4| Souvenir

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Swimming in your eyes, in your eyes
In your eyes, Egyptian blue
Something I've never had without you

Swimming in your eyes, in your eyesIn your eyes, Egyptian blueSomething I've never had without you

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Sebastian Leo Reyes

I'm fucking bored.

Mom insists on my suit being perfect. She also insisted on accompanying me to the tailor, like I am not a grown man who could handle these things.

The ceremony is in three days.

I should feel nervous, jittery, or hesitant. I do not. This is long overdue. Father should have retired years ago. He's not getting any younger, and our family has been in need of a new head.

Mom chose a sapphire blue suit with black shoes and a black tie. She sits behind me, I can see her reflection in the glass before me. Inspecting her blond hair and green eyes, the ones she gave my brother and sister.

The tailor walks around me one last time, assessing his work. He hums in satisfaction and turns to smile at my mother and myself.

"The suit is perfect," Mom praises the man, and he bows his head in thanks. He exits the private dressing room, and I take off the three-piece ensemble. I hang up the jacket, vest, and button-up in separate hangers, tossing the pants through one and toeing off the leather shoes.

I grab my jeans, boots, and T-shirt. Tossing them on before looking back at my mom. She's looking down at her phone, probably texting Savannah. She glances up at me, her eyes catching on the gold necklace that I have worn since I was ten. Her eyes become misty. She has always worn her heart on her sleeve.

"Will you ever give that back to her?"

I give her a tight smile as I pull the laces of my shoes.

"Probably not." Is what I answer her.

My mother's hope will become her downfall. She waits, day by day. Hoping that Apollo will have a change of heart and let us in on the great secret that is his sister. She has been gone for twelve years, and he has never- not once- spoken her name or eluded anything regarding her whereabouts. I have tried to pry it out of him, but he clamps up, like a fucking clam. He has not erased her from court, but she has become one of the wonders our our world.

I remember the first report we received that pertained to her. I was nineteen. It was Christmas morning, one of our considered "days off". My family and I were seated in the living room, opening gifts in the matching Christmas pajamas my mom insists on making us wear. My father's phone went off, he canceled the call but his general, Lucas Castellano kept on ringing. Father answered the call, his look of annoyance morphed into shock. He then grabbed me by the arm and hauled me into his office, where he opened his computer and flipped it around, showing me a picture, taken from afar of five leather-clad individuals, by their shape, three women and two men. Mat black masks over their heads, concealing them. The pictures were taken in Rio de Janeiro and leaked to the press and our informers. That Christmas morning, we were informed that a new generation of Drago Assassins had taken their mantle.

It did not take a genius to figure out who the new members were, the son and daughter of the elusive Adrian and Valerie Drago, alongside the twin children of their generals... and her. That was the biggest shock of all. No outsider had ever been welcomed into the fold of the assassin squadron. She became the first.

It put some of my father's worry at ease. She was strong enough to be part of the most coveted group in our organization. No one could escape them. She was part of all that. She was one of them.

Mom and I exit the room, the tailor and his assistant waving us goodbye. The gold chain is cool against my skin, it's a thin chain, with a stamped flower hanging from it. Father gave it to me the day she and Apollo left for Russia. I have worn it ever since.

I open the door of my car for my mother, rounding the corner I get into my McLaren. The car purred under me. The men's clothing store is a few minutes from my mother and father's house. Mom roped me into lunch, which Apollo and his cousins will attend—a final overview of the ceremony to come. We drive in silence, as my mother is preoccupied with whatever argument she's having with my sister over the phone. Savannah's a sweet girl, but she's more defiant than my mother and father would like. If I had to guess what the present argument is about, it would be that she did not want to attend today's formal lunch.

Well, that makes two of us.

*****

Camila's red nails skim my shoulder. Her smoky scent trailed. She's sitting right next to me, her hand draped over me in a possessive manner. Mom is shooting daggers at her and me. She warned me not to get involved with her, and I didn't listen.

Apollo sits across the table from us, a cup of tea sits empty in front of him. He keeps staring at us. My mother, sister, brother and I. At his twin cousins, Camila and Alvaro. Like he is trying to memorize our faces. He takes a long look at Camila's hand on me. She and I have been seeing each other for a few years, nothing serious or permanent, something I was explicit to her from the very beginning. Apollo clears his throat, getting the attention of the table. He smiles a small smile. One which he has practiced.

"As all of you know- Adrian and Valerie will be in attendance for this ceremony. Our guests from Russia will be staying with us longer than is accustomed. A development that I wished to share with you all before the day, to plan for them as you will." He looks at Mom, and gives her a small, a genuine smile—one which she returns.

"That sounds like a wonderful development, Apollo. It has been a long time since I could spend time with Valerie. She and her husband will be welcomed with open arms, of course." She beams, her hair becoming haloed by the sun shining through the windows.

Apollo's home is the size of a fortress, sitting on acres of lush green land. The floorplan is all open glass and light. The house itself is three floors tall. He decorated with stone statues and grand pianos, along with lavish velvet and satin furniture. You could get lost in this house. It was something out of a period piece. I have been in this home a hundred times, I have walked its hallways, rooms, garden paths, and the maze out back. I have attended the dozen of social events that Apollo has hosted over the years... I know this place like the back of my hand, hell. I helped him design this place, but as soon as I entered through the double doors, I sensed something different. Every painting, statue, and vase was in its place, but the air, and the presence of the home felt radically changed. I could smell the faint whispers of jasmine and honey. A scent that I had never come across in the Palacio Manor.

Camila's blood-red nails began a path down my neck, untill she came in contact with the thin chain, she began to lightly pluck at it- like she wanted to break it. Rip it from my throat and hurl it into the abyss. She hates the necklace, what it stands for, who it stands for. The person who is meant to take her place on my arm, in my bed.

The souvenir of the woman she will never be.

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