A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 6

It’s a terrible, terrible week.

Miran sat across his supervisor.

Yes, even he had someone he reported to.

“Tell me again why, you went to a Bratva wedding uninvited?”

Attorney General Sinclair Robinson sat in a black leather seat in his Armani gray suit. Black rectangle glasses framed his face. He was a middle-aged man with brown eyes and straight, black hair that was styled on his head. His lips stretched in a displeased frown as his gaze glared daggers.

Miran rested his hands against the armrest and leaned his back into the chair.

“Like I’ve said, she was being forced into a marriage.”

Sinclair’s frown deepened.

“And how is that related to the DEA?”

“I serve and I protect,” he simply replied.

“Why didn’t she call the police instead? She’s not a child.”

Miran wanted to laugh.

“She’s mafia. You think her people would let her leave that life? Typically, the only way out of it is death.”

“Now there’s no evidence that she is part of the mob,” Sinclair protested.

Holding in a remark, he stared at Sinclair’s tie, burning holes into it. “Her father is Adrian Sokolov.”

Sinclair shook his head in disbelief. “Look, I’m not upset that you helped her. I’m upset because you used your position for your goal. The law enforcement already has a bad rep in people’s eyes, and you’re fueling the fire.”

“What I did is different,” he protested.

Sinclair glared before continuing, “You used your firearm, and you took a few of the DEA squad with you at a private wedding. You were not authorized, nor did you have an arrest warrant. How is it different?”

“I didn’t shoot an innocent person,” he claimed, “They’re the mob.” He frowned. “Sasha was about to kill me. It’s self-defense, and I only shot him in the legs to make him lose his gun.”

“You could have helped her as Miran Demir, but you can’t use your title as Chief to get what you want. Plus, you didn’t run this through me,” Sinclair finished.

“Would you have agreed if I’d ask?”

Sinclair stayed silent before replying, “Probably not.”

“See, exactly, why I didn’t ask you,” he pointed out.

Sinclair gave a grim expression. “The Bratva wants her back. They’re making claims you kidnapped her. You’re just making enemies. Where is she now?”

He kept his mouth shut, not revealing anything.

“You’re not helping yourself or her, Miran. You’re putting me in a desperate position. This is not how things work,” Sinclair exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re in the wrong here. You need to return her.”

“I didn’t borrow her,” he grunted. “She came willingly. How do you know they won’t hurt her if she goes back? What if Adrian Sokolov kills her, thinking she revealed something to us?”

Sinclair arched an eyebrow.

“Does she know anything that can build a case against him?”

Miran grazed the hair on his chin. “I didn’t ask.”

“Maybe you should. She could be useful.”

Miran frowned. He didn’t like the idea of using her.

“If she talks, she could go into witness protection. That’s the only way I can think of protecting her,” Sinclair insisted.

“She might know nothing. She’s blind.”

He remembered how her innocent eyes faced in his direction, but they looked at his chest, instead of his face. He realized, she wasn’t reaching for his hand after all that day, she was offering her own. A pang of guilt hit him for misspeaking too fast, without thinking when he’d remarked about her being blind.

He hadn’t expected it to turn out to be true.

No one had ever mentioned that to him before, but then again, whenever his mother or Alexie started a conversation about Lada, he’d always shut them out. He didn’t live with them, and he drowned himself with fieldwork.

He’d never met her before that single meeting.

He hadn’t seen her entrance that day or a cane.

Lada’s eyes were always focused on the ground.

He’d assumed it was because of Adrian, her father’s fear, but now… it all made sense.

Sinclair spoke again, interrupting his thoughts.

“But she’s not deaf. She’s probably heard conversations.”

“Okay, I will ask her, but I don’t think she knows anything. The mob protects their women from their illegal businesses.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “And how do you know that?”

He changed the topic. “How much trouble I am in?”

“My superiors have pressured me to put you on administrative leave,” Before he could argue, Sinclair continued, “If you can get information from her, I wouldn’t have to. We could present a case that she knows something… but I am ordering you to stay away from Bratva territory.”

“I’m working on Adrian’s case,” Miran pointed out.

“And you can continue to do so,” Sinclair easily replied, “But you are to stay away from the Bratva.”

Miran frowned.

That also meant staying away from his parents.

“Alright,” he replied after a moment.

“Get some information from her. If she doesn’t know anything or refuses to talk, you have no choice but to return her.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Sinclair held up a hand.

What if she doesn’t want to leave?

“Don’t give a reason to fire you. That thought has crossed my mind already,” Sinclair replied. “You’ve been a good Chief, one of the best I’ve had, now don’t ruin it.”

He held in a silent sigh as he stood up, happy to leave but frowning at the dilemma he was stuck in. Exiting the room and closing the door behind him, he headed to his car parked outside while watching his surroundings.

As he slid into the driver’s seat, his gaze fell on the backseat where Lada’s cane lay. A small smile formed on his face. He’d purchased it for her. He’d been planning on going to the Sanctum Safehouse first thing in the morning, but he’d received a call from Sinclair and had to take care of things.

He started the engine with a rumble. Caught by a noise of vibration, he dug into his pocket for his cellphone. He glanced at the name before answering, “Selam, Baba.” Hello.

“What have you done, boy?” his father’s Kaya’s deep voice came on.

Miran hid a smile. “Just following your footsteps.”

His baba sighed, but he could tell he was smiling. “By rescuing damsels in distress? I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“Alexander isn’t pleased,” his baba commented.

I’m aware. “And Alexei?” Miran questioned.

His baba chuckled. “I think he’s probably cheering inside. He’s always liked Lada for you.”

“I didn’t take her for myself,” Miran replied. “I’m only doing my job, protecting an innocent.”

Even it’s from the predator inside of... me.

“I know. When are we going to see you again?”

He held in a sigh. “I’ve been ordered to stay away.”

“Gorusmek uzere.”

Hope to see you soon.

“Sasha is planning to place men around your home,” his baba warned. “He’s going to come after you, you know that, right?”

“Yes.” He already has.

Miran stared at the two black SUVs parked fifty feet away. They’d been following him since the morning.

“Your mother worries about you.”

“I’m fine,” he assured. “I’ll be in touch. Hoscakal,” he replied in Turkish.

Goodbye.

He hung up the phone and headed toward Viker’s Prison, the dangerous island. Maybe his mood would brighten by punishing the monster, Enzo Vitalli.

Keeping his eye on the rearview, he stared at the SUVs pulling out to drive the same time he did. Who was inside? Sasha? No, he probably had his men scouting him. He jotted down the number plates in his mind and made a mental note to run the plates later.

Miran drove in silence with no music. Traffic was heavy as usual, and he didn’t put on his siren. A piece of quiet with no noise would be nice for once. His shoulders were tensed as he pondered over Sinclair’s statement. What could Lada possibly know about her father’s business? She was a small, helpless young girl.

When he’d reached the prison, he parked his Ford. Glancing behind, the two SUVs stayed outside the perimeters of the jail. His mind stayed sharp, and his body prepared to fight. He had been waiting for them to attack him, but it never came. Heading inside the prison, he placed his weapons in the locker. He’d already ordered his men to bring out Enzo Vitalli in the interrogation time.

Time for round two.

He needed to blow off steam, and sparks of fury ran through his body. Hopefully, Vitalli still left fully intact today. Cracking the knots on his shoulder, he rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t recall when the last time was he’d taken a day off from work. It was always like this with him. His work had taken over his entire life, and he had no time for anything else. Alexei had wanted a wife for him. He scoffed at the idea as he pushed open the interrogation room’s gray metal door.

The former Don’s head lifted as his cold eyes met Miran’s.

Burn marks covered Enzo Vitalli’s arms, still red and bruised from three days ago. Some were deep enough to leave scars. Miran’s eyes brightened, and his heart filled with a gleam. His gaze fell on the steaming hot water bucket on the ground. Closing the door behind him, he stepped inside. Not bothering to sit down, he peered at the chained criminal from where he stood.

“You’re going to burn my body again. Might as well do it,” Enzo drawled.

Miran’s eyes fell on Enzo’s neck.

It was one of the spots on the former Don’s body that was left unburned.

“We’ll do something different today.”

Enzo’s eyes narrowed, and he stayed silent.

“Your neck is clean.”

Miran’s jaw ticked as his eyes fell on the tanned, unmarked portion. A flash of a vivid rose tattoo flashed in his mind. Sometimes, it hurt him to look at his mother’s neck. It wasn’t fair that she carried that extra deadweight on her skin. That cruelty she suffered permanently inked on her.

Enzo tilted his head.

“That’s your next tactic? Burn my neck?”

Miran crossed his arms over his chest.

“Confess or burn. Choose.”

“Who died and made you God?”

Miran uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the table in front of him. The words were at the tip of his tongue, but he gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t blurt out the truth.

You did. I live the way I do because of you.

His mind was disturbed because of the man in front of him.

Even though Enzo was in prison, Miran still had restless thoughts that in the future he might be free again.

“I’ve heard about your reputation from other leaders. I won’t deny that you don’t live up to the rumors. You do.” Enzo lifted his eyebrows. “Miran Demir, huh? Demir… that surname sounds familiar.”

Miran controlled a flinch and composed his posture. If he reacted, Enzo would connect the dots and figure out the truth.

Enzo’s eyes challenged Miran’s heated ones.

“I’m surprised that you’re DEA. You punish like… a Don.”

Miran narrowed his eyes.

Enzo was getting too close to the truth, and he needed to divert his attention fast.

You deserve to be punished for your sins.

Enzo smiled darkly. “It’s strange. A dangerous criminal mind in a Chief’s body. Your peace is damaged because you can’t fully embrace who you are.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to not lean over and punch Enzo right in the face. Instead, he walked over to the former Don and glared.

“And you’re a pathetic waste of space,” he replied, shaking his head. “Perhaps you are right about my mind… If we were somewhere else, I wouldn’t hesitate to flay your skin and burn you alive.”

Miran smirked wickedly, and Enzo’s smile lessened.

“That just means you should fear me and what I’m capable of. I’m not afraid to kill you nor am I afraid to go to jail.”

Miran picked up the bucket of hot water and plunked it on the table. He grabbed a handful of Enzo’s hair and jerked his head back, tilting it, baring his neck.

Enzo clenched his teeth in response.

Maybe I was born with an appetite for destruction.

“Perhaps, you have met your match,” Miran finished.

He swallowed the anger that was threatening to consume him. The fire-seed grew in his belly, demanding to come out hotter than any dragon had flamed. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the hot bucket of boiling water by the hot edge, hissing when his own hand burned.

He poured it on Enzo’s neck.

Keeping a steady hand on Enzo’s hair and gripping it tightly, his eyes widened at the sizzling flesh. The inferno was more than his soul could manage.

Enzo gurgled under the water and tried to buckle free from the restraints, his body rapidly going through movements left and right, trying to avoid the water.

Not once did Miran’s hand loosened. Some of the steaming water ended up spilling toward the back of Enzo’s neck, toward the area where Miran’s hand lay. The water had no mercy for him either, and it burned his palm and wrist. Gritting his teeth, he held on tight as he finished pouring. He wouldn’t stop until every inch of the skin was tainted and marked.

It took one bucket for Enzo to scream this time.

Miran was getting closer to breaking him.

To a confession.

❖

The tension had left from his shoulders.

With his mind more content, Miran pulled into his car.

He glanced at the screen when his phone vibrated.

A missed call.

Ayla.

He dialed her number and said, “Chief Demir.”

With his other free hand, he started the engine.

There was too much noise on the other end of the line. For a moment, he wondered if something was wrong with his phone. He glanced at it before focusing on the call.

“What’s all that commotion?”

He put the car in drive and slowly pressed on the gas.

“C-Chief,” Ayla stammered. “There’s a problem here.”

Miran held in a breath as his eyes toward the SUVs.

He cleared his throat. “They found her?”

He hoped not.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Ayla replied. “But an accident happened.”

Confusion filled his mind.

“Lada fell down the stairs.”

And just like that, the tension was back in his shoulders.

His foot slipped off the pedal. Stopping the car and pressing the brake, he gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the knuckles of his hand turning white. His insides twisted, and he hesitantly asked in a strangled voice, “How hurt is she?”

“Her head is severely bleeding.”

His pulse jittered, hoping he heard her wrong, that he was being tricked. It had only been a day since he had seen her. Maybe it was his sleep-deprived, hyper-active twisted mind playing fucked up games with him.

“But she is alive, and she might have a concussion. I called the doctor, and he’s arriving soon!”

Exhaling a long breath, he rubbed his forehead as he eyed the same cars that were still following him. Dropping his grip from the steering wheel, his hand went slack as he leaned against the driver’s seat. He gritted his teeth and silently cursed.

“How did she fall?” When Ayla didn’t reply, he demanded, “Where the fuck were you? I left her in your care, and she’s hurt already.”

“I… I-I was in the kitchen. I’d assumed she was sleeping. I… I don’t know what she was doing walking around,” Ayla replied.

Miran pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing.

“I’ll be there soon.” I just don’t when. “Help her.”

He would head to Lada as soon as he could, but right now, he needed to lose track of the mob. If he drove to Sanctum now, it would lead them right to her.