11. Austin
11
Austin
Last night’s lack of sleep thanks to the delicious woman sleeping in my bed has my mind in a foggy haze as I pull into the driveway of my childhood home, a strong sense of apprehension washing over me. It still feels so strange to be back here. While there’s a part of me that should probably be feeling relief and excitement, there’s an even larger part of me that feels nothing but worry.
Once I finished college and officially became a member of The Phoenix Legion, my father made it a point to only give me the assignments that took me farther and farther away from Haven Beach. I think, subconsciously, he knew that I couldn’t come back. Not if there was any other option.
Giving up on the dreams I had, on the life that I had imagined for myself, was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The day my father sat me down and told me about our family business and what was expected of me, I knew that everything I had wanted had been merely that… a dream.
This life as an assassin was what I was always destined to do.
“Austin, is that you?” My mother’s voice calls out as she comes into view, stepping out from the kitchen. Even in her early fifties, my mother is still as beautiful as ever. Her once rich-brown hair has grown more salt and pepper over the years, but she refuses to dye it. She’s always claimed that she’d welcome old age with open arms and seems to be truly embracing that.
“Hey, Mom,” I call, stepping towards her to pull her into my arms for a quick hug. She pats my back before pulling away and heading into the kitchen.
“I was wondering when you’d be back around.” A smile is spread across her face as she stands at the kitchen island, a variety of colorful flowers spread across the countertop as she works to build a few arrangements.
“Sorry. I know I just sort of disappeared after heading over to the bakery to order everything.” I wasn’t here for more than two hours before she’d mentioned calling the local bakery— the bakery that Chelsea owns— to place an order for the party she’s throwing at the end of the month.
“That’s okay.” She smiles, her focus remaining on the pink flowers in her hands as she removes a few of the leaves. “I figured you’d get together with Ethan and maybe pay your sister a visit.”
“I’m going to stay with Ethan while I’m in town. I don’t know how long this one will take or when I’ll get another chance to hang out with him again.” I’m sure she’d prefer I stay here, but after spending so much time away, I’m craving a sense of normalcy. Traveling the world, even if it's to put people in the ground, has been an incredible experience. But my heart and soul are aching for a taste of the life that I gave up.
She nods her head in answer, a slight smile still spread across her lips as though she knows something that I don’t. I silently watch her put the finishing touches on one of the floral arrangements. It's a simple act that I took for granted before, watching her do something that she loves. My mom has always enjoyed keeping bouquets of fresh flowers in the house. It's something that she has carried into the Safe Harbor organization. She makes it a point to deliver fresh floral arrangements to the safe houses as well as to the Elysian Suites when victims are residing there.
“Your dad’s upstairs in his office,” she says softly without tearing her gaze away from her task.
I slowly climb the stairs and find my father sitting in his leather office chair, a file open on the desk in front of him while more sit piled on the corner. I tap a knuckle on the door to alert him of my arrival. He looks up at me, his furrowed brows relaxing as a hint of warmth fills his eyes.
“I was wondering when you’d finally come to collect your assignment. Have a seat.” He nods towards one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk, waiting for me to sit before he slides the file over to me.
“Daniel Witters, age sixty-two. Multiple reports of abuse and sexual assault, the first accounts dating back about fifteen years ago.”
My eyes roam over the file, taking in the photo of this man whose life I’m now assigned to end. “Why are we just now taking care of him?” I ask, the list of reports against this man sending waves of rage coursing through my blood. My stomach churns when I read the penal codes listed. Codes that address child endangerment, neglect, and sexual assault.
As much as I wish I could live a normal life, completely oblivious to the kind of evil that roams the world, I will be more than happy to rid the universe of this man. His file contains numerous photos, but my attention catches on a faceless image of what appears to be a young child. The palms of the child’s hands are covered in deep cuts, and there’s a large area of bruising on their upper arm.
Of all the people The Phoenix Legion removes, those who think it’s okay to abuse children are the ones that I enjoy taking out the most.
“All of this,” my father gestures to the file in front of me, “has been kept covered up for quite some time. We’ve never had enough details to make a move until now.”
“And where did the information come from?” I ask as I continue to flip through photos and third-party reports. From the information provided, it seems as though reports were made but there was never any direct confirmation from the victims.
“Before I tell you, Austin, I expect you to handle this as you would any other assignment. Your discretion is imperative.” His steady calm tone feels like nails on a chalkboard. I find myself sitting back in my chair, finally tearing my eyes away from the target’s file and meeting my father’s gaze.
“Where did the information come from?” I repeat, steeling myself for his answer.
“It seems our friend Officer Reed was hiding quite a few reports. After his death, his personal belongings at the station were combed through. Mercer’s connections handed over this file of reports for us to deal with.” I nod my head and lean forward in my chair to reach across the desk and take the new file folder from my father, but he holds it back from me.
“Your discretion, Austin,” he reiterates. Something about the way he’s stressing that fact, as though not every assignment falls under the same guidelines, causes a nervous energy to churn in my gut .
“Yes, Sir,” I reply calmly, holding my hand out for the folder. Once it’s in my hands, I open it up to read over the first page. I feel like I’m going to be sick. The name Margaret Witters is listed as the person filing the report, her signature confirming it.
Chelsea’s mother.
Why was Chelsea’s mother filing claims against a man who was her husband at the time, if the matching last names are any indicator?
Based on the dates listed on the oldest reports, the things that Margaret detailed happened before Chelsea moved to Haven Beach and became a part of our lives. She was so shy and reserved when Hailey met her. I’d always assumed it was simply the typical "new kid in town" shyness. I never even imagined that something malicious may have happened to cause her quiet behavior.
“Did you know?” I ask him as I look up from the folder, tossing it onto his desk. I can’t stomach reading any more of it right now. To know that Chelsea experienced abuse at the hands of someone who was meant to protect her only makes me want to burn the world to the ground.
“We learned that Margaret was battling a mental illness soon after the girls became friends, but we weren’t aware of anything having ever happened to Chelsea or her mother. As many times as we’ve welcomed her into our home, Maggie has never directly mentioned any past abuse. Her behavior and emotions at times were erratic, but we assumed it was part of her diagnosis.”
My mind spins as I try to recall a time when Chelsea may have mentioned or hinted at any trauma, but I come up empty.
Choosing not to answer, I nod and gather the photos and reports back into the file, standing and preparing to leave my father’s office. “ Austin.” His voice has me turning to face him once more as he says, “That girl means a lot to this family and your sister. And I know what she used to mean to you. Still, I expect your discretion when handling this.”
He may be my father, but he’s also my boss and one of the heads of this organization.
“Yes, sir.” With the file in hand, I head back downstairs to say goodbye to my mom. Her finished floral arrangements are lined up on the kitchen island, but she’s no longer in there. Smiling to myself, I head down the hall to her office and rap my knuckle on the door as I had done in my father’s office. Mom’s got her laptop open and appears to be reading something on the screen.
“I’m heading out,” I tell her as I take a few steps into her space and wait for her to look up from her computer.
As if sensing my unease, she rises from her seat and walks over to me, wrapping her slender arms around me and hugging me tightly. “I’m so sorry that this falls on you, Auzzie,” she murmurs, the childhood nickname bringing a sense of comfort as I return her embrace.
“This one makes me nervous,” I say honestly. I’m not sure how I’m even going to begin handling this assignment. I know that I would do anything within my power to protect Chelsea. My feelings aside, she’s my sister’s closest friend which already practically makes her family.
“I’d be concerned if it didn’t,” she says, pulling back from my embrace. “She’s very important to this family, Auz. Your father wouldn’t be giving you this assignment if he felt like you couldn’t handle it. ”
I know that my mother is right. My father never assigns targets to any of our men without first being sure that they can handle whatever will be necessary. Taking out her piece of shit step-father won’t be a problem.
The problem is that I’m not sure how I can continue to be around Chelsea while simultaneously sinking into that cold darkness inside me that will enable me to remove him from this world.