SERAPHINE
Leroi lets go of Mom and looks me full in the face. His eyes are wide, yet he holds his features in that deceptive mask of calm. That’s the trouble with Leroi. You don’t see the snake beneath the suave exterior until it’s wrapped its coils around your throat… or that of your supposedly dead mother.
“Sera—”
I cut off his lies with a knife to the gut that brings him to his knees. Mom clutches her temples and fills my ears with the same screams that are the soundtrack to my nightmares. My stomach lurches. I part my lips to speak, but all that comes out is a dry heave.
My ears ring with a gunshot. A hot knife of pain sears my shoulder. I whirl around, finding Miko standing by the car, holding a pistol.
I should have killed him when I had the chance.
Leroi grabs my wrist and croaks something that gets lost between the roar of blood between my ears and Mom’s continuous screams.
Miko charges at me with the pistol. Behind him, the car is still running with the driver’s side door open. Memories of that night rise to the surface, only this time they’re not a dream. I need to get away. Clear my head. Work out how to win a gunfight when all I have is a blade.
I charge at Miko with the knife. He’s so furious that I hurt his precious Leroi that he raises a hand, expecting to grab my throat. At the last moment, I sidestep and slip into the driver’s seat of the car.
“Seraphine!” Leroi yells.
It’s too late. I slam my foot on the gas pedal, lurch the car forward and clip the vehicle in front. Someone rushes to the passenger door. It’s Gabriel, looking nothing like the emaciated figure from the screen.
“Sera,” Gabriel rasps.
This is no apparition. This is no picture on a screen. Everything I knew about the state of my family has been an elaborate lie. I speed down the street, tires squealing and engine roaring. Gabriel tries to run after me, but soon disappears from my rearview mirror.
It takes several heartbeats to realize I’ve stopped breathing before I fill my lungs with air.
Mom is alive.
Gabriel is healthy.
Leroi is working with Anton.
I can’t trust anyone, not even myself, because the knife in my heart burns hotter than the bullet wound in my shoulder.
It was all one giant conspiracy. Samson must have hired Anton’s firm to assassinate Dad, Gregor, and their inner circle. I must have been part of, if not all, of the payment. Then Anton ordered his second-in-command to handle me. That’s where it gets twisted.
Anton knew I found him disgusting, as did Samson, so they ordered Leroi to get close to me and become my new handler.
They’d learned from their past mistakes and knew I would rebel if Leroi trained me with the chip and collar. That’s why they set him up as my white knight. They wanted to direct my loyalty to Leroi, which is why he was so generous and kind.
How could I have been so dumb?
Leroi completed the training that Anton couldn’t give me, even going so far as to get me to kill the guards closest to Dad, so that Samson could rule the Capello empire without any opposition.
Shit.
I’ve been nothing but a pawn.
What if the lie started the night Dad’s guards attacked Mom? What if it began with Gabriel, whose throat they slit to stop me from learning the truth? I no longer know what to believe.
I drive through the traffic, trying to outrun my thoughts. The bullet wound is a dull ache, pounding in time with my pulse, but it’s nothing compared to the hole in my heart. Everyone I thought I loved is part of this conspiracy. All of them must die.
The street signs lead me to Queen’s Gardens. I find my way back to where it all began. Pulling up to the Capello mansion, I park out of sight and open the glove box. After stuffing the gun, the knife, and the computer tablet into Miko’s jacket, I place the garment over my shoulders and make my way to Pietro Fiore’s house on foot.
Pietro’s house is the perfect hideout. There’s still food in the cupboards and a first-aid kit. The bullet I thought was lodged in my shoulder is actually just a flesh wound and after some pills and some thorough disinfecting, the pain is no longer all-consuming.
Two more men remain on my original list of people to kill: Edoardo Barone and Samson Capello. I still don’t know what’s real, but something tells me that If I don’t kill Edoardo, he’ll continue to haunt my nightmares. There’s no question about what I want to do with Samson. He will die slowly.
I can’t believe Mom is alive and working with Leroi. My mind skips back to the night I couldn’t save her, and suddenly, everything makes sense.
She must have seen me through the gap in the door, watching her at the mercy of those men. Seen me standing there, not lifting a finger to help. I let her get beaten and violated, and that’s why she teamed up with Anton and Leroi for revenge.
I clutch my temple, trying to quiet my racing thoughts. Time is running out. Samson is still out there with his assassins, and I can’t fall back into his or anyone’s clutches. Once he’s dead, I’ll work out how to deal with the others.
A quick search on Miko’s tablet reveals three people in town called Edoardo Barone. One of them lives in a small house in Queen’s Gardens within a one-minute walk from my new hideout.
This has to be my target.
I wait until after dark, using the rest of the day to gather weapons, fix an omelet, and dye my hair with a fresh batch of coffee. There’s even time for a nap. When the streets are quiet and all the houses go dark, I change into a black shirt I’ve stolen from Pietro’s closet and sneak out of the house with a backpack.
The night is silent, with the only sounds coming from the distant traffic. I make my way down the street with my head bowed to avoid being seen under the streetlights.
Edoardo’s house is in the corner, and there’s a light on in the living room. My lips tighten. Infiltrating his house without Leroi’s help will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, I killed dozens of targets before partnering up with a hitman. I walk around to the back of the house and find an unlocked window.
Hoisting myself up is painful with my flesh wound, but I clench my teeth, and climb into his kitchen. It’s a dark space with every surface covered in trash. I land in a crouch, upsetting some plastic food wrappers.
The laugh track of a sitcom draws me out into the hallway and into the living room, where I find a man lounging on a leather couch in front of a wall-mounted television. He sits with his back to me, holding a can of beer, staring at the huge screen.
My lip curls.
How nice of him to unwind after a day’s work.
Because of the likes of him, I will never know peace.
I don’t really think what happened to Mom was staged. Even if it was, the nightmares I suffered were real, as were the five years I spent in that basement. Edoardo will tell me where I can find Samson or die horribly.
I extract the gun, creep up behind Edoardo, and press the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. “Don’t move.”
He stiffens, the beer can falling loose from his fat fingers.
“Who the fuck is this?” he snarls.
“The one who’s going to blow your brains across your TV if you don’t answer my questions.”
He forces out a sharp exhale, his large frame trembling with restrained fury. Edoardo seems like the type of man who might grab my wrist and wrestle control of the gun, so I step back out of reach.
“What do you want?” he asks, his voice tight.
“Samson Capello is still alive. I want to know where he’s hiding.”
“Have you tried the big house?” he snaps.
I don’t dignify that stupid question with an answer. Samson wouldn’t return to the mansion until he was sure that all his enemies were dead. Instead, I flick off the gun’s safety with a click, making Edoardo stiffen.
“Try again, asshole.”
Edoardo raises his hands. “Alright, alright. Last thing I heard, he was staying with an associate out of town.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say. Some house by Lake Alderney.”
My nostrils flare.
He’s with Anton.
“That’s all I know,” Edoardo says. “Now, could you please fuck off?”
I can’t muster up the enthusiasm to give him an elaborate death. All my anger has been superseded by the overwhelming pain of everyone’s betrayal.
Leroi’s treachery cut the deepest. I’d come to terms with losing Mom. She was flawed, but hadn’t deserved such a terrible death. Now, I don’t know what to think.
My breathing becomes labored. Leroi crafted a persona of my perfect match. A man who knew the pain of being rejected by family and had spent his teens learning to kill, just like me. He gave me hope that there was someone out there who would see me as more than a pawn or prey, when all I was to him was both.
“Hello?” Edoardo snaps, his harsh voice snapping me out of my musings. “You got what you want, so—”
I cut off his rant with a bullet in the throat, and he falls off the sofa with a heavy thud. Killing is dull without an audience.
My journey out of his house is a blur of jumbled thoughts. Thoughts of Mom. thoughts of Gabriel, thoughts of Leroi and the hole I sliced into his gut. Thoughts of how on earth I’m going to find Anton’s house. It’s probably in Miko’s address book. If not, maybe I’ll find a clue in the photos.
Pain drags my heart down to my ankles, creating imaginary shackles. Even though I knew this thing I had with Leroi was too good to be true, I’d prepared my mind for a betrayal, but not of this magnitude. My worst-case scenario was Leroi being fickle, and one day casting me out. It never crossed my mind that he could be one of the masterminds conspiring to enslave my heart.
And Mom? I don’t even know what to think.
The only way to clear my mind is to keep killing enemies until I get answers. With any luck, I’ll find where Samson is hiding with Anton and pick them off one by one.
As I sneak back into Pietro’s house, a sharp pain pierces my arm. I glance down what’s sticking out of my skin: the red tailpiece of a tranquilizer dart.
I break into a run and yank it out, but it’s already too late. It takes no time before my steps grow heavy and my muscles succumb to the sedative.
Darkness clouds my vision, and I stumble to my knees. As I hit the floor, rough hands roll me onto my back and I stare into the furious eyes of my attacker.
Miko flashes his teeth. “You’re going to pay for stabbing Leroi.”
