Page 9 of Chris

“Good. I will arrange it with the Marcellos.”

The phone call ended before anyone said goodbye, not that Chris or his father seemed to mind. Marcus continued sipping on a glass of whiskey, not bothering to step in at all.

“Are you sure you want to take that assignment?” Gian asked Chris. “You have duties here to la famiglia, too, son. I am sure I could make do for a couple of months, but it’s not about that. I want you to be certain this is what you want to do.”

His father, always looking out for his boys.

Chris appreciated it.

“Why not?”

Yeah, why not?

That seemed to be the story of his life.

Might as well add another chapter.

The League ran their business out of a cluster of connected buildings deep within the desolate land of Nevada which they dubbed the complex. And frankly, Chris thought the name fit considering it’s massive size. It had to be considering everything and anything The League needed to operate smoothly was inside the complex.

He trained here. Broke here. He lived here—ate, slept, and survived behind these walls. He was sure, despite the time he had stayed and worked for The League, he hadn’t seen every single square inch of the place.

They also added to the place over the years, building on to the complex for whatever suited their purposes. It had been a while since Chris last visited the secluded cluster of connected buildings, so he hadn’t known they added an Olympic-size pool until he stood in the doorway leading to it.

He stared across the calm blue water, unnerved by the black tiling design at the bottom of the pool. It gave the water a bottomless effect, and it sent his anxiety spiking through the roof.

If the water went over his fucking head, it was too deep. An almost drowning as a child left Chris with a paranoia and fear for water. He did his best to hide it from others, but his family knew.

And The League.

They had knowledge of it, too.

One of the many reasons he was conflicted on being back inside this building. Although he appreciated all they did for him here, and what it taught him, Chris still walked away from this place with more scars than he cared to count. Some, more than others, never too far away from his thoughts.

Their motto?

Break the body, break the mind.

They’d done that to him.

Again and again.

“Chris,” Gian murmured.

For the first time, he looked away from the pool, realizing he had come to a complete stop before he passed the room to stare inside. His father, a few steps down the hall, raised a brow and waited for him to get over his … thing.

“Sorry,” Chris blurted, “I’m coming.”

Gian nodded, but said nothing about the water, or the obvious problem Chris had by being near it. His father was good in that way, and Chris respected it. “Dare is waiting with the others. Let’s not keep them.”

Right, right.

Their reason for being here.

Knowing his father made a good point, and the Marcellos had been kind enough to allow them to hold this meeting after the holidays passed, Chris forced his attention away from the goddamn pool. He followed behind his father in silence, walking through newer halls of the complex he wasn’t familiar with as the owners added them over the last year.

Before long, they stood in the doorway of Dare’s office. The group inside, four in total, turned to greet them, although none wore smiles.

That serious, huh?