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“Avalie,” he questions back, “your woman?”
“Yes,” my voice firm, “They took her and I want her back.”
“I will you know if I hear anything,” Dmitriy’s tone changes, “And we expect to be left out of the war that is about to take over this city.”
“Stay out of my way, and I will ensure you are left alone,” I respond before ending the call.
Heading back downstairs, I hear Sal slamming down the phone in his office. He shakes his head at me when I enter the room.
“The oyabun isn’t taking my calls,” Sal says still shaking his head.
“I just got off the phone with Dmitriy Andreyev,” I say as I take a seat opposite his desk, “I don’t know specifics, but the word on the street is that the Armenians are working with the Yakuza.”
“Those families fucking hate each other Lorenzo,” he rebuts back.
“I know,” I shake my head trying to figure it out.
“That guy from the warehouse,” Luca interrupts, “the only thing he had to say was that Gregorian had been meeting with the Oyabun.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Sal replies, “What could mend decades of distain between those two families?”
ChapterThirty-Three
Avalie
Her face slowly becomes visible as she steps into the light, and it is almost like looking into a mirror. We have the same blond hair and blue eyes, the same slightly upturned nose, and pouty lips. Her face is older, but it’s her.
I can’t be…
“Mom,” my words sounding unsure as they cross over my lips.
“Hello, daughter,” she responds.
“After all this time,” my words stuttered as I struggle to process this information, “I had just assumed you were dead.”
“Not dead dear,” she sits across me on the couch.
“Then where were you?”
“Something happened with my family, and I had to go away to be safe.”
“Without me?”
“Yes. My family did not know about you, and it was not going to be safe for me to be on the run with a child.”
“Back up,” I sputter, “You went on the run, because of your family, because it wasn’t safe for me…and you chose to leave me with Frank…even though you do actually know who my father is.”
Standing up from the couch, I gesture at the room we are in, “And you know people living like this, and I suffered and starved for years with Frank?”
She stands from the couch and attempts to approach me, but stops when I recoil. “It wasn’t safe for you then. For anyone to know whom you belonged to. But things are different now.”
“What do you mean, who I belonged to?”
“My real name is Karyan Gregorian,” she pauses, “Your grandfather is Levon Gregorian, head of the Armenian mob.”
I step back from her until my back is against the wall, and I have no where else to go.
“Your father is Kaito Tanaka,” she steps back from me and sits on the couch again, “the new oyabun of the Yakuza.”
