Chapter 2
My mother's scream hung in the air.
My father froze.
His hand tightened around mine.
"Elena," he said softly.
My mother stopped a few feet away.
She was breathing hard. Her eyes were wide with fear.
"You're dead," she whispered. "They said you were dead."
My father's face fell.
"I had to make them believe that," he said. "For my safety. For yours. For our son's."
My mother looked at him like he was a monster.
"You left us," she said, her voice trembling. "You let us think you were dead for three years. And then you show up here... like this... with all these men..."
She looked at the rows of black cars. At the dozens of men in suits.
She looked back at my father.
"You brought your world here," she said, her voice rising. "You brought your violence and your danger to my doorstep. To my son."
My father took a step toward her.
She flinched.
He stopped.
"I came back for you," he said. "For both of you. I was finally safe. I could finally come home."
"Home?" my mother shouted. "This isn't your home anymore! You left! You died! And I had to move on! I had to survive!"
She gestured wildly toward the house.
"I married Richard because I needed someone to take care of us! Because I thought my husband was dead! Because I was scared and alone!"
Tears streamed down her face.
"And now you show up? After three years? And you expect everything to be okay? You expect me to just go back to being your wife? To living in your dangerous world?"
My father's face was pained.
"I don't expect anything," he said. "But I'm not leaving without my son. And I'm not leaving you alone with that animal Richard."
My mother looked at me.
Her eyes softened when she saw the bruise on my leg. When she saw my raw, red hands.
She knelt down in front of me.
"Are you okay, baby?" she asked, her voice breaking.
I nodded. "I'm okay, Mom. Dad saved me."
She flinched at the word "Dad."
She looked back up at my father.
"Richard is gone?"
"He's being taken care of," my father said. His voice was cold again when he spoke Richard's name.
My mother stood up.
She looked at my father.
At the man she had once loved.
At the father of her child.
And at the dangerous criminal who had turned her world upside down.
"What do you want from me, Vincent?" she asked tiredly.
"I want you to come with me," he said. "Both of you. Somewhere safe. Somewhere Richard can't hurt you. Somewhere we can be a family again."
My mother laughed—a bitter, broken sound.
"A family again? You don't know what that means anymore. You've been gone too long."
She paused.
"But... but I can't stay here," she said. "Not after what happened. Not with Richard... gone. And not with all of this."
She gestured at the cars and the men.
"I'll come with you," she said finally. "For now. For our son. But don't think this means everything is okay between us. Don't think I've forgiven you."
My father nodded.
"I understand," he said. "Thank you."
He opened the car door for us.
My mother got in first.
I started to follow, but my father stopped me.
He knelt down again.
"Are you okay with this?" he asked. "With coming with me?"
I looked at him.
At the man I had only heard stories about.
At the man everyone said was dead.
At the man who had just saved me from Richard.
I nodded.
"Okay," he said. He smiled. "Let's go home."
He helped me into the car.
Then he got in the driver's seat.
The car pulled away from the house.
I looked back.
The house where I had been unhappy for two years.
The house where Richard had hurt me.
The house where my life had just changed forever.
I didn't feel sad to leave it.
I felt... relieved.
And a little bit excited.
My father was alive.
He was real.
May you like
And he was taking us home.
---
