Page 35 of Oblivion
Italians were a force of their own, but they wanted more, just like we did. They weren’t happy with only holding the North. They wanted a lot more, and we were the key to that. Well, my bloodline was a key to that.
My eldest daughter would be the key to that if I ever had one. I just hoped that one day he would change his mind, but something told me that he wasn’t a man that often did that. If Ophelia and I ever smoothed out our differences and decided to have a family one day, I knew she would never forgive me for this. But it was already done, and there was no going back.
We agreed to hold a meeting, three weeks from now, in Ventus City, and I knew in my gut that I'd made the right choice. But at what cost?
“Storm?” Atlas’s voice traveled toward me as he opened the door of my office, softly knocking on the wood. “I need to talk to you.”
I didn’t like the tremble in his voice, or the way he observed me with those big, blue eyes of his. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong, and that feeling I’d been trying to push away came back in full force, slamming in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I stood up, rounding the table and going straight toward him. Atlas walked slowly inside the office, keeping the door open. I saw Indigo standing there, his face upturned toward the ceiling, his eyes closed, the fear evident in his posture.
I looked from him to Atlas, who kept looking at the floor instead of me, as if he feared meeting my eyes.
“Atlas?” I approached him, questions lingering in the back of my mind. “What happened?”
“I don’t know how to say this,” he answered, his voice breaking with anguish. “I really don’t know how to say this.”
His head shook, his hands on his hips, but he still couldn’t look at me.
“I thought it would never happen, you know? I thought it could never happen. Not like this.”
“Atlas.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Buddy, you’re not making any sense. What happened? Why do you both look as if somebody—”
And then it dawned on me.
Someone had died. Someone both of them knew.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmured. “Is it Zoe? What happened, Atlas?” I asked him and then looked at Indigo, who slowly came inside the room. “Indigo? Is it Zoe? Why are you both looking like this?”
“I need you to sit down, Storm,” Indigo mumbled, his anguished eyes finally connecting with mine. “I really, really need you to sit down.”
“Fuck no!” I thundered. “I’m not a cripple. I don’t need to fucking sit down. Just tell me what’s going on.”
“They said it happened fast,” Atlas started. “The fire… The fire swallowed it whole, and they couldn’t… Oh, God,” he sobbed, turning his back to me. “I can’t tell him, Indigo. I can’t fucking tell him.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, getting impatient with the lack of the answers. “Indigo?” I looked at him just as he leaned back against the wall. “Tell me what is going on, for fuck’s sake!”
Seconds ticked by, but it felt as if hours had passed before either one of them started talking. My mind raced, creating imaginary situations that might have happened. Something bad happened. I had never seen either one of them behaving this way, ever.
Not even after Las Vegas.
Not even after I had just woken up.
We’d been through hell and back together, but these two men couldn’t even look at me right now.
“If you’re not going to tell me—”
“It’s Ophelia.” Indigo was the first one to speak up, closing his eyes as soon as her name rolled off his tongue.
“What?” I stumbled as I took a step toward him. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Indigo!” I thundered. “Tell me what is going on. What about Ophelia?”
“Ophelia is dead, Storm,” Atlas murmured sadly as he turned around to look at me. “They found her body in—”
“No.” I shook my head, taking a step back from him. “That’s not true.”
“It’s all over the news, Storm,” Atlas continued. “She was in the cabin, not too far away from here.”
“No.” I rejected even the thought of it. “She can’t be dead,” I mumbled, looking at the floor. “She can’t be dead,” I repeated, unable to comprehend the news.
