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“I think it is,” I said and stood up from the fur rug where I’d been lounging. I was wearing a beautiful gown from Chanel, it was floor length and draped down my body with gold and silver shimmer. I felt like the top of a Hollywood movie award trophy while I was wearing it, I felt so glamourous and beautiful.
But now I was suddenly aware of how stupid it was to wear when I was always on high alert for my enemies. How could I possibly defend myself in these ridiculous clothes if I was attacked?
And if I had to kill again, the blood would destroy the delicate fabric that I loved so much. Black, I had to stick with black.
“It is definitely a helicopter,” Archer said, and the four of them jumped to their feet to stand around me, as if on guard by instinct.
“Where’s it going?” I asked. “Maybe it’s just flying overhead.”
“We can’t take that chance,” Ryker said and walked towards the floor to ceiling double height windows to look out into the night. “If they’re coming this way, we have to be prepared.”
Every one of them was at attention, standing straight with their shoulders back as if they were in the military and ready to fight with their bare hands.
I admired them for it, their commitment to learning the art of defense to keep me safe was the greatest gift of all. Despite my initial fear that this helicopter carried bad news, I knew I’d be fine even if it landed right on top of me.
“Should we go out and see who it is?” I asked.
I picked up one of the guns Amara had given me, a semi-automatic rifle that felt good in my hands. I thought about shooting Reg and knew I’d have no qualms using the gun on a member of the Organization. I didn’t care who it was, I was well prepared even if I was wearing a glamorous evening gown.
“Might as well rip the band aid off,” Valen said, coming to my side. He put his hand on my lower back to comfort me, and the warmth of it radiated through me, bringing me the calm that I needed.
We all armed ourselves in some fashion and opened the tall glass doors to the back lawn. We left the mansion, a rag tag band of mercenary children in the face of everything before us, and waited for the helicopter.
As it got closer, Amara and several of the security team came streaking across the lawn from their building to join us.
“Who is it?” I asked, looking up at the sleek black aircraft. It was lowering slowly on the lawn several yards in front of us.
“I think you’ll be excited to see them,” she said, a sly grin on her face. “I think the time is right.”
“Is it—?”
I didn’t finish my query because the helicopter landed, and before the rotors slowed down, the door opened and a tall, well-built older man leaped from it. He landed elegantly on his feet and strode across the grass towards us.
And that’s when my question was answered with the reply I was expecting.
It was my father, Ivan Popov, coming to see me on Christmas.
I could tell it was him by the narrow face we shared, and the pinched look around our eyes as if we were constantly in deep thought even when we were relaxed and happy.
I was his daughter, after all, and I knew him when I saw him, especially without the mask shielding his face, I could spot him anywhere.
“Everly, my dear!” he exclaimed as he approached, larger than life and full of energy. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years!”
He held his arms open wide, and I struggled to maintain my dignity and not react. I wanted to give him my anger and scream at him why wasn’t he around to protect me, or why had he let all those things happen to me. I wanted to ask him about my stripper mom and the money she stole, and I had a million questions about my family history, his group, and why he was fighting the Organization.
But instead of doing any of that, I surprised myself and I surprised him by running towards him and jumping into those arms.
He hugged me tight, a fatherly hug full of emotion and years of unspoken words.
When we pulled apart, I looked up at him and said, “Hello, father. Where the fuck have you been?”
He took one look at me, broke into a wide grin and said, “Yup, this one’s my daughter!”
Then his face grew serious, and he looked down at me. I studied him for a moment, surprised again to see some physical similarities with him. I’d never looked like my mom, so it felt good to have that connection with somebody.
“I’m happy to finally meet you under better circumstances,” he said, and his voice felt thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you from afar for your entire life, but I never felt it was my place to interfere once your mother made it clear that I was not welcome. I’m sorry for that, I truly am. I thought you had a good life.”
“I did, for the most part,” I said. “I always wondered where you were, I won’t lie. I thought you were some drugged out loser who walked out on us.”
