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When I tell my boss I’m sick and need to leave early, it’s hardly a lie. Waves of nausea crash down over me every time I feel something shake, brush against me, or anything else that can trick my mind into thinking it’s my phone vibrating. The only thing keeping me calm is telling myself that there isn’t a timeline on the Mullen thing. It could be days, maybe evenweeksbefore Andrey instructs my next move. Only a fool could hope that the day would never come, that the clan’s plans would fall through before I am called to action.
And for that reason, among others, I am a fool. To remain sane in a world ruled by the mafia, you must be foolish, or you must succumb to the darkness. Isn't that what Andrey meant when he said the price is my soul? He believes that completing this mission will cause me to succumb to their ways. I will not allow it to happen.
As I walk toward my apartment, I have that same feeling I had last night. A sinking feeling that I’ll go crazy sitting at home by myself with only my thoughts to keep me company. Considering I hardly slept last night, I decide to go grab some coffee. It’ll kill some time and help me stay awake. There’s a great little mom-and-pop shop around the corner from my work. It’s the kind of bakery that’s cheap, sells sweet rolls the size of your fist, and makes the best cappuccino I’ve ever had.
Stepping into the place, it feels like I can really breathe. It’s so comforting. The sweet aroma of the air, the happy chatting of the employees and customers… it’s the kind of place that makes you feel at home. Going through the line, I wait my turn before ordering a hazelnut cappuccino. As I wait and allow myself to get lost in the atmosphere, I finally feel the hum that I’ve been dreading like the plague.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzz.
If I wasn’t in public right now, I am sure that I would have tossed my bag away from me as though it were a live grenade. Of course, I can’t make a scene like that—especially not here. Even though my breathing dares to hitch, I maintain a cavalier grace in my movements as I reach into my bag and pull out the phone.
DADDY: Details coming soon. Make sure to keep yourself available.
Great. Just… great. I text back “okay” and put the phone away. My order is called. I go and grab it. Staying there to enjoy my coffee isn’t an option anymore, fearing that the panic will get to me. It’s such a strange feeling to need to be around people so I don’t go crazy, while also knowing that I could cause a scene and bring everyone down with me.
Stepping back outside, I turn on my other phone long enough to find an old friend’s number. I land on Preston, a coworker I had at my first ever restaurant job. He’s wonderful, sassy, and always happy to make light of any situation. First, I send him a text from the new phone to let him know who it is. Much to my relief, he calls me right away. I can’t so much as get out a greeting before he’s speaking. “So, the deaddoesrise!”
I chuckle. “Hey. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Like almost six whole months,” he chuckles. “What have you been up to?”
Not much, other than my life going up in flames the past week. “Working mostly,” I lie. “How about you?”
“Oh, so, so much,” he chuckles.
Preston launches into a full tirade about the drama at his new job, giving me a full report on who he has dated since we last spoke and why each fling ended. He’s funny, dramatic, and a perfect distraction. I make it half the way home before he is interrupted by someone in the background of the call. I’m actually laughing as I realize he’s been talking to me on the salesfloor of his new job. The manager is making him get off the phone.
Preston asks me to meet for brunch that weekend, and just as I am about to say yes, I realize I have no idea what I’ll be doing because of Andrey. Besides, do I really want to put people I care about in my orbit during such a tumultuous time? I decline, and as we get off my phone, my heart feels heavier than it did before I called.
The small, almost inconsequential talk has framed my reality all too perfectly. The only reason I made the call was to have someone around me without physically being with me.
I’m so lost in thought that I rely on autopilot to guide me home. As I move to cross a side street, thinking about how I am supposed to hold on to who I am, about who this mission will turn me into, there’s suddenly a sound of squealing tires.
Life is happening in slow motion. My head turns to see a sporty-looking BMW heading right for me. The squealing is coming from that car as the driver slams on the brakes to try and stop before approaching me. I should move—Ineedto move. My mind is screaming at my body to move, but I’m frozen. The luxury sports car is hurtling toward me, and I’m rooted to my spot. Is this shock? Is this a death wish? Why can’t I move?
Just as I feel certain that I’m going to be plastered on the car's grill, it jerks to the side. It’s flying past me, and ever so briefly I lock gazes with glowing eyes.
Life speeds back up, and the vehicle smashes into the crosswalk light. Glass and metal fragments fly all about. The side of my head is stinging suddenly, but only lightly. It’s the only thing I can feel. The rest of my body is humming. Humming with adrenaline, I think. Something. I feel alive buttooalive. Almost high and crazed. Shock? Am I in shock? Why am I in shock?
To my horror, my eyes are drawn to the crosswalk sign that flickers to the signal to give pedestrians the right of way. Shit. This is my fault. This person wrecked their car because I walked into the street too soon. The driver's side door opens, and expensive leather shoes crunch down on broken glass. When I lay eyes on the guy, I start to wonder if I’m hallucinating.
He's handsome.Too handsome.He’s a piece of modern art, isn’t he? Sleek, sophisticated, and so beautiful it hurts to look at him. Looking into his hazel eyes feels like looking directly at the sun, and his features are so angular my mind wonders if I would draw blood running my fingertips across his cheekbone. As he heads my way, there’s nothing I can do to keep myself from ogling him.
He stops only a foot from me, his eyes narrowed at me. Is he mad at me? Of course, he is. His car, which is worth more than my life no doubt, is crunched into a pole.
“Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is husky, deep, and rough in a way that gives me chills on the back of my neck. “Can you hear me?” he asks, his eyes narrowing more. The man steps toward me and my breath catches in my throat. Why don’t I answer? Whycan’tI answer? Then, one of his hands grabs my bicep gently. “You’re still standing in the middle of the road.”
Reluctantly, I peel my gaze away from his face and turn to see a line of cars forming down the street with me blocking their way. Looking back toward him, I realize my vision is dancing. “S… Sorry…”
It’s all I can mutter before I try to step forward, and my legs give out beneath me. I can feel the warmth of his arms and chest catching me before everything turns to black.
CHAPTERSIX
Liam
After I carry her to the side of the road, I position her so her head is in my lap. Surprisingly, I’m not concerned about my suit pants brushing against the city sidewalk. How could I, when there’s such a delicate flower in my grasp? Maybe I shouldn’t, but I brush the strands of golden hair from her face. She’s beautiful and soft, even her features seem rounded and gentle. Her wheat-colored hair and natural radiance that is nothing shy of the morning sun reminds me ofGirl with a Golden Crownby Léon-François Comerre. Elegance, beauty, softness.
“Car isn’t too bad,” Michael says as he gets out. “Managed to shatter the windshield and bend the hell out of the front. But I’m sure one of the Mullen garages can sort it out quickly.” I don’t look up from the woman in my hold, but I can hear him pacing over. “Look at you, saving a life. Almost enough to bring a tear to my eye.”
