CHAPTER EIGHT
Raina
I find the unopened letter from one year ago buried in my desk, along with my mother’s death certificate. The only proof she ever existed is a piece of paper that says she’s gone. And somehow, that hits harder than anything else. With no job and no family, all I have is loss and silence.
My eyes stray to the black glossy urn on my bookshelf. Mom did have books. Lots of romance novels. Dora’s son, Remy, and his boyfriend didn’t seem to need anything to spice up their love life, so I boxed the entire collection and took it with me.
Those boxes sat unopened in a corner until I was forced to take five weeks’ vacation from another fuck up. I convinced Ruby to spend a Saturday with me in the nearest IKEA, where I bought a bookcase system. Mom’s smut now sits on my shelves.
Plopping on my sofa, Mom in the urn and her smut winking back at me, I stare at the unopened letter.
My fingers tighten around the envelope until the paper crinkles under my grip. I peel away the seal and reach inside the envelope. Holding my breath, I slide out the folded notebook paper.
Mom’s handwriting is instantly recognizable and jarring. She didn’t have the penmanship of a serial killer. That’s me. She always wrote like a sixteen-year-old girl. Exaggerated script and perfect. All that’s missing are the hearts to dot the I’s.
On the folded-down part, a preamble reads:
Please read and forgive me .
I exhale sharply through my nose.
“Thanks, Mom,” I grumble. “One can forgive, but it’s hard to forget that I was blindsided.”
My Darling Raina,
My mother’s voice with her smooth accent comes alive while the ink shines against the lamp in the corner. The sound drags me under before I have a chance to brace for it.
If you are reading this, I am gone. I can no longer protect you, and you must be prepared for what is coming.
WHO is coming. Your father.
I hid you from him because I had to. I told you he was a one-night stand during my summer vacation in Tivat, and that he was an ordinary man.
But that was not the truth. Your father was a powerful man from a dangerous family.
I did not want you to belong to them. I wanted you to belong to me and then YOURSELF.
I feared your whole life that they would find us. Find YOU.
Now I must warn you that they have.
Raina, you are my greatest love, my greatest joy, and my greatest source of fear.
I wanted more than anything to tell you the truth about your legacy while I was alive.
But I know you. I knew the fire in you, the reckless need for justice, the way you never let anything rest. If I had told you, you would have hunted them down yourself. And they would have destroyed you.
A mother cannot survive losing a child.
But I take to the grave knowing that you are smarter and stronger than I ever was. I was not brave enough to look you in the eye and tell you the danger you are in. I was just too sick.
God, I have failed you in so many ways, but I hope you will forgive me. If you find yourself with no choice but to go to them, do so with your eyes open.
Trust no one.
And please, do not let them steal the fire from you. You ARE their future. The heir to their world. Own it and be a force to be reckoned with when they come for you.
My zemer always, Mom
Zemer. She’s not called me her heart in ages.
Blood rushing through my ears drowns out all other sounds. I release a breath, and with it, bile rushes up my throat. I sprint to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach.
I’m glad Mom couldn’t see how this truth messed me up. Strong, huh? How is someone supposed to handle this kind of news? All alone.
On the cold tile bathroom floor, I press my fingers against my forehead, cursing at the clammy skin and my tight chest. I angrily swipe at my sore eyes.
Mom’s betrayal tastes bitter on my tongue, but she was right. If I’d had this information earlier, I would have gone looking for answers. And it might have gotten me killed. By letting them come to me when they needed me, it put me in a safer position.
For now.
Reading through the letter again, I focus on my mother mentioning a one-night stand. It drags me back to the man I spent the night with two months ago. I’d been so distraught over another failed op in June that I drank myself stupid. So stupid, I went home with a stranger.
He wasn’t exactly a stranger. I’d seen him hanging around the new UN construction trailers for months. He was the kind of man you see once and then can’t see any other man.
Now, I have no idea what my future holds. I think about the black card Valdrin gave me. It sits on my dresser in the bedroom, mocking me with the promise of a new life. My legacy, according to him.
By the time the sun goes down, I’m curled up on my bed, holding the damn thing, and dialing the number with aching fingers.
It rings twice before he answers. “That was fast, Raina.”
I scoff, recognizing Valdrin’s smooth, confident voice instantly.
Trust no one.
“Where?” I say, skipping the bullshit chit-chat and the useless screaming at him, tipping off how upset I am.
A beat of silence stretches out until he says low and gravelly, “Penthouse A at York Towers. One hour. Come alone.”
The line clicks dead with a silence that guts me.
Alone is easy, buddy.