28. Alana
Alana
Terk Henderson. Are you kidding me? I’ve met evil incarnate that didn’t do as much damage to me and mine as Terk Henderson. He’s an infected hemorrhoid on the ass crack of humanity, somehow poisoning the blood.
I cry. Ugly cry. No dignity. No restraint.
I stay on the floor longer than I want to admit before the self-loathing kicks in.
I hate that Terk Henderson is the cause of my lowest, most pathetic moment.
He doesn’t deserve floor tears. So I crawl onto the couch, tuck my legs into my chest, and keep crying.
I’m not even sure why I’m this devastated.
It’s not like Grae left me because I wasn’t good enough.
It wasn’t any of my insecurities. Still, I’m gutted. My literal organs ache with every sob.
The sound of wood splitting explodes through my apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. Four, armed men storm into my kitchen, guns raised and scanning.
“CLEAR!” One ducks behind the counter. “CLEAR.” Two more sweep through my bedroom, their voices echoing. “CLEAR.” A gun waves in my face.
“Who did this to you?” Wow. That trope hits differently when it’s your crime lord friends playing soldiers instead of a ten-thousand-year-old fae chasing a Sunshine Warrior. Stupid books ruin everything.
A black dog leaps onto the couch, his muzzle pressing to my cheek. Sniff. Slobber. “Alana, what happened?” Hadeon’s voice cracks with a panic I haven’t heard in years. He kneels in front of me. “Are you hurt?” I rub the tears from my cheeks. Dimitri and Joey stand in my living room, waiting.
“No.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Hadeon’s hand settles on my foot.
I glance around, and my eyes land on Thiago. His gaze burns as he speaks into his phone. “Are you in position?”
“Almost.” Uri’s voice crackles back. “No clear shot. Two other men in there.” Hadeon squeezes my foot gently, urging me.
“I know why Grae broke up with me.” The room freezes.
“Is she okay?” Uri asks.
“She’s crying,” Thiago growls.
“I’m taking the fucking shot.”
“He was trying to protect me,” I say quickly. “And Grae’s windows are bulletproof.”
“How do you know that?” Thiago lifts a brow.
“Bulletproof windows and steel doors are required for all clients.
“Why isn’t your door steel?” Dimitri points at my own door, hanging lopsided on its hinges. I sniff, a traitorous line of snot threatening escape.
“Because it’s original wood.”
“I knew that asshole was going to hurt you again.” Thiago sighs.
“He didn’t want me to be a sex slave to a power-hungry monster who abuses everyone he comes in contact with,” I say, resting my head on my knees and petting the dog hogging the couch. The room goes quiet except for the door creaking.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Uri says.
Hadeon nudges the dog off the couch and takes the now furry spot. He doesn’t look at me, only the men in the room. “We’re going into DEFCON Delilah.”
Guns disappear. Phones come out. Thiago walks to the bathroom. “I’m getting Claritin,” he mutters, already complaining about the dog. “My first allergy appointment was this morning. My arm still hurts.”
Hadeon calls Penny. She answers, “Baby, if this is about almond milk—”
“DEFCON Delilah,” he speaks into the phone and then hands it over to me.
My mentor and friend’s voice rises “All meetings are over. Get to work. Email the rest. Leave.” A pause. “Okay, Alana. Tell me everything.”
Wow, she’s pausing her empire to provide emotional support after years of keeping my Grae away from me.
My feelings are mixed at best, but I tell her about Grae, and that Amanda had the journal.
The interrogation. The miscommunication.
The phone. The video. No detail is skipped—except Terk’s name.
By now, Thiago sits on the arm of the couch, close but far from the dog.
The men take positions around the room, guarding me.
Retelling it lights everything back up. I start crying again.
“Alana, we need a name for this guy.” Joey crosses his arms.
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re only going to kill him.”
Dimitri chuckles, tracing the blade of his knife. “That’s the point.”
“You’re not listening,” I snap through clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you his name because you’re only going to kill him.” This side of me has been dormant for almost two years. I thought the revenge virus burned out. Apparently, it mutated. Concerned glances pass between them.
“Okay, Penny,” Hadeon says, taking the phone out of my hand. “How do we fix this?”
“You don’t,” Penny sighs. “This is a multi-pronged hit. First, she was wrong. For years, Alana assumed she was dumped because she failed.” Yep, I hate everything about that.
“Second, she wishes she were right. That way she’d be broken, and broken things can be fixed.
” I do like fixing things. “Third, loss of control. Grae made the decision. She thinks they’re stronger together.
That she makes him stronger.” She pauses.
“Fourth, self-sabotage. Every relationship after that is shaped by fear. What-ifs.” I grimace.
Penny gets a pass. “And fifth, the worst one. Needing help and being afraid to ask.”
It’s Thiago who squeezes my shoulder. “You’ve been there for us. Why wouldn’t we be there for you?”
The words lodge in my throat.
“She doesn’t trust people to do things for her,” Penny continues. “She only accepts help on her terms. She’s reliable. She doesn’t expect others to be.”
“Ouch,” Joey mutters.
“To need help makes me look weak,” I whisper. “And I can’t afford to look weak around any of you.”
Hadeon pulls me into his chest, protective but platonic. “How do we fix this?”
“You can’t,” Penny says again. “Just remind her the world isn’t terrible.” This is not exactly the guy's strong suit. They all glance around. She lets out an exasperated sigh and says, “I’ll be there soon.”
Joey pulls out his cellphone. “I think I can fix this.”
Hadeon and I exchange quick glances. “Didn’t you listen to anything my wife said?”
“Hey Babe,” Joey lifts his finger. “Listen, Alana is really upset.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to kill a dog. I mean not a client’s dog. That’s bad for business,” Jenny says, and Joey blinks down at the phone.
“What?” he says and looks around to everyone else for some translation. I know what she’s gonna say, and it’s way more fun to listen to Jenny explain her mind's process.
“Well yeah. First, we need to dig an eight-foot hole. And by we, I mean you, because digging holes is like the worst. Then we throw in the body, fill it back four feet, drop a dead dog in and fill in the rest. Why? How do you guys get rid of bodies?”
“Um,” Joey blinks a few times. “This isn’t a conversation we should have over the phone. But why would you assume we’re killing someone?" There’s a huff.
“If she’s upset then someone made her upset and that has to be dealt with.”
“Um yeah, she’s not giving us a name.” He shoots me a dirty look.
There’s a long silence, then Jenny says, “Oh I see the confusion. You think we’re only going to kill him—and I’m assuming it's a man for obvious reasons.”
“What obvious reasons are there?” Dimitri throws his hands in the air. Then he pauses, sighs, lowers his hands, and starts sulking in the corner. I guess it’s been a while since he’s let his violent side out. This is an opportunity squandered.
Joey clears his throat. “I’m not talking about killing someone.
Do you have access to the corgi breeder?
Because I was thinking Alana and the rest of the girls might like a puppy party.
” Joey is the heir to the Four Families legacy.
He’s a mafia boss in training, and his list of crimes is longer than some Knights of the Night fanfiction.
And he just uttered the words, ‘puppy party.’ I really need to get them out of the criminal lifestyle.
And yes, I would very much like to go to a puppy party.
“Oh, I can do that. I’ll text her the details. Love ya, bye.” Jenny hangs up and leaves Joey confused. He frowns and looks at his phone before sighing and slipping it into his pocket.
“I kinda wanted to go to a puppy party.”
The boys mill around, trying to figure out what to do with themselves.
About ten minutes later Uri arrives, kisses me on top of my head and then realizes there’s nothing to do.
Dimitri takes out the trash, Joey loads my dishwasher, Uri starts dusting my bookshelves.
Shit, if I had known they clean instead of providing emotional support, I would’ve broken down a lot sooner.
There’s a knock at my broken door and two men in suits and sunglasses walk in with a square box.
One of them lifts it and says, “I’m special Agent Horne, from the FBI.
Message went out saying you’re having a bad day.
On behalf of the bureau, we wanted to present you with this cake and thank you for all the work you’ve done for us that no one is supposed to know about. ”
Weird. They place the cake on the kitchen counter. The one not holding the cake, pats my shoulder and walks out. As they are leaving, a younger man with slicked back hair like an 80’s villain walks in with a bottle of wine.
“Dragon Crypto sends their regards and a thank you.”
A member of the Triad I’ve met before—but I don’t remember where—brings me a fuzzy blanket. The representative of the Yakuza enters with a stuffed animal of a frog eating a cupcake to which he says, “It’s so silly, frogs don’t have teeth.”
At this point I look over at Hadeon, “What exactly is DEFCON Delilah?’
He shimmies his shoulders and says with a proud expression, “A message went out to all your allies that you could use emotional support, so they’re bringing you gifts.”
I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and hang my head, far too emotionally drained to be angry. “So you broke my door, and gave out my personal address to known criminals and easily manipulated powerful men?”
“Oh, yeah.” Hadeon smacks his forehead, “I see the issue now.” Then points at the counter with all the food. “But hey, free food.”