Reap (Scarred Souls 2)

My heart was in the enemy’s hands. Betrayal of my family brought me to my knees. I had nothing left to give.

“Zaal!” Talia cried suddenly, her cracked and broken voice carrying off in the wind. I looked up as Talia ran onto the sand, her legs bringing her toward me.

Her chest heaved. Her hands shook. She staggered to a halt and stared intently into my eyes.

She was in pain. As much pain as I felt.

She was like me. No, she was a part of me.

Talia stood, watching me. She was as still as a statue. My mind told me it was wrong. My memories told me it was wrong. But in my heart, it felt right.

I needed her.

I needed my Talia.

Pushing myself to stand, I watched Talia brace for my wrath, her arms rising in defense. I took a step forward. Even above the strong wind, I heard her breathing hitch. I saw her body flinch. I lifted my head. Our gazes met. Talia’s lips parted. I took another step forward. Talia tensed, then I dropped to my knees and threw my arms around her waist.

I held her tight. As tight as I could without hurting her. My cheek pressed against her stomach. I could hear her heart pounding. A feeling so consuming built in my stomach, and then unable to hold it back, it ripped from my throat.

I was crying.

Releasing all the pain I’d just been hit with. All the pain from the memories muddying my mind, I fell apart on this sand. I clutched on to Talia, like I couldn’t get close enough. My chest ached with everything pouring from my soul, then instantly spreading me with warmth, Talia’s arms wrapped around my head, drawing me closer to her soft body.

I could feel her crying, too; shaking, sharing my pain. Then Talia dropped to her knees. My chest hit the cold sand, as my head rested in her lap. I shuddered with the severity of my sobs. I released twenty years of grief that had been trapped inside my mind.

And Talia cradled my head, she rocked me back and forth, she stroked her hand through my hair.

She did not speak, just sat there with me. A Tolstoi comforting a Kostava.

After I didn’t know how long, my tears ran dry and a raw, blistering ache throbbed in my chest. Talia’s hands slowed on my head. The strong wind died down. I could hear Talia breathing and I took a deep breath.

Unclasping my hands from her back, I placed them on the sand and forced myself to my knees. My hair covered my face as my swollen eyes stared at the sand.

Talia was silent.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head. Talia’s face was so sad, so hurt. It shattered any contempt I had left within me.

Talia lowered her head and said, “I should have told you.”

When I didn’t say anything in response, she raised her head. Immediately I noticed the necklace was gone. A tear dropped in the place it used to be. I looked into her eyes. “I tried to hate you.” She sniffed, and I stilled at her words. Her shoulders sagged and defeat seized her body. “But I couldn’t,” she confided in a whisper. “I couldn’t hate you. In fact I was obsessed and then it turned to something deeper. I committed the ultimate of all sins.”

I held my breath, waiting to hear her finish that sentence. But Talia edged forward, her knees brushing against mine. A small smile spread on her lips, and her fingers traveled to my neck, then up to rest against my cheek.

We breathed in the same air, her palm warming my cold face. Her head tipped to the side and the look of affection in her eyes was my undoing.

She leaned forward, and pressing her lips to the side of my mouth, whispered, “I fell for our greatest enemy. I fell in deep, and I gifted him all of my heart, all of this enemy Tolstaia heart.”

I closed my eyes and fully absorbed what she had said. She’d gifted me her heart. Talia’s hands underneath mine were shaking. Opening my eyes, I said, “Your hands are cold.”

She froze, then a nervous laugh burst from her lips, and she threw herself into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck. Tucking my nose into the crook of her neck, I breathed in her scent.

“Zaal,” she whispered, and clutched me tighter.

Her whole body was trembling as she held me close. I gently pulled away. “You are cold,” I declared. Her lips chattered and her skin was icy to the touch.

“You needed me,” she replied softly, her fingers combing through my hair. Taking a deep breath, Talia lost her laughter, and said, “I was extremely close to my grandmother, Zaal. As a child, and right up until her death a few years ago.” I froze as Talia began to mention her family. Talia shuffled on my lap, moving in closer.

“She and I were kindred spirits. She was feisty, and never walked the line”—Talia laughed—“just like me. I’ve never been good at obeying my father’s strict rules.” Talia’s fingers stopped stroking my hair. She was lost in her memories. “I grew up knowing only the story my family told me of our family’s conflict. The one where the Georgians used to be part of the Vor V Zakone, the soviet Thieves in Law, until they turned coat. I knew how the Kostavas, the Jakhuas, and the Volkovs all worked together as one unit. And I was told the story of how the Volkovs took the turf in New York, but banned the Georgians from joining them, taking the territory as their own, leaving the Jakhuas and Kostavas to run Moscow.” Talia sighed, shook her head, and continued, “And I know that your father, out of anger for this slight against his faction, organized to murder the Volkov bosses when they were next to visit home. But my grandfather ended up going alone to Moscow on the fated trip when Jakhua and your father planned the murder to send a message. It was my grandfather your father shot and hung from a street post for everyone in Russia to see. And it was my grandmother that lost the love of her life that day, all so the Georgians could show their strength against the Russians.”

I tensed listening to the story from the Russian point of view, but as Talia’s hand began moving through my hair again, I tried to relax.

Talia shifted again, laying her head against my chest, and said, “I imagine your family hated being left out of the New York business. And I imagine after they were hunted down after my grandfather’s murder and forced back to Georgia, all trade routes cut by the Volkov Bratva, that your family and the Jakhuas became more resentful toward us than ever.” Talia’s hand slid down my face from my hair and she lifted my chin with her fingers, lifting her head to meet my eyes. “I imagine growing up as the Kostava heir, you were filled with an intense hatred for my family.”

I nodded silently. Talia’s lips tightened.

“I know this because I’ve had a great hatred for your family my whole life, Zaal.” Talia laughed a humorless laugh. “And I can honestly say it has brought me nothing but pain.” Talia’s finger stroked over the moles below my left eye, and asked, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to let go of that hatred now. Those people back then were not us. It was a lifetime ago, a history that we can’t change.” Her chin dropped. “I know your version of that story will no doubt differ from mine, but I pray it ends the same. With you wanting me, with you being with me despite our surnames causing a drift.”

I stayed unmoving for the longest time, listening to the sea, feeling the cold wind hit my skin. Talia didn’t say anything more, but I knew one thing: I felt exactly the same.

Taking Talia’s freezing hand, I got to my feet, pulling her with me.