Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
All my life, it’s been everything to me. I always wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. Even though Declan’s the one destined to take over as the boss after my father passes, I’ve still always dreamed about being an important captain. I’ve worked hard in my own way. I’ve earned what I got.
But would I burn all that down to save my brothers? My mother and father?
I’m distracted as I approach my car. It’s parked a few blocks away on a shady street. I almost don’t notice the bundle of newspapers on the hood. I stare at them, not sure what to make of it, before approaching.
Something red stains the paper.
I unwrap it slowly. My heart’s beating fast and I already know what I’m about to find. It’s the smell. Copper and reeking. Flesh on the edge of going bad.
It’s a severed human hand. Male, based on the size, but I can’t be sure. There’s not too much blood. And there’s a note clutched in the palm.
You can’t keep her from me forever.
Fucking Molchanie. Another one of her messages.
I throw the mess into the back seat, get behind the wheel, and drive fast to find my wife.
Chapter 34
Alina
Ikeep looking at my phone.
Kira probably thinks I’m just distracted by TikTok. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve gone down some pretty deep rabbit holes thanks to social media over the years. It doesn’t help that I can get pretty obsessed with stuff. My stupid, overly organized brain can’t let things go.
But it’s my messages app I keep opening.
The unknown number stares at me. Have you figured out who I am yet? I haven’t answered, and I don’t really know if I’m going to.
I know it’s her. That’s got to be my mother. Nobody else would send me such a weird and cryptic text. I don’t know how she got my number, but that’s probably the least of my problems.
Now that I know it’s my mother, what do I want to say to her?
There are hundreds of things.
Starting with: Hey mom, why are you murdering so many people?
But I also want to know why she left when I was a baby, what she’s been doing in the years since, and if she ever thought of me while she was away.
Isn’t that kind of pathetic?
I’m finding out that my mother is a crazy murderer assassin lady, and I keep wanting to ask her why she abandoned me.
Like there’s anything logical when it comes to a ruthless mass killer.
I should just delete the message and move on. Nothing good will come of replying. But what if I can talk sense into her? What if there’s a way to get past the threats, the deaths, all the bizarre blood, and come straight to the point?
What if I can save lives with a single text?
That’s worth trying.
Seamus would tell me not to. I can’t even pretend otherwise. He’d get all stern and glare at me and be like, What are you thinking texting with that crazy lady? I need to keep you safe. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I want to kiss the ground you walk on and spend my life worshipping your perfect natural body even if you get old and out of shape.
Maybe not that last part, but still.
I weigh it all day. Kira putters around the store and takes care of the few clients that come through. It’s mid-afternoon when I finally decide that I’ve had enough.
Nothing good will come of doing nothing.
I have to try. Even if that means putting myself in danger.
When Kira’s out on her lunch break, I type up my reply. My hands are shaking when I hit send.
You’re my mother.
That’s it. Just those words and nothing else. Maybe we’ll get to the questions and the emotional mother-daughter reunion later, but for now, just that.
I stare at the phone, waiting for it to do something. Seconds pass, a minute, three minutes, nearly ten, and I’m on edge wanting my mother to say something, anything—
When the door bangs open.
I look up, surprised. I’m about to say we’re closed for the afternoon. But Seamus comes storming over to me, his face dark and serious.
“We need to go,” he says with that attractive growly voice of his.
“What are you talking about?”
“Something happened.” He looks around the store, one hand on a gun tucked into his waistband. “I was meeting with your brother when Molchanie sent me another message.”
“You were with Taras?”
“At his club. Doesn’t matter though.” He comes over and shows me a picture.
It’s a hand. Only the fingers are visible, but the newspaper wrapped around the wrist is covered in something red.
Blood.
“Oh my god,” I whisper as he turns the phone away.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but I needed you to understand.”
“Whose hand is that?”
“I don’t know, but there was a note. It said, You can’t keep her from me forever.” He stares at me, letting it sink in.