TWELVE
Dad and I were granted entrance with ease. They checked the VIP tickets my father managed to get and let us in without glancing at us twice. Both of us are wearing suits, which my father adores. I absolutely despise them.
Only when necessary am I putting myself through having a tie around my neck.
“I look out of place,”
I grumble. “Why am I the only one wearing a goddamn hat? I look like I just came out of The Godfather.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,”
he chuckles. “No one wears a hat in The Godfather.”
“The vibes, father, the vibes.”
“Your hair is as white as the fucking snow. You’ll attract unnecessary attention to yourself.”
“Well,”
I pause and take the damned thing off my head since we’re in the poorly lit area of the small casino. “You can’t blame that on my hair. Blame it on my face; I’m handsome, after all.”
“You’re insufferable,”
he scoffs.
He ordered a whiskey neat for himself and sparkling water for me.
Sparkling fucking water.
“Am I a child?”
“You’re acting like one,”
he rolls his eyes. “As I’ve told you numerous times, I need you to be focused. Now, what did you want to talk about?”
“How much do you know about Blair and why she was in prison?”
“Everything that was on the record, why?”
A scoff of disbelief comes from me.
“I thought it was a ‘no questions asked’ situation.”
When I first called Dad and Mom to help me out, only after I committed the massacre, they promised they weren’t going to ask any questions or pry into that. All they told me was that something like that mustn’t be repeated because the risk was too high.
“You massacred an entire prison,”
he hisses under his breath. “Did you really think you had the decency of privacy at the time?”
“Clearly not,”
I draw out.
“But yes, I know the basic details only. Why?”
“At the time of the massacre, I had already hacked into Blair’s files and removed some very important details.”
Dad’s eyebrows narrow at me suspiciously for a moment. He whisks out a pack of cigarettes, puts one in his mouth, and lights it. He takes a long, casual drag before exhaling the smoke right into my face.
Asshole.
“What kind of important details, Arlo?”
I swallow, desperately trying to keep my anger at bay. “Blair was practically sold to Simmons by her parents in exchange for money.”
His face slowly loses color, and he puts the cigarette in an ashtray, blinking. It takes him a moment to grasp the full meaning behind my words, then he exhales deeply.
“Excuse me?”
It takes me a while before I give him more information.
Earlier tonight when Blair opened up, I didn’t expect it to be like that. In my eyes, it was the worst possible thing, yet it wasn’t even half of it. She was just fifteen. Fucking fifteen years old, a child, when her parents started selling her off. Paul Simmons was the first man to assault her, the one to start it all.
Blair wasn’t crying while telling me her story. She was almost expressionless, aside from a few cracks in her voice. And with each new piece of information, my blood boiled more and more. I was barely able to contain myself from doing something reckless and going right into the Simmons’ house to end him.
But I couldn’t.
His life isn’t mine to take.
It’s Blair’s.
She mentioned Adams, too. On her record, she mentioned him twice during the testimonies. He never touched her; he was just there with his buddy, Simmons. He was getting off on her suffering, laughing at her pain.
For Blair’s sake, I mustered the courage not to snap and do something she’d end up hating me for. After the long, gut-wrenching story, a small smile tugged on the corner of her lips.
In detail, she described how she planned and executed her mother’s and stepfather’s murder. She told me how it felt to watch life drain out of their pathetic bodies, what it was like to be soaked in their filthy blood.
That was the first time in her life she’d decided for herself and dealt with the consequences.
She shouldn’t have had to deal with any punishments.
Her parents failed her, and the jury, alongside her lawyer, failed her, too.
No one believed her when she gave the list of names or when she described in vivid, gory details how they put their hands on her. No one believed the stories behind her scars; they just brushed it off as insanity and sent her to prison.
Once I deal with Simmons, the jury and her pathetic excuse of a lawyer are next. The judge will pay the price, and as of right now, all of them have less than a year to live, but it doesn’t mean it’s too early to fuck with their heads.
“It’s not something I want to repeat, ever,”
I say. I would never betray Blair’s trust like that, either. But Dad needs to know little details in order to fully grasp why I’ll do anything in my power to protect Blair and why her safety is my number one priority. “But I’m planning to train her. It’s her battle, too.”
“Are you sure about it?”
Dad asks, taking a drag of his cigarette. “If she kills someone, there’s no going back from it.”
“She already killed her mother and stepfather.”
“That’s different,”
he explains. “It was out of necessity to stop the abuse and free herself. You’re aware that we’re going up against some of the most influential politicians in our country, and she hasn’t met half of those people. Some are girls her age that have been brainwashed into doing the dirty work. Will she be able to do it?”
“Yes,”
I responded without missing a beat. “I’m positive.”
He nods. “Alright. Bring her over sometime; your mother will love to flaunt her toys to anyone willing to listen.”
“He’s here.”
Dad doesn’t turn around to see the motherfucker. Instead, he pulls his phone out and starts looking through the cameras I’ve connected previously to his device. Mom’s on tech duty tonight, and she’s very angry that she’s not a part of the action.
I love my mother to pieces, but I get my patience genes from her.
My eyes are glued to the old man as he walks in with another three men in tow. Two are security guards, and the third one looks like he’s his business partner. Dad beats me to it and sends Mom a picture of the unknown man for identification.
Like Simmons, he’s in his mid to late forties.
Everyone radiates something awful. Not a single decent person in sight. Everyone here has blood on their hands; hell, they probably indulge in criminal activities to pass time. However, they all have solid backgrounds, generational wealth, and connections that keep their crimes and wrongdoings under the rug.
“I’ll play with him,”
I say with a clenched jaw.
“I’ll advise against showing your cards too early,”
Dad says in a lower tone. “Him not knowing your face is the only advantage we have as of right now.”
“You’re right,”
I agree with a nod. “But it’s the only way I can tell him that I’m here and that I’m coming for him. I need any contact with him I can get.”
“Why?”
I grin. “Because he’s a coward. In a desperate attempt to get rid of any evidence, he’ll become sloppy since he needs to focus fully on his campaign, and it’s exactly what we need right now.”
Before Dad can utter another word, I take the final sip of the damned sparkling water, fix my hair, and head over to the poker table, with a quick stop by the bar to get some whiskey.
No one plays with him as of right now. Word on the street is that he’s big on cheating and has cheated people out of a lot of money, hence no one truly wants to play with him. And his opponents couldn’t exactly say anything, given that it’s an illegal kind of gambling.
“Mind if I take a seat?”
Adams’ eyes snap to mine, glancing up. Briefly, he’s confused, since it’s rather rare for anyone to challenge him. Soon, the confusion turns into a grin of pleasure, flashing the obviously fake teeth.
“Are you even old enough to be here?”
He’s being cautious.
As I take a seat across from him, I pull out my ID from my wallet and slide it over to him. Not once do I move my eyes from him, and he looks down, then up at me, then back at the ID, until his eyes finally settle on me, his face getting pale.
He swallows uncomfortably, trying to shift in his spot.
“We’ve never officially met.”
My tone holds just enough venom to get the message across. “I’m Arlo, Jane’s nephew.”
“It’s a pleasure,”
he swallows, eyes darting around us.
“I’m sure it is,”
I nod. “Should I call you my uncle? I haven’t seen you around since Jane was killed.”
“Well,”
he starts to regain his composure. “I’ve been very busy. It’s a very tragic thing that happened to my lovely Jane. Worry not, once I’m appointed the mayor, I’ll bring Jane justice.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
The cards are dealt in front of us, but he’s too far gone to think about the game. His hands twitch, almost trembling from time to time, holding the cards. It’s enough of an indicator that I at least got him to sweat a little.
He’s not afraid. Not yet, at least, but he’s cautious around me and very suspicious of me.
The game is silent whilst I watch him like a hawk. Both of my hands are on the table, and with a trouble to the edge of the poker table, I signal for Dad to follow the other politician.
He snuck out a minute ago through the back exit, and something about him is very odd. Dad doesn’t acknowledge my signal verbally; he just stands from the booth and heads toward the back exit.
Nelson stares at me, barely blinking, barely breathing.
His brows knit together, and I tilt my head to the side. It’s time for him to reveal his cards, and despite not having the opportunity to cheat his way to victory, he’s still arrogant enough to smirk at me.
“Flush,”
he states, showing his cards.
In no time, I reveal mine, noticing the smirk falling off his face, eyes widening as anger flushes behind the lethal gaze he sends my way.
“Royal flush.”
He laughs it off, but he’s pissed. He waves a waiter over, ordering another glass of alcohol. “Beginner’s luck,”
he snorts. “Another one?”
“Not tonight,”
I rose to my feet. “I have a gift for you.”
I brought one of the copied recordings of the night Jane was murdered, with his voice clearly loud and recognizable. The USB is small, black, and definitely not the only copy. I have at least a dozen of them at different locations, just in case.
Easily, he catches the small device when I throw it at him, aiming for his head.
“I’ll see you around.”
Tonight, his entire house is supposed to be empty. He sent his wife away, which left him alone and his home easily accessible. He wasn’t stupid enough to look through the USB device and listen to the recordings in public, which is why I had his entire house covered in cameras and little bugs.
Let the fucking games begin.
“Hi, Mama,”
I grin, opening my arms for a hug. Instead, she flicks my forehead with a lot of strength, might I add, with an angry look on her face. She scans my entire body, head to toe, for any signs of injuries, before sighing in relief when she finds none.
“Do you understand how incredibly dangerous that was?”
Her voice almost breaks, angry tears filling her eyes. “Don’t you dare ever act on your own again, do you understand me?”
Ah.
My eyes find Dad, who is whistling as he steps into the house, pressing a kiss on Mom’s forehead. He acts oblivious, but I know he sold me out. My own father sold me out to my already worrying mother.
Once Adams left the gambling pit, he went straight to a strip club. We weren’t planning on it, and the security is tight, so Dad had to settle for just following him around, waiting outside for him to finally appear.
Meanwhile, I focused on tailing his wife, Zoe. She was supposed to be locked up far away, yet there she was, partying in an enormous mansion, albeit an empty one, just at the outskirts of the city. It’s highly secured, with many people guarding the entrance and the gate.
Once my mother is calm enough to go to bed, I sneak out of their house and head to the mansion. Dad knows where I’m going, and he’ll follow me to help me escape later on.
It’s not too hard climbing over the fence at the back. Since Zoe’s whereabouts are strictly need-to-know, no one expects that she’d be looked for. Though, I did have to knock out two guards at the front door while the ones at the gate were occupied by laughing and talking.
I drag the two unconscious men inside and lock the front door.
With only a hat to cover my face, I noticed too many cameras covering the entire place. The bottom floor is empty, with no housekeepers in sight. The surprising aspect of the entire scenery is the state of the kitchen. Everything is tarnished, broken, unrepairable. Shattered glass, smashed tiles, junk lingering on the floor.
Quite frankly, not something one might expect of a politician’s mansion.
I walk silently, going up the grand, massive staircase. Knowing that it’s only a matter of time before the knocked-out guards are discovered, I stroll up on the second floor, searching for Zoe.
The music is getting louder with each step I take, and it’s not hard to find where she’s hiding.
The farthest room on the fourth floor has its door slightly ajar, the lights are turned on, and loud music is blasting through the speakers. Slowly, I push the door open, stepping inside.
Zoe’s wearing almost nothing, just a simple, sheer nightgown, though my eyes are on her face only. No other woman will ever interest me, fully clothed or otherwise. My eyes belong solely to Blair.
Zoe’s eyes are bloodshot red, pupils dilated. She seems to be out of it, staring at me through a groggy gaze. I’d underestimated just how thin she is – I can literally see her scapula.
Then, as if realizing I’m an intruder, she screams at the top of her lungs. It’s futile because the loud music muffled her screams.
Quickly, I lock the bedroom door and dart toward her, pulling the gun out and immediately regretting that I chose tonight to seek her out. Countless wine bottles are scattered all around, empty medicine bottles, and half-used joints on the carpet.
She’s both high on drugs and highly intoxicated.
Her screaming stops as soon as she sees the gun in my hand.
I never planned to use the gun on her, only to frighten her, and it seems that it worked. Not moving my eyes from hers, I approach the speakers, stepping onto the pills that are spilled from their containers, lowering the music enough to be able to talk to her.
“Please,”
she raises her hands, trembling. “Take what you want, just don’t hurt me.”
My jaw clenches. She thinks I’m here to rob her. But given the state of the mansion, her bedroom, and the entire property, if there even was anything valuable inside, it’s long gone, destroyed, and in pieces.
“I’m not here to hurt you,”
I say, my voice low yet stern.
“Then what do you want?”
She stammers, avoiding eye contact, her body trembling.
“I’m going to have your husband killed.”
She gasps, eyes snapping to meet mine. Pure and utter shock, terror, and fear wash over her, her cheeks losing the little color they had.
“Please, you can’t,”
she sobs, stuttering and fumbling over her words. “He’ll just end up killing you.”
“He won’t.”
I reassure her, but she falls to her knees, sobbing, tears falling down her face. She’s shaking like a leaf, unable to control it. “He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, and I’m definitely not an easy target.”
“You can’t do it,”
she whispers. She readjusts her position, sitting on the floor and hugging her knees to her chest, rocking herself back and forth. Her lips tremble, her body shuddering. “He’s too powerful.”
Slowly, I approach her and get on my knees in front of her, putting the gun away.
“I’m not asking for permission here, Zoe,”
I speak softly, trying not to scare her further. “I’m asking you to make a decision.”
She starts shaking her head furiously, her eyes filled with tears that continuously slide down her cheeks, with no indication of stopping anytime soon.
“No, don’t ask me to betray him, please,”
she sobs. “He’ll kill everyone I hold dear. Please, just leave and never come back.”
I take in a deep breath.
“I work for an organization that is dealing with a lot of cases like yours, Zoe. Our current mission is to save all of the girls he’s holding.”
If possible, Zoe pales further and stops moving entirely. That’s all I need to see to know that she’s aware of what her husband is doing.
“No,”
she whispers. “He’ll kill them before you get a chance to set foot into that place.”
“Zoe,”
my voice is a lot sterner this time. “Do you know where he’s keeping them?”
“No!”
She yells.
That’s when my sharp hearing picks up on the commotion down the stairs, slowly coming up. I quickly rise to my feet, ready to leave. Our meeting was brief, yet meaningful. She doesn’t need to make a decision right now, but as long as she makes the right one, we’ll wait for her.
“I’ll be back soon,”
I promised. “I’ll get you out of this place. I’ll be waiting for your response.”
I approach the window, and it seems as if the security is rushing toward this room. They probably either realized some of their comrades went missing or they found them inside. Either way, it’s time for me to get out.
“Wait!”
Zoe’s name stops me in my tracks. “What’s your name?”
“I’ll tell you next time.”
I only have the chance to get rid of one guard once I’m outside, and I’m not rushing to end them immediately. Instead, I focus on finding Dad’s car, which is parked a little down the street.
He doesn’t speak for the duration of the car ride, and I don’t stir up a conversation, either. He’s miles away, deep in thought, and it’s not until we reach home that he finally reveals everything.
Of course, firstly, Mom scolded me like I’m some sort of a high schooler who sneaked out of the house past curfew. She scolded Dad, too, and I think he’s sleeping on the couch for a few nights.
Mom makes us some warm tea, and Dad lays it all out on the table.
Not once in a million years did I think this was how the night was going to end.
While I was playing poker with Adams, Dad was following the other man, and he gathered quite a bit of information on him. Thanks to a lot of connections he has, Dad was able to get the DNA sample back quickly, and it’s nothing any of us could’ve anticipated.
“Is this real?”
Dad nods, looking at me from the side as Mom and I both lean in, reading the words carefully, then slowly moving to watch some of the security footage Dad got his hands on.
“How the fuck did he hide himself so well? And why?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad sighs. “Are you going to tell her?”
“Eventually? Yeah. I’ll wait for a good time.”
“Tell what to whom?”
Mom interrupts, brows narrowed in confusion.
I don’t get the chance to fill her in, and with a nod to Dad, I kiss the top of her head and leave the basement, rummaging through their fridge for some homemade food before my departure.
If my assumptions are correct, Blair is still awake and hasn’t eaten since the two hamburgers earlier today. I’m not about to let my butterfly starve, and aside from a few simple dishes, I hate cooking. Surprisingly, I am good at it, and Blair seems to like it.
My thoughts drift off as I get the car going, speeding into the night.
This isn’t a coincidence.
After years and years of me waiting and then finally deciding it’s time to show myself to Adams, that man appears? Out of thin air, at that?
How the fuck am I supposed to tell Blair that I accidentally found her biological father?