Chapter 1

Lincoln

"Don't even think about it!"

I draw out my cigarette, gazing at the woman on the floor warningly, who keeps struggling to get rid of that rope tied around her.

"I am going to ask you for the last time." I glanced at my team and told her, raising my voice, "If you still don't tell me, I have to leave it to them. And trust me, they won't mind having their way of making you speak up!" 

Sweats on her forehead, that tension line, and those eyes are showing enough. "S...sir, please believe in me. I didn't take him outside that day. They have done so much for me. How could I do this to them?" 

One can easily make a fool out of himself with that innocent and timid facade a vile woman has on, but if he replays that video footage outside the mayor's mansion, he has to come back to his senses and do everything he can to lessen the pain in a mother's heart who just lost her child.

"So, you won't tell me." I snicker and step back, making the woman looks at me in horror. "Take care of it." Gesturing to the boys behind me, I went outside, got past all the beaten figures groaning on the floor, and then jumped into my jeep to head to my friend's bachelor party. I hope they won't mind seeing me all bloodied and unkempt, even though I know they will, for sure. But again, they will spare me, not because it is my nature, but because it is part of my training.

Letting out a long breath, I punch on gear five and later on six and race on the highway.

I thought my job would help me out of her thoughts, but it didn't work out for me. Hell, it never does when it comes to her.

She didn't text me in the morning. I kept glancing at my phone to see any messages popping up on the screen for as long as I could remember. I waited for a call from her for hours and was sure she would send a goodnight message as usual, but it never came. And it got my nerves.

I feel like breaking into the bachelorette party she will be at right now and dragging her out to give her an earful, but then I can't because I don't have an answer to that question that her eyes always ask. . .what she is to me.

The sky is still dark, and the road is empty, but the skyscrapers on both sides are chaotic. If I hadn't driven to the small town, I wouldn't have saved forty-five minutes to reach the guesthouse on the Upper West Side. Another five minutes pass before I find a parking space, and by the time I step onto the patio, I go tenser when the air around me thickens.

I frown as I pass the key to the butler, not caring for the look I get from the people around me about my horrific appearance. Catching the sight of a familiar figure who is dry humping with a stripper against the wall, I knock hard on the back of his head before heading inside the kitchen to grab my beer..., of course, after kicking away the drunkards on the floor.

"Shit, man! You didn't need to hit me."

Logan groans behind me, and I sneer, "Language, Logan! We have kids in here."

My gaze falls on his brother, who looks like he wants to puke, holding a bottle in his hand. As I wash my hands in the sink, I hear the kid wheeze, spouting, "I'm no kid- Lord, what the heck is that?"

Craning my neck, I took a look at the liquid once more. "Bombshell, my friend. How does it taste?"

The kid scrunches his nose in disgust. "It tastes like something I don't want to taste again!"

With that saying, he walks past me and nearly throws up, killing my wish to grab my beer from the freezer once again.

"When you know the kids are here, shouldn't you be more careful about your appearances, Lincoln?" Logan appeared after some time, helping his guests to their vehicles, and his nostrils flared seeing his brother in that state. "And what about no beer for you, James?"

"I didn't see what I was drinking!"

I leave the kitchen and head to one of the guest rooms to freshen up fast. I don't think I can save that kid from his elder brother's wrath. Besides, in Logan's place, I would have done the same for my sibling. . .if only I had one.

Coming out of the shower, I see Logan sitting on the bed, showering, and a food tray on the coffee table beside my handset.

"How did it go?"

"No progress till now." I checked my cell, but there were no calls from my work. "I'll try to attend the wedding on time, by the way."

Quickly, I finished my dinner to save some time to close my eyes to rest, not sure if I could get a wink of sleep in the next seventy-two hours of our mission. I have to complete it as early as I can. Else I won't be transferred to Albania to prove someone wrong about his assumption about me that I can't be a militant..., that I can never possibly balance both my work and personal life together.

I need to prove him wrong. I have to, no matter what. My mother would have lived, and my sister would still have survived, but my father . . .he still defends himself, saying he was right all along and that he did nothing wrong in choosing his duty over his family. I mean, how. How can he still say that to me with no remorse in his eyes for his deceased daughter, who was precious to us all?

I lay on the bed and checked my inbox once again. 

Getting no massage, I grit my teeth and think with my gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Then again, I shouldn't think about her like that. Instead of feeling worried and annoyed about her, I should be glad to see her coming to her senses for good, taking the hint of what I felt as if she intended to remain ignorant for the rest of her life.

After the incident that turned everything upside down and revealed the truth about my sister's death, she started to treat me differently. She has seen my worse side, but it strangely didn't affect her.

She stays close to me, follows me, begs me to be friends and all shit.

I used to hate it, and at the same time, I also liked it with all her attention on me. I thought she was crushing on me, which was what I wanted from her in our senior year. There wasn't any reason other than for me to bully her, but...,

Then, I realized one thing.

She feels pity for me, and that hurts my ego.

Since then, I have never missed a chance to show her my other side, that everyone is familiar with me, including her.

A school jock. A heartbreaker. Bad boy. And whatnot.

The very reason she avoided me at school and on our racing track.

I thought I played it well.

The pain in her eyes was obvious, but it didn't put me at ease.

It still gives me an unsettling feeling whenever I catch her tear-brimming eyes. Everything in me begs me to stop hurting her, but it is necessary. She needs to know that I don't need her pity, that I am doing great on my own like every other human being.

"Why don't you call her instead?" Suddenly, Logan pops onto the bed beside me. When did he enter, by the way? Looking at me lazily, he says, "She is not pitying you. Unlike others, that girl seems to care about you. Why don't you take a chance on her?"

Reverting my gaze from the ceiling, I give him a death stare. "That's what you think."

He huffs and shakes his head at me. "You don't push her beyond her limit, Lincoln. Like you, she isn't in a good state." With a pointed look, he says, "But you still have time. Things will fall into the right places. . .if you come to your senses right now."

I swallow hard and turn my face away from him.

The thought of her leaving me makes me anxious. It feels like an invisible hand is trying to rip my heart out of my chest.

I constantly chant in my head that I don't want her, that things will get better as soon as I leave this city, and then I doze off for real, and logan shakes his head in defeat. 

~

"Glad to see you here, buddy," Eleanor pulled me into a side hug, that smile never leaving his face. He couldn't have been happier to see me arriving on time on his wedding day, not late like last night when I missed his bachelor party for my work.

"I am not going to apologize to you for that," I snorted coldly after pulling myself away from him. I can see the impact of my words with his gaze cast down to hide the sadness that flashes in his eyes, which makes me feel despicable; an awful name of a friend who only takes and complains and doesn't return a cent of affection and companionship his friend deserves.

Then he smiles at me---wholeheartedly---instead of kicking me out of this reception hall and out of his goddamn life. "You are here, and that's what matters the most." Tossing his hand over my shoulder, he raises his eyes comically, "Let's grab a drink, shall we?"

"You don't drink." I roll my eyes at him when the realization washes over him, and he dumbly makes a sound 'oh' to annoy me. This side of him gets on my nerves sometimes when he acts normal, pretending it isn't me who speaks rudely to him. Then again, he is the mature one here among the guys. "Besides, Ana needs you there the most. Look how uncomfortable she is looking, Eleanor."

His jaw hardens as he looks at the guests around his wife, bothering Anastasia with questions she doesn't like to answer to anyone. "Questi fottuti bastardi ficcanaso!" Eleanor curses harshly under his breath in Italian, "Should better know when to stop."

"I agree with Lincoln." Logan appears from behind with a drink in his hand. "The guys will take care of this one." The smug bastard smirks and hands me the glass, making me ground my teeth as him pulling me to his side after swatting Eleanor's hand away from my shoulder. "You should go to her side and save her day before others ruin it for both of you."

Glancing at Logan, Eleanor warns him, "Don't let him drink too much." And then he stalks off, leaving me pissed and sulking.

As much as I like to be around my friends, who make me feel at home, I still like my privacy more. Wine is the only thing that keeps me sane. It can be a quick escape from reality that I learn when I am like. . .what ten, maybe. I know I was fucked up, but it didn't do any better when these creatures found their way to my home and dragged me out, only to throw me into chaos with a handful of their crazy siblings who I don't know how always bring the best out of a situation where all I can see is gray everywhere around me.

"Any updates so far?" Logan leads me toward the table where our group is chatting and taking snapshots on their phones.

Before taking my seat, I shook my head. "No, but they are still here."

He passes me a drink, "Waiting for the order then?"

"I don't take orders to. . . kill." I gave him a knowing look. Making sure no one could hear us, I leaned onto him. "Merely waiting for someone big to come and cover for them. You know why they will do that. And only then would it be worth taking a shot."

"Need help, Lincoln?" Logan looks at me cautiously.

I smirk, telling him, "Get me a drink. That will do."

Logan glares at me but brings me a drink from the stall. The flavor I like the most. 

I know this one wants to help. But New York isn't their place and will never be. Once they interfere in this matter, they can not get themselves out of this mess. As for me, I will be taking off to Albania, where no one can get a hold of me. But my friends. . .have their families here and have their family businesses to take over as I would mine. They don't know that, but soon they will after a couple of years. I can only hope the day will never come when we stand against one another, pointing our guns to kill.

A familiar figure walks in and takes the farthest seat at our fifty sitters' tables.

The girl I wanted to avoid the whole evening.

The Cannibal Snookums; Regan Wells.

The bane of my goddamn existence.

For leaving me confused all the damn time, pulling the emotional strings in my heart and mind, considerably bad for my health.

I know she knows I am here. Her hand trembles as she takes her drink close to her mouth, but she does not look my way for once.

The bet goes on around me among the cousins, but I can only put my focus on one thing. . .a person in particular.

She looks different tonight, not in her usual tomboy attire. It would be wrong to say she can only dress like that, but mostly, she wears what she feels comfortable with, especially on the racing track or to the restaurant where she works as a part-time cook.

Her brown curls are loosely tied in a bun above. She is tall, like all the girls in our group. With her high heels on, she can effortlessly reach my shoulder. Her blue cocktail dress reaches her mid-thigh, giving the view of her long-tanned legs that I would love to have wrap around me as I roll her on my bed and own her with my dick. . .wait! What the hell am I thinking? 

I shake my head and curse inwardly as my gaze lands on the counter, not surprised to see a couple of empty wine glasses I must have kept before me. That explains enough, and I pushed the other wine glasses from my reach.

I am not drunk, yet I can't keep my mind off her. Those long legs. She never put them on display, not wanting to get unwanted attention. It would either put her in trouble or ruin her reputation to be the Baddie Queen, which was merely a facade to survive in our school to get away from us, the School Bullies, and the bitchy heiresses or wealthy girls. What has changed suddenly?

For the whole event, I have my gaze fixed only on her, who I suppose is now deliberately avoiding me. 

It is very unusual for her. She stays near to me and follows me wherever I go. Could it be because she has found someone, finally? 

A taste of bitterness rises in my chest. My fist tightens around my wine glass. I glared at Regan and started drinking again. 

I never ask for her pity, but she! How can she do this to me? How can she go with someone else after tormenting me for so long? 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a girl appears and sits on my lap.

"Well, Ms.?" I narrowed my eyes at her, suppressing the urge to throw this human rudely on the floor.

The girl laughs seductively, throwing her head back, but her arms snake around my neck still.

"Now, don't pretend you can't remember me, Lincoln. It's Ella, and you know me very well."

Ella smirks at me, bringing her mouth closer, our lips almost touching. Her face blocks the girl who has been ignoring me throughout the whole event, and I couldn't hate her more for that. But then I remember the elders present here, and my expression darkens. Before I could tell her to get off, not wanting to make them uncomfortable, Elsa or whatever beat me to it by telling me about her.

"We had a great time on the farewell day, remember? You even took me on a date that night. Oh, is that Logan? It has been a long time since we went on a business trip with our fathers. How have you been?" Her gaze shifted to my friend, whose eyes were now cold as he bore them on her and the rest just ignored her what I would have had if she hadn't chosen my legs as her chair.

"You can see that, can't you? On second thought, I would have attended my friend's reception if I wasn't well. Do you know why? We are brothers, which makes us closest relatives." Logan talks to her calmly yet in a threatening manner, and the girl stiffens on me, cheeks paling when he leans closer while eyeing her, smiling, "I don't give a fuck about our families being partners. But I give a shit if you or any of your family members don't maintain their decency in our parties and be disrespectful to the elders of my family."

Elin's grip loosens around me, and she gets up while apologizing in a wavering voice, "I-I didn't m---mean to disrespect anyone. I just wanted to catch up- "

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself, my dear." Logan cut her off in a friendly tone like some easy-going guy he is as he gestured to the empty seats at our table, "You're welcome to join us. But I should let you know my young people here aren't as friendly as me."

So, much to allow her in our group.

I smirk when the girl scurries away, but my smile drops soon after my eyes meet with a pair of brimming gray eyes.

A hint of pain flashes in her eyes, but she quickly hides them before looking away from me.

Okay. What is that again?

Logan nudges me, worried. "She misunderstood you again, buddy. Go, talk to her already."

"Is there anything new in it?" I frown at him, not understanding whatever he is trying to mean by that. "She always does that. . .looks at me hurt or betrayed to make me awful about things I have no idea of." I groan, thinking about the pain she inflects in my head every damn time we come across. I hope she will find her passion in something other than me that she can put on her resume to get her admission somewhere after school. Glaring at my friend, I told him, "Make sure she doesn't choose nursing as her career. Or even do her major in Neuroscience. Health center jobs aren't for her, but she has a thing for that. I don't want her to kill her patient."

My thought drifts back to that guy in her biker gang she is very close to, and again, I find myself glaring coldly at her.

"You want to know a secret, Lincoln?"

Logan's eyes glint with mischief that picks my curiosity.

"What?"

"You are one clueless bastard who will end up alone or see yourself parenting your friends' children on the weekends after fifteen years." He spats at me, and now his eyes hold frustration and helplessness for me.

That makes me laugh, but the smile doesn't reach my eyes, and his expression darkens when I snap at him. "Screw you, fucker!"

Fuming, I leave the hall in need of fresh air, and Logan calls me to come back because he is still not done with insulting me.

I take a cigarette box out of my jacket and light it with my lighter.

Outside the hall, I sat down on the middle of the bench by the poolside, and I was glad to see no one there to disturb me. 

My mind is fucking with me, and my heart is doing some crying shit, and I don't know why.

She is nothing to me. She never was. 

Why the fuck is she affecting me so much in this way?

My heart aches for her.

Why?

Should I stop her from leaving?

But I will disappear. . .soon.

No.

I shouldn't stop her.

When she has decided to leave to start over, who am I to say no to her?

I don't know when someone appears from behind and breaks the train of my thought with the sounds of heel-clicking.

Then I hear her voice, "Is this seat taken?"