Insatiable Cravings – Episode 115

  

 

INSATIABLE CRAVINGS

Insatiable Cravings – Episode 115&116

Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game} 

TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.

Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.

By: Chukwuma Rejoice 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

~ Dominic ~

You’re already too late.

The words hung in the air like the reek of something foul—clinging, inescapable. They wormed into my skull, repeating in a maddéning loop until they lost all meaning. Just noise. Too late. Too late. Too late.

I stared down at Blade. Smug bastàrd, still grinning despite the blóod trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looked like a man who held a secret—one he was too much of a cowàrd to bury and too much of a traitōr to protect.

I stepped back, breathing through my nose, each inhale sharp and laced with the metallic tang of blóod. Rage coiled tight in my chest, fists clenched so hard my knuckles cracked. But lashing out wouldn’t get me what I needed. Not now.

“F+ck,” I muttered under my breath.

He laughed. A horrid, gurgling thing that scraped down my spine. “Don’t pańic just yet, Boss.”

I turned on my heel, refusing to give him another second of my gaze. My eyes found her across the room—always her. As though the air itself bent to lead me back to her.

She leant against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and watchful. Not frightened. Just alert. Always reading me, dissecting me in that way that made me feel too seen.

Then she asked for something mad—five minutes alone with Blade—and of course I agreed. Because saying no to her has never been something I’ve excelled at.

The door hissed open. I stepped out without a word, the door slamming behind me with the finality of a coffin lid.

Dexter was already outside, watching the feed on the iPad like a hawk. His entire frame was stiff, bristling with tension.

“Why’d you leave her alone with him?” His voice was low but edged with fury. And worry.

“She’s fine.”

“But what if he does something?”

“We’re right here.”

“Dominic.” He looked up then, eyes sharp, troubled. “Don’t underestimate Blade. He’s one of the best assassiń here—one of yours. You trained him, remember? If he wants to húrt her, he could do it before we even blink.”

Húrt her?

The thought lodged like a splinter in my mind. I pushed it down, hard, and moved to stand beside him. Together, we stared at the screen.

Genevieve didn’t look scared. Not until he called her sweetheart. The moment that word left his mouth, I saw red. My vision blurred and my hand itched to smàsh something—preferably his face.

He’d spoken more to her in the last few minutes than he ever had to me—or Dexter, despite the mess of injuries Dexter had inflicted.

“Do you believe him?” Dex asked.

I scoffed. Then paused. “I don’t know.”

And that frightened me more than anything.

I always knew. That was my strength—my instinct, my ability to see ten moves ahead while everyone else was still figuring out the board.

But now?

Now I was fumbling in the dark, reaching for a thread that kept slipping through my fingers.

“I want a list,” I said. “Everyone who’s had access to our intel in the last three months. Names. Faces. Digital footprints. No one’s above suspicion.”

If there’s a ‘He’, I thought, the word bitter in my mind, then Blade’s not the only one he’s turned.

“I’ll get Echo on it,” Dexter replied, quick and solid.

I nodded once. Grateful in a way I didn’t have words for. He never hesitated. Never questioned. Just stepped with me, right into the fire.

But I was scared.

Scared that this wasn’t some external thréat, but rot—spreading from the inside.

And worse? That the people closest to me might already be infected.

Could Dexter be one of them?

The thought made my stomach twist with shame. How could I even think that?

He’s been with me through everything. Loyal. Steady. Unshakeable.

Right?

And Echo? Sal? The others I’d handpicked myself?

The screen pulled my attention back as I heard her name tumble from Blade’s lips.

My sister.

The gall. I didn’t even look at him. My eyes stayed fixed on Genevieve, who—though trying to remain composed—looked like she needed an out.

Her doubt was seeping in. I knew her tells.

I didn’t wait. I stormed in, cutting him off mid-sentence.

He smirked, bloody teeth on show. “Your guard dogs are here.”

I ignored him. My gaze locked on Genevieve—the woman I’d burn the world for.

“I’ll kíll him,” Dexter muttered behind me, not bothering to whisper. “I’ll fúcking tear him to fúcking pieces.”

“Calm down, Dexy,” Blade sneered. “You don’t want to prove my point, do you? Acting like a rabid mutt on command?”

“Genevieve?” I said, my tone too clipped to hide how desperate I was to leave. “Let’s get out of here.”

But she didn’t move. She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Reading him.

That’s always her final tactic whenever she thinks someone’s lying—she stares, trying to read the truth from their eyes. That’s exactly what she did the night I broke up with her. She tried to study me. Tried to see through the cracks. So I made dàmn sure I didn’t give her any.

So, I waited. Gave her a moment to do her thing. A low sigh slipped past her lips, soft but unmistakable—resignation, sharp and bitter.

“Gen—” 

She cut in straightaway. “Fine. Let’s go.”

••

We were back home, and Genevieve’s mood hadn’t lifted an inch since we’d left the Base. She hadn’t said a word. Still brooding. That slimy bastàrd had ruinéd her spirit, and I loathéd how powerless I was to fix it.

She trusted him. Welcomed him into the fold. And he repaid her with betrayal. Us too. Even Aurora—my sister—who’d practically treated him like family.

It’s all blóody twisted. Messed up in ways I can’t even begin to untangle. Messed up in the way that I still don’t have a f+cking clue who “He” really is.

F+cking hell.

My hand was clenched so tightly around the steering wheel I hadn’t even noticed. Knuckles white, tendons straining. Neither of us moved to get out of the car, despite the stale, suffocatińg tension closing in like a noose.

Too far in our own heads to bother. The silence thickened, clashing with the artificial chill of the air conditioning until the car felt like it might implode.

“He said he isn’t stuck there.” Her voice cut through the quiet like a scalpel. “Even with him cuffed, even with the cameras everywhere—he looked me deàd in the eye and said he wasn’t stuck. That he’s simply biding his time to leave.”

She turned, fixing her eyes on mine—eyes I was already watching. “What do you think it means?”

My eyelids felt heavy as I let them fall, then opened again. The same dreaded sentence hovered on the tip of my tongue. “I don’t know.” I exhaled deeply, every inch of me weary. “I don’t know what anything means anymore.”

“There was…” She hesitated, shaking her head slightly. “Never mind. I’m probably imagining things.”

I was about to press—because I need every scrap of information I can get about whoever the héll “He” is—but she opened the door and slipped out before I could speak. I was on her heels, catching up, moving fast enough to block her from the front door.

Her cool blue eyes flicked up to mine, expectant. Waiting. Maybe for an explanation.

“What was it? The thing you think you imagined?”

“I told you—it’s nothing.”

“Genevieve.”

She huffed. “It’s stúpid.”

“Nothing you say is stúpid,” I replied firmly. “If you noticed something—especially during that conversation with Blade—it fúcking matters. So tell me.”

“Blade is—”

“What?” Aurora’s voice rang out behind her, sharp and irritated. “What is Blade? Go on, spit it out.”

Genevieve turned to her, brows tightening. “Why are you taking this out on me? I’m not Blade. So don’t go venting your frustrations in my direction.”

“Oh, should I vent them at you instead, Dominic?” Aurora’s voice was venomoús. “I bet you’re blóody thrilled right now. You got what you wanted—Blade’s guilty.”

“I don’t understand you, Rory.”

“What don’t you understand?!” she snapped, voice ricocheting off the walls. “Blade’s the one who bléw up the ship. He’s the traitōr. Just. Like. You. Said.” She shoved her fingers into her hair, dragging them through with a trembling hiss. “You must be fucking elated. Another name on your list. Another bódy to dispose.”

“Aurora, don’t be stupid—”

A new wave of fury washed over her face. “Oh,” she laughed bitterly, voice raw. “So I’m the stúpid one now? Not your girlfriend?” Her gaze swung to Genevieve. “No offence.”

But I took offence—for both of us. I stepped forward, forcing Aurora further into the hall.

“What the héll is wrong with you?”

“You,” she spat.

“Do you even realise how foólish you’re being?”

“Oh, I’m foólish now?” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Go ahead—tell me how foólish I am being.”

“Listen—my whole life, I’ve poured everything I have into the Bràtva. My time. My energy. My f+cking soul. Even before I became Don.” I took a step closer. “And I didn’t stop there. Why? Because of you. Because I had a sister to look after. My responsibility.”

I could see her crumbling, but the words just kept coming.

“I built my company from the ground up to give you the life you have now. Your fancy cars. Your endless spending. That’s all me. I gave you everything.”

I was right in front of her now. Breathing hard.

“Why?” My voice cracked. “Because I love you.”

The tears came fast now, slipping down her cheeks, but I couldn’t stop.

“So sue me, Aurora. F+cking sue me. Because I’ll dié before I let anyone take you from me. Or destróy what I’ve built with my own two hands. So f+ck Blade. And f+ck anyone who dares to cross me. I will eńd them. Without blinking.”

Her voice broke, desperate. “How can you not care? It’s Blade, Dominic. It’s Blade for crying out loud!” She was sobbing openly now, raw and messy. “How do you just turn your feelings off like that?!”

My hands shook as I dragged in a breath, the memories clawing up my throat like bile. 

“Because I watched our parents die. I watched the bulléts tear through them. I saw them bleéding out in front of me.” My voice was thunder, filled with years of buried grief. “And what were you doing? Crying. Because you were a fúcking baby, and by the time I was ten, I had to be your parent while I was still mourning mine.”

Silence.

Silence, then the crash.

I watched her face break. Shatter like glass. Her shoulders folded inward as her world caved in.

Her voice was a whisper. Fractured. “I’m sorry… for being a burden to you.” Tears spilled, unstoppable now. “But they were my parents too.”

And with that, she ran upstairs, her footsteps echoing like gunshots before the door slammed shut.

What did I just do?

The silence that followed was loud.

Too loud.

Genevieve didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her presence behind me was solid, grounding—like she was holding the world still just by breathing. But my own breath came shallow and jagged, and it felt like the house had shrunk. Like the walls were too tight and pressing in.

What have I done?

I turned my back to the stairs, dragging both hands down my face. The roughness of my palms scraped against the stubble on my jaw. My skin was burning. My lungs tight. My heart… f+ck, my heart was pounding like it was trying to get out of my chest. I wasn’t even sure if it was anger or guilt anymore—maybe both. Maybe everything all at once.

“She hàtes me,” I muttered, voice raw, barely there.

“No, she doesn’t,” Genevieve said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Did you hear what I said to her?”

“She pushed you,” she replied gently. “And you pushed back.”

“She’s my sister, Genevieve. I should’ve never—” My throat closed up. “That’s not how you speak to someone you love.”

“No,” she said, stepping in front of me now, her hands reaching for mine, “it’s not. But it’s also not easy being you.”

Her fingers were soft against my skin, a contrast to the tight fists I’d been clenching all evening. She opened one of my hands, lacing her fingers through mine. “You’ve carried so much for so long, Dominic. You’re bound to crack. You’re human.”

I stared at our joined hands. Hers—cool, smooth, calming. Mine—veined, calloused, and trembling.

“She said she was a burden,” I whispered. “Do you know how f+cking painfùl it is to hear that from someone you’ve spent your whole life protecting?”

Genevieve nodded, her blue eyes glossy, voice gentle. “So go and tell her she’s not.”

“I can’t. Not right now.” I shook my head, shame curling like smoke in my gut. “I’ve already made it worse.”

“Then let it settle. Give her space. But don’t leave it like this.” She looked at me as if trying to memorise my face. “Don’t let this tear both of you apart. Sisters are for life.”

My chest ached.

God, she knew me too well.

“I’ll fix it,” I promised, more to myself than to her.

“I know you will,” she said, brushing her thumb over my knuckles.

A beat passed.

Then I looked at her—really looked at her—and saw it: the exhaustion behind her eyes, the tightness in her jaw, the way she was holding herself together by threads. All of this had cost her, too.

“Come here,” I murmured, tugging her in.

She didn’t resist. She stepped into my arms, pressing her cheek to my chest like she needed to hear my heartbeat to believe I was still real.

I held her tighter than I probably should’ve. Buried my face in her hair. Inhaled the scent of her shampoo—lavender and something warm I couldn’t name. It grounded me. Slowed the storm in my head, even if just for a moment.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” I whispered.

“No worries—that is what I get for dating a mafià boss” she whispered back.

We stood there for a long time. No movement. No words. Just the sound of one fractured soul and other soothing soul trying to breathe again.

Eventually, she pulled back slightly, looking up at me. “You should rest. Tomorrow might be worse.”

“Is that even possible?”

She didn’t laugh. Just gave me a look that said you know it is.

I nodded, releasing a breath. “Alright. I will drive you home, then check on Aurora later.”

“You sure?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I’ll do it anyway.”

She lingered for a moment, then pressed a kiss to my jaw—a quiet, wordless I’m here—before heading upstairs.

And I stood there in the hallway, staring at the stairs.

Listening.

Waiting.

Wishing I could take back every word that broke her—Rory.

But knowing I couldn’t.

Not tonight. 

TBC📖✍️

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