All it took for Vincent’s rage to subside were those damn eyes. Golden. Piercing. They gleamed back at him like molten gold under the dim lighting of his club. The boy that appeared, wore a suit typically worn by a Voltaire servant, light beads of sweat ran down his face as he ran into the hall, stepping over the trash that lay over the dance floor, he ran towards the three siblings, his face scrunched with determination.

Those eyes it made Vincent’s legs tremble and shake. It was as if the dead had returned from the grave. The boy was the spitting image of Cynthia Quinn. His most intimate memories, memories that at one point he held so deep in his heart, he’d betray his own family to keep alive, but had become nothing more than an ember long forgotten.

Yet those eyes had reignited everything all over again.

The memories of Cynthia, the woman he loved more than anything, the mother of his child. He looked again at the young man, his eyes shook deliriously. He looked like her. Like a clone. He had the same angular jawline, the same shaggy kind of hair. They even had the same nose. The grim reaper had taken the form of his lover as punishment.

“Who… who are you?” Vincent’s voice was ragged, his emotions barely in check as he pushed himself up from the floor. He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out, gently cupping the boy’s face as if touching a ghost. “Who are you?” he repeated, desperation coating his words. Was he real, or was he an affliction of his mind?

Creeped out by the man’s actions, Sabir ignored him and ran over to Elektra and Warren. “You guys okay? What the hell happened?” He got to Warren and made sure he was okay, holding his shoulders in comfort. Elektra simply watched from the corner of her eyes as she maintained her lock on Vincent.

Vincent slowly hobbled over towards Sabir. Elektra stood by as he went past her. She could only swear under her breath. “Damn it, this is what I was trying to avoid.”

“I’m fine, we told you to wait outside,” Warren lectured, as he brushed off the dust off his clothing from rolling on the ground.

“There was a huge explosion-” For the split second Warren was distracted from Sabir’s arrival, he didn’t notice Vincent edging closer towards them. Warren closed his eyes in fear, unsure of what his brother was going to do.

However, it wasn’t Warren he was walking towards. Vicent grabbed Sabir by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “What is your name”? He screamed, his eyes bloodshot. He watched as the young man didn’t respond and instead looked towards Elektra and Warren for help.

“Let go of me, man! The name’s Sabir, dammit, Sabir Quinn.” He tried peeling off the unknown assailant’s hands, but he held onto him with dear life, as if he was holding onto his own heart.

Vincent’s breath hitched as he stared at the boy before him, his mind struggling to reconcile the impossible. His eyes roamed over Sabir’s face, desperately searching for answers that seemed just out of reach. The name “Sabir Quinn” reverberated in his memory like a distant echo, a name he hadn’t connected to in years.

“Sabir…” Vincent whispered, his voice cracking as tears blurred his vision. The name stirred a long-buried recollection. The desperate pleas Cynthia made for her little brother living on the outskirts of Havana, in exchange for helping him, he would possess her. Out of his deep love for her, he did everything in his power to fulfill her wishes.

She had begged Vincent to use his influence to protect Sabir, to shield him from the dangers that loomed. So he had arranged for a limited-time pass to Havana and set up a place for him at The Beacon School in The Commons, a brief reprieve from the chaos that could kill him. It was a gesture made of love for Cynthia, a small effort to ease her fears.

But Vincent knew deep down, it was all an act, everything done intended to make Cynthia feel like he was her savior, to own all her love and ensure she only had him. At the time, he probably hated the name Sabir. He understood his selfishness too late and now he had been punished.

Now, staring into those familiar golden eyes, so strikingly similar to Cynthia’s, Vincent felt a cold shiver of recognition. The last time he had seen those eyes, Cynthia had been filled with worry, the day his father had given the decision that his family had to die. He had told Cynthia the whole truth, hoping she would run away with him. However, feeling betrayed, Cynthia ran away with Mia.

Those eyes that Sabir had differed from that tragic day, the aura surrounding her brother was unmistakable, a potent thirst for revenge, a young boy that wanted to point fingers at his oppressors. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel and twisted sense of humor, bringing the brother of the woman he had loved and betrayed back into his life at the most harrowing moment possible.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“It’s fate,” Vincent whispered, tears streaming down his face, “that you would be brought here to me.” His voice cracked as the reality of the situation bore down on him like a crushing weight. “I imagined the Triads would come for me first, but no…” Vincent’s voice grew hoarse with bitter irony, “it’s Cynthia’s brother that will kill me.”

Sabir’s eyes flashed with a mix of confusion and anger. “Why would I kill you?” he demanded, taking a step back from Vincent’s grip, the question heavy with suspicion.

Vincent’s heart pounded in his chest as he attempted to compose himself, but the emotional storm within him made it nearly impossible. He stared at Sabir; the tears continuing to fall. “Why… why did you come here if you didn’t know?” he asked, his voice trembling with pain.

Sabir’s expression hardened, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. “What is it I’m supposed to know?” His patience was wearing thin, the need for answers clawing at him.

Before Vincent could respond, Elektra cut in, her voice sharp. “Vincent, he’s an outsider. He doesn’t need to know anything.”

Warren, who had been watching the exchange with growing unease, now spoke up as well. “I want to know what you’ve been hiding from us,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Vincent’s sorrow twisted into frustration. “Shut up, both of you!” he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. “This doesn’t involve you.” He turned back to Sabir, his hands shaking as he grabbed the boy’s shoulders once again, looking him straight in the eye.

“I killed her,” Vincent confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I murdered Cynthia.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence; the room growing unbearably still as Sabir’s golden eyes widened in shock. Confusion, disbelief, and rage flared across his face in rapid succession. “You… killed my sister?” His voice was cold, each word dripping with venomous disbelief.

“Yes.” Vincent’s tears fell freely now, his body wracked with sobs as the weight of his confession settled in. “Yes, I did. I had no choice,” he cried, his fists clenched against Sabir’s shoulders.

Sabir’s shock morphed into a seething fury, his body shaking with rage. Without thinking, he lunged at Vincent, his hands closing around the older man’s throat, squeezing with every ounce of strength he could muster. “Why?!” Sabir’s voice was raw with pain and fury. “Why did you kill her?!”

Before Vincent could choke out a response, Elektra acted with lightning speed. Her leg snapped out in a vicious kick, catching Sabir in the chest and sending him sprawling backward. He hit the ground hard; the wind knocked out of him.

“Stay down!” Elektra barked, her voice a cold warning as she placed herself between Sabir and Vincent.

Sabir struggled to breathe, his chest heaving as he glared up at Vincent with murder in his eyes. “Why did you kill my sister?” he demanded again, his voice rasping with barely contained rage.

After being frozen in shock, Warren finally spoke. “Wait… you had a kid?” His mind raced as he started piecing together the fragments of the past, Cynthia arriving at their estate years ago, being treated with an unusual amount of respect and care, only to vanish just as mysteriously. “Was Cynthia…?”

Vincent, still crying, nodded weakly, his voice a broken whisper. “We had a child. Mia. Once Mia was born, there was no stopping it. It was all going to end badly. The family… They ordered me to kill Cynthia. To erase all evidence.”

Sabir’s eyes blazed with newfound understanding and raw, unbridled hatred. “Not only were you Cynthia’s lover, but you’re the kid’s father,” he spat, the words dripping with contempt. The pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together, but the picture they formed was one of unrelenting pain and betrayal. “I’m going to kill you,” Sabir swore, his voice low as he struggled to his feet, his muscles coiled with tension.

“No, you’re not.” Elektra’s voice was ice cold as she planted her foot down, pinning Sabir to the floor with a ruthless finality. “Stay down, kid. This isn’t your fight.”

But Sabir’s rage was like a wildfire, consuming him from the inside out. “It is my fight!” he shouted, struggling against Elektra’s hold. “He killed her! He killed my sister!”

Warren, still reeling from the revelations, couldn’t stay silent any longer. “What happened to the kid?” he questioned, his voice shaking as he tried to wrap his mind around the horror unfolding before him.

Vincent’s sobs intensified as he clutched his head in his hands, his voice a ragged plea. “Noah… Noah’s going to find her. And he’ll kill her, just like they killed Cynthia.”

The room descended into a suffocating silence. Vincent’s confession pressed down on them like a tidal wave. Warren and Sabir wrestled with the shocking truth, each in their own turmoil. Warren’s mind spun as he forced himself to remember fractured memories of Cynthia’s mysterious disappearance with this horrific revelation. Sabir felt his initial shock giving way to a blistering rage that surged back with terrifying intensity.

Elektra, however, stood apart from the chaos of emotions swirling next to her. She remained unphased, her expression cold and unmoved. She had always known the truth, had been complicit in it, even, and Vincent’s words were simply a reminder of the grim reality she was helping to bring about. Her calm demeanor in the face of such turmoil was chilling. The truth was out, but for Elektra, it was simply a reminder of what it means to be a Voltaire.

“Mia…” Sabir whispered. “She’s just a kid…”

Vincent’s head jerked up, his tear-streaked face twisted with agony. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so, so sorry.”

But Sabir couldn’t hear him. One singular thought, a burning desire that threatened to consume him whole, already filled his mind. He was going to kill Vincent. There was no grand heroism to his goal. No. He was simply going to murder the man that stole his family from him.

As he lay pinned under Elektra’s foot, his mind churned. It wasn’t just Vincent, the entire Voltaire family was to blame.

“I’ll burn it all to the ground.”

But for now, all he could do was stare into the eyes of the man who had destroyed his world and wait. The Voltaires end was coming, and he would show no mercy when it arrived.