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“Just taking a walk. Around my house…” I pause. “What about you? Why are you hiding out here talking and not inside with everyone else?”
I’m not sure where the confidence or stupidity came from, but I spat it out before it was too late to take it back.
Carlo raises an eyebrow, shock washing over his face momentarily before he narrows his dark eyes and leans in, his scent a ghastly rich cologne, his breath stale as he whispers, “Never eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for you to hear, Theodora. There will always be consequences.”
I freeze and keep my face stoic, but the impact of his words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, caught up in a tornado.
Pulling back, something shines in his eyes as he brings his hand up to my shoulder. Squeezing just a little too tightly, he says in a normal pitch, “I’m sorry for your loss,” then nods at his crony and they leave me standing there in the small alleyway alone.
There’s no denying what he was telling me. He didn’t know my mother had written those very same words to me on a piece of paper the day she died. Piecing some of the puzzle together, my mother must’ve overheard something she wasn’t supposed to hear and she paid the consequence. And although I didn’t hear what Carlo was talking about, I know he’ll be watching and maybe eventually come for me.
But he won’t know I’m coming for him.
2
THEO
Present day
My hands shake slightlyfrom the cold. The tips of my numb fingers still hover over the trigger of my .357 magnum revolver. An all-black, small enough pistol that my father gave to me a few years ago as a precautionary measure.
“Because of my line of work, Theodora, it’s important you keep this with you just in case you ever need it,”he’d said.
What he really means is‘I’m a criminal and run with the mafia, so the likes of you getting attacked are probably quite high.’But sure, let’s call it work.
Not that I have ever needed it until now, but I made sure during my regular training sessions with Emerson that when the time came, I’d know how. It was Emerson who taught me how to fight and shoot properly. Ever since I was sixteen and my father put that pistol in my hand, I’ve been an exceptional shooter. Emerson could never believe how easy I’d taken to it.
But it’s very rare I even get out of the house, especially in the two years since my mother died. I never had much of a social life before. It was always training and then keeping to myself, usually by reading. But as soon as my dad stopped me from doing anything, life got tedious.
Living within the white walls of the Harlow mansion, having the revolver became irrelevant.
The thought used to haunt me, possibly killing, physically murdering someone with it. How could I live with the blood of someone else on my hands? I'd be no better than my father or the likes of Carlo Rhivers.
But since my mother was murdered, I’d never wanted it more.
Now all I see is red.
I want the blood shed onmyhands this time.
I’m not haunted by the thought of taking a life anymore. I’m haunted by the thought of failing.
My legs feel weak as the blood circulation is cut off from my crouched position, but I daren’t move a muscle. One minor movement will alert them I’m here and until my bullet is inside Carlo, being caught is something I cannot afford.
I look down at my watch and realise it’s been nearly thirty minutes. My body is starting to feel the cold air and even though it’s still pretty warm this time of year, the evenings are much colder than they were at the beginning of summer.
The old, abandoned warehouse is only seventy to eighty yards ahead of me, lit up in an orange glow by a couple of street lamps that barely have any life left in their bulbs.
Over the course of the thirty minutes I’ve been crouched here, I’ve clocked a handful of men patrolling the building, all dressed in black with huge, heavy guns, ready to unleash bullets on any trespassers.
Carlo Rhivers is hosting his termly meetings with the other two Districts. Being bored, alone, and curious in the house, I was able to move around invisible when it suited me and I’d eavesdropped many times outside of my father’s office despite my mother’s warning.
I’ve picked up some useless information many times, but I’ve also learned some helpful, interesting, or disturbing information. For example, Carlo holds termly meetings, each time at a new location to maintain anonymity, but local enough for everyone to travel to and always within the Three Districts so no one travels into Newlands.
My father and his men are amongst the group. King and Dax will be there too.
Theodora Harlow, however, is not and will not ever be invited.
Why? Because I don’t have a dick.
