a's

't belong to my father. It didn't belong to his enemies. It w

thick with paint. Soft music played. The whit

calm waves. The kind of waves that never had screaming or gunshots near them. W

ent, probably. My father always had loud, angry, dangerous business. I tried

t the brush down, the door broke open. Three tall men in black rushed in

king up until my spine hit the wall. The

dded,

. "We don't want to hurt

is hand away.

ehind me. A black glove covered

ught, gasping aga

s." Alive? What do they mean? They grabbed my arms and pulled them behind

ced out when the hand m

ink. "Damien Vescari." That name

d closed doors. My father's voice, shaking in a way I

ame that made gr

ave the wrong person. I don

im," the man cut in. "

ease... stop." He pulled a

"Please don't..." The blindfold went tig

Mov

brushes and broken glass. I cried ou

down!" I

o ti

ened. They lifted me and shoved me inside a dark metal van. No window

you taking me

ould be most afraid

n lurche

choked. "What

ly. "He wants what was promised." I sh

e. "I don't kno

man said. "B

to a place that smelled expensive, cold, and wrong. I h

he blindf

nt of me. He was very tall and had dark hair. His eyes were like a storm-sharp and familiar

said, a little bit t

don't know you. Wh

o my lips, then came

whispered. "You ju

my head. "

"When your part of

on't know what yo

l with me," Damien cut in

years ago.

fr

lve...

anger, and longin

promised to me,

repeated, barely

isted into so

l be my wi

room

gasped. "N

e," he said. "By

oor slammed open behind us.

aid urgently.

't move. "Who

's at the gate. H

disappeared f

" I whi

me, his eyes burn

m," he promised,

lt like fire s

we are