SHATTERED ON PURPOSE

Love&Blind

The small kitchen of the apartment was filled with the rich, savory aroma of fried plantains and simmering stew, mixed with the unmistakable sound of Rihanna's voice filling every corner of the room. She was practically yelling over the music blasting from her phone, singing along at the top of her lungs while aggressively seasoning a pot of chicken.

"I said turn down the gas , not dance on it, baseline!" Marcus laughed, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were soft, fixed entirely on her.

Rihanna spun around, a wooden spoon dripping with sauce raised like a weapon in her right hand. "Excuse me? Are you telling me how to cook in my own house, Marcus? After I've been standing here for two hours while you were out doing God-knows-what?"

"I was at work, Ri," he said smoothly, stepping into her space and wrapping his broad arms tightly around her waist before she could wave the spoon again. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her vanilla lotion and faint kitchen spices. "And it's our house."

"Yeah, yeah, keep talking," she grumbled, though the fierce edge in her voice immediately melted. She leaned back against his chest, dropping the spoon back into the pot so she could cover his hands with hers. "You're late. I told you to be back by seven."

"Today's work was hectic ," Marcus murmured, pulling her a little closer. He kissed the side of her neck, feeling the quick, warm flutter of her pulse.

That was Rihanna , loudmouthed, fiercely protective, intensely dramatic, and utterly devoted to him. She was the kind of woman who would pick a fight with a stranger on the street just for breathing near Marcus the wrong way, but would also stay up until three in the morning massaging his back when he was stressed. She loved him with every single piece of her heart, without hesitating.

"You smell like rain," she said, her voice softening into that quiet, intimate tone she saved only for him. She turned in his arms, her dark eyes searching his face. She cupped his cheeks, her fingers warm against his skin. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

"I'm fine, babe," Marcus said, forcing a warm smile that reached his eyes. "Just a long day with the logistics contracts. But being here with you fixes it."

It wasn't a complete lie. Being with Rihanna was the only time his head felt clear. But deep down, beneath the quiet rhythm of their life together, a cold weight had been settling in his gut for weeks.

Months ago, desperate to secure capital to expand his auto-logistics firm, Marcus had taken a business loan from men he shouldn't have even spoken to. What started as a standard high-interest repayment scheme had slowly spiraled into something sinister. The syndicate backing the deal wasn't just interested in his money; they wanted to use his transport routes to move illegal cargo across state lines. Marcus had flatly refused, trying to pay back the principal debt to sever ties. He thought business disputes stayed in boardrooms and simple agreed terms. But he didn't know the kind of monsters he was dealing with.

"Marcus? Hello? Earth to Marcus!" Rihanna snapped her fingers right in front of his nose, pulling him back to the kitchen. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern. "You completely spaced out on me. What is going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing, Ri. I swear," he said, pulling her closer and kissing her lips . "I'm just starving. Let's eat."

"You better be starving, because if this chicken goes cold after all my effort, you're sleeping on the couch," she declared, though the corner of her lips twitched upward into a smile.

For the next hour, the small dining table was full of life. Rihanna talked non-stop, complaining loudly about her supervisor at the clinic, telling an absurd story about a customer at the local market, and insisting that they needed to plan a weekend trip to see her mother next month. Marcus listened to every word, chuckling in all the right places, taking in the bright, unfiltered energy that made him fall in love with her in the first place. She was his anchor.

By ten o'clock, the dishes were washed and Rihanna had curled up on the couch, her head resting heavily on Marcus's lap as a movie played quietly on the television. Her eyes were drowsy, her hand loosely holding onto the hem of his shirt. She was always like this , clingy in the sweetest, most uncompromising way. Even in her sleep, she reached for him.

Marcus ran his fingers through her thick hair, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

"'l will clear the rest of the debt by Friday," he thought to himself, resolving to sell off a piece of his yard inventory if he had to. "I'll pay them off and shut the door on them forever."

Then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

It wasn't a ring, just a low, sharp buzz. Marcus reached down carefully, trying not to disturb Rihanna, and pulled the device out. The screen lit up with an unknown number.

He frowned, tapping the screen to accept the call, putting the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

Silence held the line for two agonizing seconds. Then came the voice of his younger brother, Anthony ,frantic, gasping, and terrifyingly ragged.

"Marcus... Marcus, man, you have to..."

A loud, wet thud echoed through the speaker, followed by the sound of heavy boots on concrete and a cold, calm voice in the background: "Hold him down."

Marcus went dead silent, his entire body locking up like ice. He sat up straight, his breath catching in his throat. "Anthony? Anthony! Who is this?"

Rihanna stirred slightly at the sudden shift in his posture, murmuring softly in her sleep, but didn't wake.

"Marcus!" Anthony screamed, a sound of absolute, gut-wrenching agony that sliced right through the speaker. "The docks, Marcus! They knew about Mom's car..."

The call cut abruptly. A second later, a text message flashed on the screen from the same unknown number. It was a photo.

Marcus's hands shook so violently he nearly dropped the phone. He tapped the image.

It was a picture of a dark river bank near the harbor. Half-submerged in the murky water was Anthony's silver sedan, its windows smashed in. Standing on the pier above it was a tall man in a dark coat, holding up two fingers toward the camera.

Before Marcus could even process the image, his phone rang again. This time, it was an official contact: the state highway patrol.

Marcus answered with a numb, trembling hand, pressing the receiver to his ear. "Speaking."

"Mr. Marcus?" a heavy, somber voice asked from the other end. "This is Officer Miller with the State Police. I'm... I'm very sorry to have to make this call, sir. There was a severe multi-vehicle collision on Route 4 early this evening involving a commercial freight truck."

Marcus's vision blurred. "My... my mother?"

"Your mother, Eleanor, was pulled from the vehicle," the officer said softly. "The paramedics performed CPR on scene, but the blunt force trauma was too severe. She passed away in the ambulance on the way to St. Jude's. Sir, we also have reason to believe your brother was in the area..."

The rest of the officer's words turned into static in Marcus's ears. The room began to spin violently. His chest felt as if a heavy iron block had been dropped onto it, crushing his lungs.

"Mom is dead. Anthony... Anthony is gone."

It wasn't a business dispute. This wasn't about money anymore. The syndicate had struck. They had wiped out his family in a single, coordinated strike to break him into total submission.

A quiet groan escaped Marcus's throat, a sound of pure horror.

The movement on his lap shifted. Rihanna sat up, rubbing her eyes, her face filled with sleep before she caught sight of Marcus's face. The moment she saw him , his pale skin, his hollow, unseeing eyes, the tears streaming silently down his cheeks, she was wide awake.

"Marcus?" she asked, her voice instantly sharp with panic. She grabbed his hands, feeling how ice-cold they were. "Marcus, look at me! What happened? What's wrong?!"

"Ri..." His voice cracked, barely a whisper. "Mom... my brother..."

"What about them? Marcus, speak to me!" She scrambled up onto her knees, cupping his face forcefully, forcing him to look at her. Her loud, fierce instinct kicked in immediately, her eyes blazing with protective terror. "What happened to Eleanor and Anthony?!"

"They're gone, Ri," Marcus choked out, the reality crashing over him like a tidal wave. "They killed them. They're dead."

Rihanna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as shock drained the color from her face. "No... No, no, no! That's impossible! We just talked to your mom yesterday! Marcus, who killed them?! What are you talking about?!"

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head fiercely against her chest, holding him with everything she had. She was crying now, heavy, furious tears spilling down her cheeks, but her grip on him was unyielding. "Who did this to your family, Marcus?! Tell me! We're going to the police right now, we're going to..."

Marcus sat frozen in her hold, his cheek pressed against her beating heart, as another text message chimed softly on the phone still clutched in his palm.

He slowly brought the screen up to his face, out of Rihanna's sight-line.

It was a short text from the syndicate.

`Your debts are paid in blood, Marcus. But your loyalty belongs to us now. If you go to the cops, or if you try to run, the feisty girl holding you right now is next. We are watching.`

Attached to the message was a photo taken just five minutes ago, a high-resolution shot taken from across the street, looking directly through their living room window.

It was a picture of Rihanna holding Marcus on the couch. And right over the middle of Rihanna's forehead was a bright, red laser crosshair.

Marcus's heart stopped.

He looked at Rihanna , at her tear-stained face, her fierce, stubborn eyes filled with endless love and rage on his behalf, ready to fight the world for him. If she knew about the gang, she would never leave his side. She would stay, she would fight, and her loyalty would get her shot dead right in front of him.

"She won't leave if I ask her to," Marcus realized, a cold, terrifying clarity settling into his soul. "She's too loyal and too stubborn. The only way to save her... is to make her hate me so much , that she runs as far away from me as she can."

"Marcus, talk to me!" Rihanna cried out, squeezing his shoulders, her loud voice trembling with grief and anger. "Who did this?!"

Marcus closed his eyes, swallowing the bile rising in his throat, and buried his face in her hair one last time.

"I don't know, Ri," he lied, his heart splintering into a thousand irrecoverable pieces. "I don't know."