"Many of those who sleep in the dust of the ground will awake, these to everlasting life, but the others to disgrace and everlasting contempt.”
His father was alive. The thought alone made the eldest son’s blood boil. To an onlooker, that simple fact seemed contradictory. He himself hadn’t attended the party at the Palace, yet there was no lack of his informants in attendance, and the news had reached him mere moments after it had been made known to the partygoers themselves. The questions that he knew were swirling in his siblings’ heads were not present in Kosta’s; the how and why were irrelevant to the Russian, the reasons nothing he would ever find sufficient. The emotion was reflected in his eyes, the ever-icy blue color appearing even more sinister, more bottomless, more wicked than ever before. They flicked around his office, the mansion that he’d occupied upon the death of his parents inducing an awful taste in his mouth.
“Вы должны были остаться мертвым, отец.”
The words were villainous, heinous, unbelievable, yet strangely silent, given the intensity of the man’s emotion. The Russian rose, the large exhale reminiscent of a fuming predator just before the charge upon its prey.
“Liliya!” his voice was booming, the lack of his normally smooth, polite tone something Konstantin was more than aware the young woman would take note of. He heard the door open in the next instant, his gaze that was resting on the front lawn of the Vorshevsky mansion unwavering. “Summon my father’s dear friend Andrei, send him up to my office. I want you to call down for a car, as well as to summon the pilot, I’ll be taking a trip this evening.”
The young blonde nodded, although Kosta didn’t see, and the door to his office closed once again, the Russian aware that the reoccurring nightmare that had been the hellhole of Launceston was nearly over. A maniacal smile should have crossed his face, the thought of returning home something that had always delivered a gleeful expression to his features, yet he remained stone cold, not a single muscle wavering.
“I gave up my life to stand with you.” His voice was bitter, malicious, unforgiving. “I’ve done nothing but build your empire, better this family, expand the business. I’ve sacrificed my political career, my home, my own business ventures to be in this hellhole.” The volume of his rant was raising with each syllable, yet somehow, still sounded as though he was speaking to the ghost of the man who had angered him, there in the office they’d both shared separately. “I avenged you,” he spat savagely, “waged wars in your name... all the while, you hid in secret.” Konstantin had wandered to the liquor cabinet, the aged bottles no match for the crazed babbles of a madman.
Bottles were flying a moment later as the Russian shouted obscenities in his native tongue, the crashing of the expensive glass and dripping of the alcohol down the walls reverberating in his ears, fueling the already-blazing fire. In the midst of the chaos, Andrei had entered, the elderly man now looking at the Russian powerhouse inquisitively, both curious about the mess and Konstantin’s less than perfect appearance.
“Konstantin, what’s happened?” his voice was familiar, a concerned undertone recognizable. Yet when the 6′4″ frame of the acting Russian boss turned to address the man, he was more than aware the meeting was nothing that he had been expecting. Kosta’s gaze was inquisitive, as a raptor’s staking their prey, the intelligence and stealth of the psychopath adding an element of calculation that was leave the victim questioning exactly what was about to happen. A smile finally crossed his lips as he slid the letter opener into the sleeve of his suit stealthily, the action unnoticed by Andrei. His expression was sinister, and as the Russian advanced towards his father’s confidant, the visitor had clearly realized that this visit would most certainly be his last.
“Your long-time friend is alive,” he muttered as he closed the space between himself and Andrei, Konstantin’s hand finding the older man’s neck in the next moment. The Russian slammed him against the wall of the office, no doubt leaving a dent in the drywall, yet it was irrelevant. His prey’s wide eyes were frantic, pleading, yet the Russian was fixated on the portion of the neck he could see, the familiar pulse of the carotid artery coaxing an even wider smile from the predator. “I’m not sure he’ll be thrilled to see you when he returns to take his throne,” Kosta spoke, his voice patronizing as he extracted the letter opener from his sleeve in one swift movement. He didn’t wait for the man to try and speak before he jabbed the instrument into the artery, the appearance of blood only an instant afterward.
Konstantin released the man’s neck, watching him fall to the floor as the blood drained quickly, his victim’s anguished look frozen forever on his face after a mere twenty seconds. He stepped over the body, the crime having not giving him quite the pleasure that was normal following such an act. He hadn’t escaped a dousing of his sufferer’s blood, yet it was irrelevant. The eldest Vorshevsky placed the letter opener in his jacket pocket, opening the door and exiting the office, wearing the blood as he would a badge of honor.
The blonde sat at her small desk outside the door, an audible gasp she was unable to hide passing her lips at the sight of Konstantin. He shut the door to the office behind him, the devilishly handsome, sinister smile natural on his lips, as if he was completely unaware of the bloody stains he wore. “Is the car waiting downstairs, Liliya darling?” his voice was smooth, confidence exuding from each syllable he spoke.
“Yes, Mister Vorshevsky.”
“Wonderful,” he noted gleefully, his predatory stare scanning the younger woman. “Do be sure to only allow my father into my office,” he spoke evenly, still debating about the fate of the woman’s life, even as he gave her clear instruction. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty of work to do upon his return... he’ll be ruling my kingdom, after all.” Before he exited the mansion, the Russian reached for Liliya’s face, his blood-stained hand brushing her cheek, the woman’s trembling figure only serving to widen Kosta’s smile. “Have a very Happy New Year, my darling.”
And with that, Aleksandr’s eldest son descended the stairs and slipped into the car waiting for him outside, not bothering to pack his things or say goodbyes. That night he vanished, the only evidence of his presence in the new year the bloody footprints he’d trailed through to the door, and the corpse that lay near the abandoned throne.
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