“My grandfather built this empire, and my father rolled into it. Grandfather dearest taught him everything. My father was exceptionally skilled in approaching his hits silently, but killing them in gruesome ways.” I realize now that there are many similarities between my life and M’s. We both have fathers whoaren’t here anymore, fucked-up family bonds, and unresolved anger issues.
“How did the stuff with the hands come into place? That shit is ghastly,” Oliver notes.
“My father, against all odds, was raised religiously. His mother, my grandmother, was a devout Christian and wanted to raise him in a household where God meant everything to them.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Lana.” Oliver shifts forward. “But isn’t it one of the Ten Commandments, or whatever, that you can’t kill anybody?”
“True, but my father was something else. After he moved out at eighteen, he started to interpret religion differently. It wasn’t enough for him to abide by His words; he needed to fulfill his duty as a servant of God in another light.”
“I get that, but why the hands, though?”
“It was his fucked-up way, and his call-off sign, of honoring God. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t raised religiously. My father left that decision up to me.” I look at M, and he kisses my right cheek. Affirming that he is still here. When I look at Sara, she raises her glass and winks at me.
“How did your mom come into the picture?” Josh asks me, picking up where Oliver left off.
“My father met my mother while he was on a job in Calabria. She was there on vacation. He fell in love instantly, and they married pretty quickly. After two years, I was born. We had the perfect life, even though I lived with my aunt.”
“How did it go haywire?”
“Well, my mother died a couple of years ago, and my father spiraled. He loved me, yes, but my mother was everything to him. Every single piece of happiness was tied to her.” I hesitate on how to continue, and M steps in to defend me.
“My love, you don’t need to continue now. You have told us as much as you can.” His heartwarming words touch somethinginside of me that I thought was completely dead. I shake my head because I need to get this out of me so I can continue with my life. I turn my attention back to Josh.
“I graduated, and I went back to Sarajevo to visit my father, and once I got home, it was abandoned. My father disappeared. I think that my mother's death was the breaking point for him.” I can hear the wheels turning in their heads. They are all processing what I just said. After a while, M breaks the silence.
“Lana, why is he coming after you right now? I know that you mentioned that a deal with another assassin went bad, but why you?” His question is valid, and it makes sense. It takes a lot for me to open up and be honest, but I try anyway.
“So, I told you that a deal went wrong, and that he can’t forgive me.”
56
M“You did explain everything, but what did he mean by it?” This is vital information right now, and I’m impatient. The muscles in my face are ticking as they fight to stay calm, but the edge of panic is tightening all of my features. I have a hungry, frantic focus, and I need answers more than my next inhale.
“I’m sorry, M,” Lana starts. I don’t like where this is going. “I didn’t tell you how my mother died.” I fucking knew she was holding something back. She always told me her mother died or alluded to the fact that she was sick. But all of it falls apart when I look deep into her eyes. Lana is holding back.
“My mother died on her way to the airport to come to my graduation.”
“And your father is blaming you for her death now,” I finish for her. Silence drops over us, the kind that feels heavy. My team goes still, and I don’t blink. The weight of her words pulled theair out of this open space. Oliver and Josh swear under their breaths, and Sara and Adam look away, the truth settling like a stone in our guts.
“It’s fucked up, I know, but he is grieving. He was with my mother all the time.” Lana breaks the silence with an explanation that doesn’t make sense to us. But it does for her father.
“Did you go to the funeral?” I ask her. Lana becomes visibly uncomfortable, and tears are welling in her eyes. I pull her into my chest, and she lays her head on me.
“I didn’t even know my mother died until I came home. My father had a bullshit excuse that she was going on a job with him at the last minute. I should have been more vigilant, because my mother would have never done that to me.”
“Your father is a piece of shit.” Oliver’s brutal honesty cuts through the air and lands squarely on Lana. Instead of crying, she nods.
“He is. And he needs to be taken down.” She wipes the tears away from her eyes and sits up straight. Determined to wash away the stink from the planet—her father.
“And I might be able to help you all,” Lana says, looking at me. “For this, I am going to need a cigarette.” I’m taken aback because Lana seldom smokes. She only lights one up when nerves are eating her alive, or for a social event, like this one.
I take a cigarette from my pack and give it to her. Lana takes the cigarette and puts it between her right middle and index fingers, and I light it up for her.
“Lana.” My little hummingbird doesn’t get a chance to explain herself, because Sara interjects.
“I thought that you were left-handed?” Lana’s eyes widen, and for a split second, there is something behind her eyes I can’t quite decipher. Fear?
Lana quickly regains her composure by smiling and switching hands. “Sometimes I confuse myself, probably because of the adrenaline.”
