Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 90 - 92

Chapter 90: Chapter 92

GIANNI POV

The glass whiskey teeters towards my mouth before I inhale the last few ounces. My eyes stray to the standing frames poised on the mantle, pictures of my son, including the one that was taken from me. Anger spikes and I hurl the glass in the maw of the flagstone hearth as it shatters on impact. I grab the whiskey from the side table to drink it straight from the bottle with my face inclined.

"Papa?"

I splutter a few drops as a few dribble down my chin. I lurch, catching a glimpse of my youngest’s small silhouette as I jerk my torso aside to plant the bottle on the other side of the armchair I’m seated on.

"What’s that?" Tommy asks.

"Daddy’s apple juice—what are you doing up?"

I narrow my eyes at him as the fuzzy shapes blur into a single form. Tommy fiddles with something taut in his small fist, barely looking at me as I can barely see him. I beckon him closer with a mere motion of my hand. He shuffles forward in his Spiderman pajamas and when he’s close enough, my hands lock under his armpits to hoist him onto my lap. I don’t even ask. My arm coils behind his back to secure my hold as I just move my other hand in front of him with my palm exposed expectedly. Tommy’s hand sways over to hover above mine as he slowly unfolds his fingers to reveal Xavier’s signet ring.

The anger, the burning anger doused by a deluge of despair that’s all too sobering. My hand still under Tommy, slides out and over with a tentative pinch to inspect the ring with his initials engraved in the gilded round face. A searing behind my eyes as my thumbs bends to graze the gold, a rush of memories flood my mind from when Xavier was small enough to fit on my lap.

"Papa."

Tommy’s small hands cup my face, turning it so I’m forced to meet his gaze. His wide eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his lip trembling as he holds back the flood.

"Crying is for crybabies," he says, parroting the mantra I’d carved into his impressionable mind. The words hit me like a sucker punch, not for their defiance, but for the revelation they carry—my mistake.

I taught my sons what it means to be a man—or at least, my flawed version of it. How to walk, talk, command respect, and crush opposition. I made Akio believe Xavier was an unloved rebel, reckless and estranged, when the truth couldn’t be further away. Xavier wasn’t the disappointment; he had the raw and unharnessed potential to surpass even me.

Every father with multiple sons knows the archetypes: the golden child and the black sheep. Xavier’s volatility, I realize too late, wasn’t defiance but emotional immaturity. And now, looking at Tommy, I see the legacy I’ve passed down—teaching my boys to bury their feelings, to lock away their pain.

"Cry," I say, my voice low but firm. "It’s okay to cry."

He stares at me, uncertain, his small voice trembling. "You don’t cry," he whispers, almost afraid to call me out.

"I should and you should too because it doesn’t make you any less brave or strong," I say as I allow the tears to fall and now I can’t stop them even if I wanted to. "A real man confronts his fears and pain. He doesn’t run from it or pretend it isn’t there. And I know it hurts, you were closer to Xavier than out of all your brothers."

His face lowers slightly. "He was the only one who would take me on his business trips when the other said I was too young. I only stayed in the hotels but when he got back, we’d play playstation all night and r–room service—" he breaks into a sob.

His face contorts tightly as he buries himself in my chest and I enfold him in my embrace, wishing I had the strength to shield him from this pain, an anguish that shall bleed into our futures. I try to console him as he screams-cries in my chest, letting out everything, all too big for his small body to bear the burden that is beyond the measure of grief.

My awareness is so attuned to my son, my senses clouded by emotions and alcohol still warm in my blood. I notice too late that one of my men has entered my drawing room with the awkward stance of an apologetic teenager.

"Sir—"

"Get the fuck out."

"It’s important—"

"I am with my son, nothing is more important. I don’t care if whatever you have to say is from the devil himself. It can wait."

"It’s about Botan Kiyosaki."

My head whips around as I cradle my son to my chest.

He flutters up a folder in emphasis. I free one hand from Tommy to outstretch my arm with quiet urgency. Tommy has calmed down now, his heart-wrenching cries diminished to snotty whimpers. He comes over and I take the folder from him as I shift so I can examine the contents with both hands, Tommy bordered by my arms with one balancing the back with my other hand winnowing through.

"I don’t know how much this is worth, but it’s something."

As I flick through, my eyes swell with each revelation. "This is... everything. I need you to assemble a team and call the pilot. We need to get to Russia. Now."

He snaps an obedient nod and matches out of the room. My elbows settle on the arms of the chair as Tommy straightens in my lap with an inflamed face, red blotches under his watery eyes.

"You’re leaving?"

"Yes, but to honour Xavier’s tradition with you. You can come with me."

A smile illuminates his face, the red radiant as his eyes sparkle with mirth.

"Now, I am not be good at the stationplay like your brother, but I’ll learn."

Tommy giggles, a seraphic symphony. "Playstation, papa," he corrects. "Don’t worry, Xavier wasn’t too good but I’ll teach you like I taught him, too."

I’m pretty sure Xavier let him win, but I wasn’t about to tell my little tomato that.

Tommy slides of my lap and I take the chance to rise to my feet as I wobble and suddenly it feels like the floor is too far, reality elongating unnaturally as a savage wave barrels through me causing me to almost stumble back into my seat as I grip the chair’s arm to keep me somewhat upright.

"Papa, are you okay? Do you need your apple juice?"

I shake my head carefully as I attempt a smile. "No, thank you, my boy. But I need to say goodbye to your mother and tell her the ones who hurt Xavier are to be fucked—I mean—punished," I amend quickly.

***

I step down from the airstair of the private jet, each breath condensing in the iron grip of the Russian winter. The air bites sharply, slowing my blood to an icy crawl, while the pristine blanket of snow glimmers under a pale, steely sky. Vehicles stand in neat arc formation on the asphalt, engines humming in readiness for our arrival.

Reaching the bottom, I extend a steady hand to my little prince who appears at the top, descending cautiously. His small boots crunch against the metal steps, his movements deliberate as he leans into my grasp, one step at a time, his tiny gloved fingers clutching mine for balance.

"Tommy, you’re going to go off with Walker. He’s going to help you get settled, and I’ll be back soon because tomorrow. I have arranged for us to go snowboarding."

Tommy grins and springs where he stands, excitement flicking him up before he darts towards me to grip me in a happy hug. I hold onto him as I kiss the top of the head, signaling to Walker before I pull him away.

Tommy and I are separated as we are ushered into different cars, each with its own armed escort. I’ve kept security minimal because I know this entire region is under Yad Zmei control, led by Maksim, nothing happens without his sancion so since I’m here in his domain by his invitation. I am protected.

The journey stretches for hours, leading us beyond the steel city glazed with ice and snow, through a countryside blanketed in unbroken white. The landscape grows more dramatic as we ascend toward the summit, flanked by high valleys and jagged peaks piercing the sky like steel-tipped arrows.

At last, Maksim’s estate emerges atop a solitary iron mountain, its grandeur crowned with snow-capped towers reaching skyward. The property commands the landscape like a fortress of old, exuding both power and isolation. It takes nearly half an hour of winding ascent along a treacherous, snow-packed road with tyre-driven marks before the car halts at the main house—a sprawling structure three times the size of my own, despite mine being forged from the remains of an age-old castle.

I exit the vehicle to be received by two heavily armed guards. I’m only allowed one of my men to accompany me as the other four are expected to remain with the convoy. I comply as I follow with my of my own in tow as we’re led to one of the separated edifices, but this one is one of the smaller clusters that surround the main and massive building. The structure inside is completely open and dome-ceilinged with the interior and brick flooring like an empty old wine cellar. Except this earthen expanse is wreathed five bodies dangling upside down, bound by their ankles with rivulets of blood streaming from each of them to spill into the river of blood at his feet. The stonework is stained with glistening pools as lifeless groans leak from their mouths.

Maksim emerges, sulking from the shadow, wearing a crown of blood as a thousand streaks of red run down his face, drenched in blood from his head to his hands—even soaked through his shirt. His skin is dull white, not like snow but the hollow grey of a fresh corpse about to decay.

"I hear you have something for me," he says in that guttural Russian accent.

"Da," I say as I lift a hand in a silent summons.

One of my men steps forward to slot the folder inside my hand. I take it to offer it to Maksim but he makes a pointed gesture with blood-drenched hands. I nod tersely as I come closer, swiveling to stand at his flank so I can open the folder,slanting near him as I’m hit with the odour of entrails, the stench of death clinging to him as I sift through it for him as I only turn after his eyes have perused every picture.

"I know your hate for Haru runs deep. This is your way to him—to cut his power from the source. Botan."

"How can you be sure this isn’t one of his whores? He has many women, no?"

"No, that’s why she’s so special," I say as I rifle through until I reach the pictures of them walking hand-in-hand through a small town market in France. "Haru and other of his elite affiliates have their own roster but Botan only has one name on his list—and it’s her. As you know Botan isn’t just the head enforcer, he’s the brains of the entire operation—he runs everything. If you want to weaken Haru. You need to put down his dog."

I snap the folder close. "Is that something worth your time?"

"If it wasn’t, you’d be dangling with the rest of them."

My eyes leap to his stone-engraved expression before it cracks and he frees a throaty laugh as his face splits into a ravenous grin before he sets a huge hand on my shoulder to give me a vigorous shake. My head slowly turns to see the fresh blood print on my expensive fur draped over my shoulders.