“Take him back to the mansion immediately. Dr. Williams will take him into surgery and ensure his wound is treated,” I order Cyrus, Aidan, and the paramedics who quickly fall in line, gently lifting Declan onto a stretcher.
Shifting my attention back to the crowd, I feel a slight rush as I realize everyone in the room is locked in to what I have to say next. I no longer feel the apprehension, judgment, or disrespect I felt when I first stepped on stage. Instead, all I feel is power. I lean over the stage and reach for a champagne glass on the Ukrainian’s table. Their boss sends me a smirk and a look of approval.
“Please join me in a toast. To my father. To his legacy. And to the Persian Empire.” Stating the name of my mafia is risky, given that this event featured many individuals who were not affiliated with an organization…at least not publicly. But given I’ve just killed a man in front of a thousand or so witnesses, playing it safe has gone out the window.
From the center of the room, a thick Irish accent echoes my chant, “To the Persian Empire”, and slowly I see glass after glass rise. Some do so more reluctantly than others, but I keep my hand raised until everyone has a glass lifted in their hand.
I take a long sip before ending my toast. “To the Persian Empire. And the new legacy I shall bring. Please remain seated as we clean up this mess. Dinner will be served shortly.”
Tossing the remains of the drink on the body in front of me, I head backstage, buzzing from the night and desperate to get out of my blood-stained dress.
___
“Are you sure we can’t just take the dress to the dry cleaners? I do love it dearly.” I pout as Samirah holds a garment bag in her hand.
“Yes, unfortunately, blood doesn’t come out of silk easily. And even if it did, do you really want a dress with so much baggage?”
“One woman’s baggage is another’s symbol of victory,” I challenge, drawing out an eye roll from Samirah.
“This is why I stick to fashion. You mafia bosses are so twisted and cooked in the head.” She practically manhandles me out of the current dress and forces me into the backup she had on standby.
To her credit, the new dress was much more comfortable, made of a soft sweater-like material, but it was much less flashy than the gown I had donned prior. “Are you sure about this outfit, Samirah? It’s not reallygiving banquet attire.”
“That’s because I’ve been ordered to drag your ass into the car. You may have killed one psychopath tonight but we have no idea how many more managed to sneak through security.” She tosses a pair of flats on the floor, having already thrown my blood-stained heels in the garbage with minimal protest from me. Getting rid of those torture devices is a bonus of this wild night.
“I think I’ve more than demonstrated I can handle myself.” Am I ignoring the fact that Declan had also played a role in saving me tonight? Perhaps. But that reality is still too confusing for me to come to terms with. I knew I’d drive myself crazy trying to think of why he had taken a bullet for me, so I needed to let it go until I could ask him myself.
“No one is questioning that. But if people wanted you dead before, I imagine the price on your head has increased tenfold now that you’ve shown what a true threat you are. It’s best we not push our luck,” Samirah chastises me in a tone similar to one my mom would use, which is likely why I cave.
“Fine. But we better stop on the way to get some takeout. I haven’t eaten all day and you know how I get when I’m hangry.”
“There’s a hot plate of food ready for you at home. Lamb stew.”
The promise of my favorite dish has me bolting out of the changing room and toward the back alley, where Cyrus and Arman are waiting for me inside the van.
“I see we swapped out our swankier ride for the one that’s armored.” I take my seat in the center and let out a gleeful noise when Samirah hands me a bowl of food. The car remains silent until I finish my dinner and set it aside. “Any news about Declan?”
“The doctor said the surgery went smoothly. Bullet cameout without a hitch and he should hopefully be waking up soon,” Cyrus answers.
“Good. The moment he comes to, inform me. We have much to discuss.” Like the fact that up until now, I was convinced he had been the one who killed my father and tried to take me out as well.
Cyrus shoots me a disapproving look, “Perhaps that can wait until tomorrow? You should really get checked out.”
My eyes narrow. “The matter I need to discuss with him is urgent. No need to fuss over me. I’m fine.”
“Yes. You’re fine, because of Declan,” Samirah feels the need to remind me. She practically swoons as she says his name. Since when did she join his fan club?
“Naser is right, even in the afterlife.” Arman smiles to himself for a moment before a solemn expression replaces it. Cyrus looks like he’s about to bite his head off. Arman slides closer to the door, putting an additional inch of space between him and Cyrus, as if that would save him. “It was a poor joke. I apologize to Zahra.”
My body stills at the mention of my father. “What…what do you mean by it?”
Arman’s eyebrows knit together. “I was just referencing his final words. About how you could trust Declan.”
“I thought my father just kept repeating Declan’s name over and over again.” My mouth dries as I shift to look at Cyrus. That’s what I was told, at least.
“He did. But first, your father told me he wanted you to know you could trust Declan.” Arman looks between Cyrus and me, equally confused.
“In all the chaos of that night, I must have misremembered some of the details. My sincerest apologies, Zahra. The death of your father. It rattled me to the core.” Cyrus sighs, placing a hand on his heart.
