“I’m not saying we shouldn’t go there today, but we need backup. Let’s at least get the rest of the brothers. They can bring the van,” he says then, and I realise he’s right. I can’t afford to fuck this up. We should make sure when we walk into that house, we’re the ones with the advantage. Bragan isn’t goin’ ta be sitting there alone. He’s goin’ ta have men surrounding him. He’ll ensure his security has been amped up.
I look at Rebel. “Fine. Make the call.”
The man is right. I shouldn’t run into this without a clear plan. But it’s been years, and I’m ready to finally put an end to this need for revenge. I’ve always wanted to see the man who killed my mother. I want to look him in the eye and make sure he never hurts anyone else again. And now he’s within reaching distance, I’m even more anxious.
When I’m on edge, I usually have to take a step back and think things through. But when you’re traumatised, sometimes the only thing you can do is run headfirst into a situation. That’s what my father used to do, and I swore I wouldn’t put my men through the same thing.
When I was younger, I thought Da was the hero. He always made himself out to be. But I slowly realised as I got older, that’s not the way to do things.
“Let’s get back to the clubhouse. We’ll have a meeting this afternoon and get the plan set out.” I relay the order to the brothers before hopping on my bike and revving the engine. It’s time to go home, get the plan ironed out, and then we’ll attack.
TWO
MIREN
Graduatingwith a bachelor’s degree from university has been my sole focus since I decided what I wanted to do with my life. It took years to choose a subject I was happy with. I’m not yet qualified, I still have a few years to go before I can see patients, but once I get a doctorate, I’ll be able to do something meaningful with my life.
I know my mother would have most certainly pushed me in another direction, but when I told her my desire was to help people, she appeased me by agreeing to let me study psychology. I didn’t follow in her footsteps of the corporate world as such. To this day, I’m not entirely sure what my mother does, but I do know she owns businesses across the globe. We’ve travelled far and wide, but I would like to find an internship while I complete my studies.
London is filled with tourists today as I make my way through the throng. Covent Garden is packed, and I’m ready to get home and hide in my bedroom until Christmas arrives. But, August is my favourite time of the year as the leaves turn yellow and orange and the city becomes an autumn wonderland. As I grab a takeaway coffee, I offer smiles to those I pass. I do prefer my quiet time, but there are moments of magic when it comes to the season change in the big city.
Tonight, we’ll have dinner with some of my mother’s colleagues. I’ve always been proud of her. As a female in a male-dominated world, she’s made a name for herself. She’s respected by her peers. Banking, finance, and transport, she’s held her own amongst the sharks, and now that she’s talking about possibly retiring early, I wonder what that means for me. Granted, I’m ready to leave home now. At twenty-two, I want to get my own place. I’ve just been rather lazy at searching for something I like.
As I make my way toward the tube station, a cold shiver trickles down my spine, but when I glance over my shoulder, trying to find the haunting eyes I’m pretty sure are watching me, I’m dizzied by the amount of people.
I should really tell Mum I’ve had this strange feeling I have of being watched, but I don’t want to bother her. She’ll only worry, and when she does find out, I’ll probably have bodyguards following me around. My mother has always said her work can be dangerous. That people may seek revenge on her business decisions. It doesn’t truly make sense to me, but I’ve obeyed her directions and rules all my life.
I don’t go out alone at night. I’m careful about what I share online. And when I do head to a party or dinner, I’m always with friends. Mum usually gets a private car to pick me up and take me home. But tonight, I wanted to benormaland jump on the tube. It’s busy enough that I don’t particularly feel afraid.
By the time I’m on the train, I’m surrounded by people, and the shadow that’s been following me seems to have disappeared. Perhaps it’s my imagination. I shouldn’t let things get to me, but learning about the human mind and how it works, Iseemore than other people do. I tend to read others, mostly because I’m intrigued to know what makes them tick. I love to assess and delve deep into their minds to find out what scares them, what worries them, and most times, it’s something new.
I’ve always enjoyed people watching. That’s how I would spend my time in parks, coffee shops, even at school. I would try to garner what I could about someone just by taking in their responses to situations. That’s what brought me to where I am today.
When my station stop appears, I step off and follow the crowd as we make our way to the exit. It’s not far to walk from here, and I turn left the moment I get onto the pavement. The house is only a few streets away, but still, the nervous feeling that’s been haunting me attacks once more, and I stop in the middle of the crowd.
As people pass me by, they don’t take note of me. Nobody notices anyone in London. The city is busy; there isn’t really time to stop and think. No moment where you even look at a stranger. When I no longer feel eyes on me, I turn and head down towards Chelsea, where our semi-detached townhouse is situated. Once inside, I breathe deeply. My pulse riots against my chest, and I know I should tell my mother about what happened.
It’s become the norm for me to feel as if someone is watching me. And if I don’t tell her, and something happens, she’ll feel guilty. I can’t have that happen. Setting my purse down on the table at the entrance, I decide to go to the kitchen first. It’s empty, but I grab a water and choose to wait till dinner before I talk to her. She’s probably in her office, and I don’t like disturbing her when she’s working.
I’m about to take the stairs to the first floor when I hear my mother’s voice shout at someone. I’ve heard her angry before, but this is different. Ignoring my escape up to my room, I head toward her office instead. If she’s in trouble, I should try to help.
The door is slightly ajar, and I reach for the handle, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I hear her voice again. “She’s not coming to live with you.” Her tone is no nonsense, and I’ve heard it before. Whenever I wanted to do something she didn’t agree with, I’d be told directly I would be locked in my room or grounded if I disobeyed.
The silence tells me she’s on a call. I wait to listen, leaning against the doorframe. My mother has many business partners, and for a moment, I’m certain she’s talking about them.
But then she says, “I took her when she was a child because I didn’t need her in harm’s way. You know if I’d left her with you, she wouldn’t have made it past her thirteenth birthday.” My chest tightens, and my heart thuds wildly against my ribs. It must be my father she’s talking to.
The thing is, I haven’t seen him before. I don’t even know his name. When I asked my mother, time and again, she always told me was in the army. The story was that he got deployed, and never returned home. I believed her, but from what I can tell right now, she is talking to him.
“Listen to me,” she says, but then doesn’t continue, and I wonder if the man on the other end of the line interrupted her. If he did, he must have said something bad, because seconds later, a vase smashes to the floor, causing me to jump. I can imagine which one it is. When I was little, I always thought it was magical. A large, crystal monstrosity that shimmered as if there was glitter in it.
“You can try,” Mum says. “But it’s not going to work. You know why? Because she’s my fucking daughter. I worked hard to put her through school, to make sure she’s not a part of this organisation. She’s free from the confines her grandfather set out, and I’m not about to let her walk right back into it.”
For a long while it’s quiet, and I close my eyes as I breathe softly. I don’t want her to hear me. I can’t let her know I’ve overheard the conversation. With delicate steps, I move away from the door and make it to the staircase before she exits her office.
“Miren,” Mum’s voice calls to me. “I didn’t realise you were home already.”
I glance over at her and smile. “I just walked in.” The lie tastes like a bitter pill on my tongue, but it’s the only way I can make sure she doesn’t realise I’ve eavesdropped. “How was your day?” I ask lightly, hoping the change of thoughts racing through my mind will calm my erratic heartbeat.