as I advance on him, his eyes locked onto mine.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he shrugs coolly. "You should know that better than anyone. You heard what he did to Alex."

"No one hurts the family," I repeat with a sigh. This is about retribution for Alex, not me. I'm not worth such a punishment,

"Exactly," he agrees. "We sent a message today. You and Alex are protected. Desmond may not get a chance to learn that, but everyone else will."

"What do you mean ‘another'?" Finally recalling his earlier words. Who else has hurt the family enough to deserve that death?

"Sergey needs fresh organs. It's our way of giving back to the community. Their deaths aren't a complete waste if others benefit from their organs."

"Yes, I get that, but who is the other?" A chill runs through me at the idea of Andrew being cut up the same way. "Was it Andrew?"

"No one can trace anything," Zane assures me.

That isn't the point. My point is the fact the last victim was alive.

Alive. As in, I didn't kill Andrew.

I feel a surge of anger rising within me, and without thinking, I ball up my fist and swing it at Zane's face. But he is too quick for me, and he dodges out of the way at the last second.

"Easy now," he soothes, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "We don't need to resort to violence."

"You lied to me."

"Not exactly."

It is too late. The damage has been done. I turn and run towards the stairs, my mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and heartbreak. When I get up to our room, I tear off my ring and throw my things into a bag, not caring where they land. All the while tears of betrayal and disappointment flow freely like a river down my blotchy face.

As I stand there, panting and seething with rage, Marcus taps on the door.

"Alex is asking what all the noise is," he explains. "It may take a while for the brutality of this life to sink in, but I promise this isn't a regular thing."

"Andrew was alive when your dad handed him over to Sergey? Or whatever his name is."

"I don't know about Andrew. I can tell you about Desmond if it will help."

"No, it won't bloody help."

"If we can keep the noise down, maybe I can try?" Marcus shrugs.

"Yes, of course." Alex is right next door, wanting peace and quiet, and probably his dad back. "If Andrew was alive when he went to Sergey, then Zane let me believe I killed Andrew when I didn't."

"Nothing is ever as cut and dry as we think." His gentle voice breaks through my anger. "I killed Desmond Graves today. Did I actually point my gun at him and fire, no. But I brought about the circumstances that led to his death. So he didn't die by my hand, but I killed him. People aren't getting the message that Sergey needs more kidneys. They are getting the message that if you touch my son, I will destroy you."

"This is about Andrew, not Desmond," I remind him.

"It's the same thing," Marcus shrugs. "Did you push the knife into him? No."

"Well yes, actually," I confess.

"So what are you complaining about?" Marcus frowns.

"But he wasn't dead when Zane gave him to Sergey."

"My dad didn't protect you from what would happen if Andrew died. He protected you from what would have happened if Andrew had lived." Marcus heaves out a sigh. "Although he has protected you from what happened because he died too."

"I am truly sorry for what happened to Alex."

"I've had my revenge for that one. The matter is closed."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And thank you for making my dad as happy as he deserves."

"You are very welcome." I smile as Marcus slips out of the room, then I pick up my ballet shoes. They are looking a little frayed and battered now; I haven't kept them in the best condition. But I'm not going to give up on my dreams because of one simple detail. I may not have actually dealt a fatal blow to Andrew, but I did kill him, didn't I? I put events in motion, and if it wasn't for Zane, I'd be dead, or worse, Mrs. Jasmine Graves. Some would say that was a fate worse than death.