Chapter 75

It was taking a lot of her strength not to shiver before him, her hands still at the sides of her gown, watching his eyes travel down her body and finally up to her face. And to her surprise, a little sick smile tugged at his lips, brightening his tired face.

His other hand rose and caressed her hair, a strand trailing down his hands as he returned it to his side. "We are even now," he said lightly, almost happily, making her grow confused.

She could feel her rage seeping in, and it was all she could do not to cry it out in front of him. She was disappointed and frustrated. She was this close. How could he do this to her?

How could he think they were even because she had shot him? A hundred of his life could not make up for everything he did to her.

She opened her mouth when he quickly raised his fingers to his lips. "Hey," he whispered, "not one word; your luck might run out."

She looked away from him, defiance on her countenance, her ears itching as she heard him chuckle away. He held her chin, turning her face so her eyes were back on him.

"Don't fucking look away when I talk to you, his fingers jacked her neck, raising her face to his, "You've become so cold. You pulled the fucking trigger on me, ready to kill me."

"I wish you had died." She muttered up to his face; she wanted him to do something—hit her or maybe slam her against the wall over and over again till her back hurt—not stare at her like that, with that bitter smile.

"We've become so alike," he tipped his head to the side, watching her, "cold and heartless, fit for Donna." He released her, his hand at the curve of her back, pulling her into a hug, enjoying as she gasped and stiffened against his body.

How he loved catching her unawares. Her face was gold with the shock, her lips parted, and her nose struggled to breathe.

"Except," he whispered against her head, "next time, it won't be me."

He kissed her hair, muttering painfully now, "How did we become this, Maya? At one time, we were happy."

Maya shut her eyes—was he dreaming? They had never been happy; the only reason she stayed was that he forced her to. What the heck was he saying?

His voice turned soft. "Maya, let's start over."

For once, this didn't sound artificial; it was made of pure emotions. His fingers went from her waist to her hair, fingers in her hair as he muttered, "You knocked me out of my stand." He pushed her back so he could look into her face. "I just want it real this time, on your terms."

Her brows furrowed when he reached into his pocket and brought it up to her face so that she could see the ring made with a green stone gleaming against the bulb.

She looked back at his face. He held her wrist, looking at the dark ring on her fingers, and then, to more of her surprise, he asked again, "Or maybe you'll rather wait?"

She couldn't believe what was happening; she searched his face, and no, none of the sarcasm was there.

How she wished she could read his thoughts.

She nodded, and obediently, he put it back in his pocket.

She looked at his bloodshot eyes, down to his dried lips, even as he rubbed his eyes. He had suffered, just as she had.

Ignoring him was all it took.

Her shooting him was just the cherry on top.

*************

He watched his brother, now shirtless, walk mechanically to manage the pain that ate into his chest. Then seat down

Derinem knew that must have hurt a lot. What did she think when she pulled the trigger? He had his answers when he watched Damon hug her at the door.

She wasn't thinking.

Now he knew he had to make her escape out of the manor fast before she got sucked back into it to save the psychopath from his darkness.

"You didn't come to see me in the hospital, Derinem." Damon laughed, "I bet you got a bit excited when you heard it was on the chest."

Derinem shook his head, "You give yourself too much importance, little brother, trust me." Derinem shook his head, "I don't give a fuck about you."

"Why are you here?"

"It's about Maya."

"I should have known," Damon stood up. "I don't feel up to that; it won't end well."

Derinem crossed his legs; for years, he had avoided a face-off with Damon because his father had made him promise on his deathbed, but it only made the fucker bolder.

Now he was ready for every shit that was about to come flying.

He leaned back against his seat. "Look, Damon; I'm not asking; she's leaving the manor."

Damon laughed, looking at his brother like he had fallen from the sky. "Did you come in here drunk because I don't think you're in your right mind?"

"How many bullets will get zapped before you realize this shouldn't be?"

"Just keep out of my business," he said, "You did that before, and everything went just fine. Have you noticed that every time you interfere, bullets get passed around?"

Derinem stood up, raising his chin, and saying, "I won't make the same mistake again; watch out as she disappears right from under your nose."

He knew he shouldn't brag, especially when it was Damon, but right now, he was determined—if it was going to end all of them, then so be it.

This was a risk. Everything was at stake with Damon.

He straightened his jacket and walked to the door.

"Don't you wish you were this bold with Mother?" Damon's voice caught him at the door. 

"Get over it, dude; we were all helpless. I tried my best." Confronted by this, it showed how low Damon was willing to break him: "She was angry, and for God's sake, what did you want me to do?!"

Especially when he had been just ten! He could remember that day vividly. His mother's voice still rang in his ears.

*

"Derinem, I'm doing it for you alright," she caressed his hair, looking into his face, "you shouldn't have to share any of your rights with his son."

How could his then-little self tell her that Damon was her son and her hatred towards Xavier didn't have to affect them all?

Laura had little Maria in her hands and held a confused Damon by his wrist; he had no idea what she was up to, and maybe if he did, then what happened next could have been avoided.

She kissed him on the forehead, much to his annoyance. How many times was he going to tell her he hated that?

He watched her walk with Damon and Maria toward the end of the handrail and began to climb over it.

Panic rose to his chest, little brown pupils extracting, seeing the wind blow against her dress and hair.

He heard Damon's light voice as he pushed his face against Laura's skirt. "Mom, I'm scared."

##### "Sarà Veloce, piccolo, chiudi gli occhi"—"It's going to be fast, little one; just close your eyes,"—she replied.

Derinem's heart raced upon hearing Maria's cries.

Heart in his mouth, he ran back into the house, racing red and out of breath. "Father!" he screamed as he ran. He knew there was no time.

He couldn't bear to see his sibling smashed so severely.

Now, at his father's workspace, he found it locked. "Father," he slammed the door with his fist, "she's killing them. Father!"

He felt the rough, cold hands hold his arm, turning him to face her, her eyes searching his face. "Derinem, are you ok?"

He had shaken his head, eyes glistening, "she's throwing them away, Greta; she doesn't want them anymore."

Realization dawned on Greta's eyes as she left him, running out to the loft. Derinem slowly walked toward where he had left his mother.

He could hear Greta's voice. "Donna, No, don't do this; they are just children." Was she crying? "your children"

"They are not my children, damn it, they are his."

"Momma, No, mom, don't throw me." Damon cried, and Maria's loud wails hit his ears like a rushing wind.

"Shut up, you two!"

She screamed at them. Damon stopped, but Maria's wails could still be heard.

He came out of the shield; he could see them now, his mother moving close to the edge and Greta following her carefully, pleading.

And at that moment, time stretched. Damon turned his face from his mother's white gown; his teary eyes met Derinem's, and he mouthed whispers, his lips quivering, "Derinem, plea..." 

And that was when Laura fell off.

Greta followed immediately. 

He didn't know what would happen next. Hearing the screams as they all went down, he was too scared to check.

Even when Damon and Maria were brought back three days later, Derinem was still scared to see if it was their dead body.

Shock lived in him for over a month; even at his mother's funeral, he couldn't find the tears, and everything seemed void. Unreal. But nobody cared; all attention was on Damon.

But somehow, Damon never stopped blaming him after that, and even the look on Xavier's face told him he thought he was the problem.

*

Now he turned to Damon, "I'm tired of making up for what I didn't do, tired of letting you off the leash each time you cross me because I promised Father," he shrugged, "those days are over, Damon; it's time you take responsibilities."

Sarcasm was back with a smile at the corner of his lips. "That sounds like a big word." 

"One you've never taken in your life," he turned his back on Damon, resuming his trek towards the door, "she leaves tomorrow."