I knew the Italians had him. I'd spent sleepless nights wondering if they were breaking his bones. But seeing him now, unscathed, standing there with a silk handkerchief like he stepped out of a boardroom, is a different kind of violence.
"I thought they were hurting you," I whisper, voice cracking. "I thought you were in a cellar somewhere, begging for your life."
Arthur doesn't meet my eyes. He dabs at his brow, hands trembling. "I had to get you out, Helena. The Russian... he's a monster. He's using you as a shield. I made a deal to bring you home."
"Home?" I let out a breathless laugh. "Dad, they dropped a thirty-ton loader on my head. They slaughtered my guards. You didn't bring me home. You moved me to a different cage."
"It's not a cage, Helena. It's leverage," Arthur whispers, his eyes darting around the room as if trying to convince the shadows. He steps closer, lowering his voice, desperate for me to understand his madness. "The shipping lanes... the legacy... it was all slipping away. Konstantin was going to absorb us. He was going to erase the Blackwood name from the logs. I couldn't let that happen. I had to make a play."
He looks at me, his eyes pleading.
"Moretti promised me the CEO chair back. Once they have the weapons, once Konstantin is out of the picture... we get the Tower back. We get the fleet back. I did this for you, Helena. So you wouldn't be a mobster's wife forever."
I stare at him. He actually believes it. He doesn't see that he's the dog Moretti kicks when he's bored.
"You didn't do this for me," I rasp. "You did this because you couldn't stand being a nobody."
He reaches out to brush a hair from my forehead.
I recoil.
"Don't touch me," I hiss. "What do they want, Dad? Why am I in a chair instead of a grave?"
Arthur stops. He leans in, his eyes darting toward the heavy steel door at the far end of the room. He looks like a drowning man.
"They need to be sure," he whispers. "The Italians... they saw the schedules. They know theLady Anastasiais heading for Venezuela. They know it's Cartel territory. Moretti smells trouble. He thinks Konstantin is moving something that could tip the war, but he won't commit his fleet until he knows for certain what's in those holds."
He grips the arms of my chair, his face inches from mine. "Help me. If we give them what they want, they'll let us go. Is it drugs? Is it gold? Just tell me, and this ends."
I study him, disgusted. This is the man who raised me. The man who promised my mother he would protect me.
"Dad," I say, my voice low. "Look at me. Look at the blood on my face. My guards were slaughtered protecting me from the men you're working with. Lev is probably dying in the street because of you."
He flinches, and for a second, I see the cracks in his armor. He's terrified. He knows he's out of his league. I have to give him a way out. He’s every bit the coward Konstantin said he was.
I lean forward. "Forget the Tower. Forget the money. This is it. Your one chance to be a father. Tell them I don't know anything. Tell them the ship is a decoy. If we walk out of hereright now, I’ll talk to Konstantin. I’ll beg him for your life. I’ll forgive you, Dad. We can disappear."
His lip trembles. The man I used to love fights through the greed. A fleeting attempt, at best.
Then, he shakes his head. "I can't. The deal is already signed."
He thinks he's playing chess when he's actually standing on a firing line. Despite everything, I still don't want to watch him die. I have to wake him up. I have to shatter his delusion before it kills him.
"Then you're a dead man," I whisper. "Dad, please. You have to stop. Walk away now."
Arthur blinks. "Helena, it's business. We?—"
"It's not business! It's a slaughter!" I cut him off, leaning in. "He's not bringing back drugs, Dad. He's bringing back weapons. Heavy artillery. Missiles. Konstantin isn't coming back to trade. He's coming back to start a war."
I try to make him understand. "Don't you see? The Italians aren't your partners; they're using you as a shield. When those weapons land, Konstantin is going to turn this city into a graveyard, and you’ll be the first one in the ground."
Arthur's eyes go wide. "Weapons?"
"And the Italians?" I continue. "They won't even look at you when the war starts. They don't care about the 'Blackwood legacy.' You're a loose end. When the bullets start flying, you'll be standing in the open, alone, with no one to pull you out of the fire. You think you're getting a throne? You're getting a headstone."
Arthur backs away, his face gray. He stumbles over his own feet, the terror finally taking root.
The steel door groans open.
