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He goes toward the center of the room, where there are folding tables. Some hold weapons, and others hold laptops. “We took inventory. All the families made it out, but we lost almost three dozen men and counting. We haven’t reached everyone yet.”
“Did anyone visit the mansion?”
My jaw tics when Oliver replies, “Angus did. It burned down to the ground.”
When he stays quiet, I ask again, “What else?”
I brace myself.
It is for the best as I’m knocked back when he says, “Our father has summoned you.”
“Summoned me? Is he out of his goddamned mind? This whole mess started because of him.”
“He claims he wants a cease-fire.” His eyes darken when he adds, “He also wants our mother back.”
“What do you mean he wants our mother back?”
“I had her moved,” Oliver confesses.
“Right. Where is she?”
“The cabin.” He must spot something on my face as he’s quick to add. “Don’t worry, she isn’t alone. Tina is with her, and some other women and children are there, too. I sent a small army with them.”
“Good.” My father is a calculating man who has hidden agendas inside hidden agendas. “Where is he?”
He shakes his head, “I don’t know. I told him we would call him to set something up.”
“Hand me a burner.”
I dial my father.
It takes six rings for him to answer. He’d never let a moment pass without flashing his importance in my face.
“Who is this?”
His breathing hitches when I say, “Hello, Father.”
“If it isn’t the prodigal son. How noble of you to call me back.” Sarcasm pours out of him.
“I hear you want to speak with me. How can I help you?” I hand him back just as much attitude.
“Where is your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
My nonchalant reply pisses him off.
“Listen, you little piece of shit. I know you and that bastard are hiding her. Bring her to me, and I’ll forget you took her.”
I take a deep breath before I answer. I can’t lose control. “I told you I don’t know where she is.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds before he switches our conversation in a direction I didn’t expect.
“I heard you met Diana. Is she still as beautiful as Ava?” My jaw ticks when he murmurs, “Ava looks so much like her mother at her age.”
“Excuse me, what did you just say?” The room grows quiet as my roar bounces around it.
“Exactly what you heard. Ava is the spitting image of her mother.” He laughs.
