INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 84
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
Can you imagine my surprise when Dexter, who had been relentlessly busy for the past week, suddenly looked me dead in the eye and questioned my trust in him?
Who does that? I had elevated him to the position of my second-in-command, my right-hand man. So why the hell would he even think to ask such a thing?
Wasn’t that enough to demonstrate the depth of my trust? Do I need to drop to my knees and propose an oath of loyalty before he gets it through his thick skull?
“It’s not. I’m about to tell you something very important for your mission.”
My mission?
A jolt of alarm shot through me, and I sprang from my seat, the leather creaking beneath me as I processed his words. “What about my mission?”
“I found out something. A missing piece that completely throws your own fixed puzzle off.”
The air grew thick with tension, the weight of his revelation hanging heavily between us. My heart raced, anticipation clawing at my insides.
What could possibly disrupt the plans I had meticulously crafted? The dim light cast sharp shadows across Dexter’s face, illuminating the seriousness etched in his features. In that moment, I knew whatever he had to say could alter everything.
“And what is it?” I asked, my voice eerily calm, a façade that betrayed the storm raging within me.
My mind churned with every possible outcome, a chaótic whirlwind of thoughts that twisted like a maze, overwhelming and consuming, only adding to the turmoil churning in my gut.
“You know that day when your parents were killéd.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded, the memory creeping back like a shadow. “It was… it is not who you think it is.”
“Dexter,” I said, gritting my teeth, my voice strained as if each word was a struggle to contain the fury welling inside me. “I need you to go straight to the point. Who killéd my parents if not Kyle Walker?”
“Your uncle, Ivan Morozov.” The moment those four words escaped his lips, I scoffed, laughter bubbling up—an instinctive reaction to the absurdity of it all.
Hilarious, even. Comical at its best. Impossible. Unbelievable. There was no way Ivan could do such a thing.
I refused to accept it. He was my father’s brother, my one and only uncle. Why the f+ck would he want his own flesh and blood déad?!
Agitation simmered within me, transforming into a seething fury at the audacity of his claim. Dexter must have sensed the lethal glare on my face because he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his eyes wide with the realization of the storm he had unleashed.
With deliberate intent, I moved from my seat, each stride purposeful as I closed the distance between us. He held my gaze, unflinching, unblinking under the weight of my fury. “You’ve got two minutes to explain why you think so, or I swear on my parents’ graves, I will blów your brains oút.”
“The estate where your house was located was the type of place where visitors could come and go, with the residents’ permission,” he began, the tension in the air thickening. “In this case, your childhood home…” He paused, an unnecessary delay that grated on my nerves. “Ivan was a regular visitor, so the estate’s security never alerted your parents whenever he was there. That day, he was there—and he wasn’t alone.”
No. No, this can’t be.
It can’t be possible. I refuse to believe it.
My uncle wouldn’t do that. I knew it in my bones.
“He was with Cassian.” I spoke the name like a prayer, hoping against hope that I was wrong, but the shake of Dexter’s head crushed that flicker of hope.
“Cassian was already déad. He díed a week before that day, and you know it. Ivan was with two men—the same two men you killéd after you turned eighteen. The men he helped you catch, of course, it was easy for him because he knew their whereabouts; they worked for him. Dominic—Ivan drove them to the estate.”
The room seemed to close in around me, the weight of his words settling like a stone in my stomach. I could feel the blood drain from my face, the world tilting on its axis, and reality blurring into a haze of disbelief.
“Dexter.” I called out, my voice dripping with a warning that brooked no further argument. The undeniable truth lay heavy in the air, thickening the atmosphere like a storm brewing on the horizon.
Kyle Walker was my parents’ killér. It had to be him—he was the only one who deserved to face my wrath. He had always been the one lurking in the shadows, a malignant presence in our lives.
I had dedicated countless days to unearthing the dark secrets of that fateful night, and every thread of evidence wove back to him. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place with chilling clarity.
My father had recently partnered with Walker, their agreement forged in ambition. My father’s net worth towered over Walker’s, a fact that must have gnawed at him, seeping into his mind like poisón and driving him to the brink of desperation.
Whispers of Walker’s failing ventures drifted through the corridors of high society, and I could almost hear the echoes of those conversations infiltrating his thoughts, pushing him toward the unthinkable.
But it wasn’t just speculation—I had overheard the very men who pulled the triggers, their voices laced with grudging respect as they uttered his name: Kyle Walker. Each syllable felt like a dagger, piercing my resolve.
It had to be him. It simply could not be my uncle. The evidence was irrefutable; the CCTV footage from that day showed no trace of him on the estate. I had scrutinized the file, replaying it until the images blurred in my mind.
“And before you say it, the CCTV video you have? It was falsified. I possess the original, Dominic. I swear to you, I’m not lying.” Dexter’s words crashed against my defenses.
“Stop! I’ve heard enough.” I snapped, the weight of the moment crashing down on me like a tidal wave. A sharp pain throbbed in my temples, each pulse echoing my frustration. “Go.”
“Dominic…”
“Leave!” I roared. The sound reverberated in the room, a raw, primal scream that demanded obedience. “Get out, Dexter! Get out!”
My uncle would never betray my father. He wouldn’t be capable of such treachery. I knew him—the warmth of his character was the very foundation of our family’s bond.
The door slammed shut, and I felt the air shift around me, charged with a mixture of fury and despair. I turned to my desk, ready to hurl everything off its surface, but my gaze snagged on a flash drive sitting innocuously amid the chàos
My heart raced as I glanced between the door and the flash drive. Why had Dexter left it behind? I had no intention of touching it, let alone delve into whatever secrets it contained.
I trusted my uncle. Every fiber of my being was anchored in that trust.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, drawing my attention like a moth to a flame. My head whipped around, rage boiling just beneath the surface, raw and untempered
Genevieve.
In that moment, her presence did nothing to quell the storm within me. Instead, it ignited a deeper fury. She stood before me, her eyes brimming with concern, that same familiar look of love that I suddenly found suffocating.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing, but it only sent me spiraling into a manic laughter that echoed through the room, unsettling and erratic.
And perhaps I was losing my grip on sanity.
“Genevieve,” I said, my voice sharper than intended. Her steps faltered, surprise flickering across her face at the use of her full name—an invocation of intimacy I hadn’t dared to utter in far too long. “Please leave.”
“Dom…”
“Now!” I snapped, the command slicing through the tension like a knife. She flinched, and I felt the pang of regret, but it was eclipsed by my desire for solitude. “I want to be alone. Just go, Genevieve. Please.”
TBC
