Chapter 3

Anna's POV.

“Anna, father was murdered…”

My breath hitched and my heart felt like lead. I couldn't explain the throbbing pain that took hold of my heart, even though I hadn't seen that man or heard from him in 5 years; it still hurt—inexplicably. But with all the blood he had spilled and the toes he had stepped on, maybe he had it coming. I was hurt, but surprised? I wasn't.

I watched Liam's face fall. I had only just realized how terrible he looked. He had bags underneath his eyes and had even grown leaner than I remembered. I knew father's death was taking a toll on him, even though he tried to hide it. He had to look strong, and emotionless like father always taught us, or perhaps I was just seeing what he wanted me to see. Father had also taught us: when we're up against a weaker enemy or an enemy just as powerful as we were, we needed to act strong; but if it was a stronger enemy, we needed to act weak, so we could strike when they least expect.

“It was bound to happen, sooner or later. He had it coming,” I whispered, unsure of what emotions to show or hide.

Liam scoffed. “You don't understand, he wasn't supposed to die—not now.”

“What happened?” I said rubbing my wrist, as another man untied the rope. Liam eyed me wondering if it was a good idea to let me loose. “You don't think I'd attempt to beat all your men and escape do you? I couldn't if I wanted to. I'm not even that skilled.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, as if my words held more meaning than they actually did.

“So, tell me. How did father die?”

“Marcus—he betrayed us.”

“That's a surprise,” I said sarcastically, rubbing my wrist. I still felt the pain.

“There was an ambush at the mansion. No one saw it coming. Not me, not Father.”

I leaned back in my chair. “And you? How did you escape?”

A smirk formed on Liam's lips. “Still as paranoid as ever.”

I cocked a brow.

“What? You think I killed him?”

“Don't blame me, you've always wanted his post and the power that came with it.”

He shook his head bitterly and stood from his chair, wagging a finger at me. “Not like this, Anna, not like this.”

“So indulge me, how did he die?”

“There was a turf war a couple of months back. The Russians kept trading on our turf. We had to act—it cost us a lot of good men.” He paced the small room then stopped. “Father was weak, vulnerable. That must have been when that son of a bitch started conniving.”

I paid attention to his words, searching for a part that suggested that he was lying. Such was our family, trust wasn't exactly a thing, but manipulation was.

“You still haven't told me how you escaped.”

He let out an audible breath. “I was out of town, closing a deal with the Martinez's Widow. I left the mansion with some of the men, before I got back…” his words trailed off as his lips trembled slightly.

An act, or genuine pain? I wondered.

“What business do we have with the Martinez's? We've always been at war, why would we suddenly be having business with them?” I eyed him suspiciously, waiting for a slip up—a sign, anything to tell me he was lying or hiding something. I looked at his fingers, they were perfectly calm. The Liam I knew had a tell, and it was his fingers—he always drummed them against his thighs when he lied. But that was five years ago, he might have gotten rid of it.

“Um…” He started drumming his fingers against his thighs. That was it—his tell. He hadn't changed after all. He was clearly about to tell a lie.

“Business. It was strictly business.” His voice tensed up a little and I smiled. There we have it, our first lie.

“So, you ran…” I said. It was best to make him think I believed him, and it worked, his hands stopped tapping.

“Yes. What other choice did I have? Fight Marcus with a couple of men? He'd be happy if I tried. You know the way it is, Anna: no offspring is left alive.”

Our gazes collided, we both knew what it meant: if there was a new boss in town then we had to die.

“That old geezer was supposed to be unkillable, Anna. We do the killing—we do the hunting, it's not the other way around.”

He was right. My father was the Don of one of the most ruthless Mafias in Chicago. He was ruthless and borderline insane. His paranoia had saved him from death on multiple occasions and what usually followed was a cleansing—more like a massacre to kill off anyone he suspected of being a traitor. Think of it as pruning plants. He was fond of killing the traitors and their entire family to avoid future cases of revenge or an uprising; now, he was dead and we were left with targets on our backs.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. No matter what, always appear in control. Control is first perceived from our body language, then heard in our voice, afterwards felt from our actions; my father's words.

“You still haven't explained why you kidnapped me and brought me back to here in the middle of a war,” I said calmly.

“If I could find you, it's only a matter of time before Marcus did.”

“I can handle myself.”

“With a thread?”

My gaze flicked to his.

“Yes, that was me and I didn't go through all this stress just to ensure that you're fine. No, there's a reason you're here.”

“No kidding,” I said without enthusiasm. Liam licked his patched lips and signaled to one of his men, who stretched a tablet towards me. On the screen, there was a picture of a man with black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was clad in a well-fitted gray suit that seemed to pronounce the word ‘great physique' to the last syllable. I forced my eyes off the screen and looked at my brother.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?”

“That's Gabriel Martinez, your fiance.”