Dr Meera Saravana has been on the run for the last ten years due to a fatal misunderstanding. She ends up in New York, hoping that maybe this time everything will work out. But that's turning out to be impossible the more she gets involved with the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There's a few things I've learned as the head of this family.
1) keep your loved ones close 2) keep you enemy's as far away as you can
I've broken those two rules already.
Nat sits next to me, her hair up in a messy bun held together with a clip and a sharp butterfly knife in her hand that she keeps playing with.
The blade nearly nicks her her skin but her skilled fingers keep it from spilling her blood.
Besides...I knew that if I said something, I'd find myself at the end of that very blade. Nat wouldn't hurt me but when she was like this, it was best to just let her be. Nik and her shared that trait, a strange animosity for orders or self control. Well, nobody is perfect.
Arlo was a bloody mess in front of us. A lesser man would feel pity for his poor, rotting soul. His face was bloody, cut, and scraped. He stared at her through his one good eye, his irises shaking as he followed the movements of her hand. It was like watching a mouse being hunted by a king cobra. I could only watch, waiting for the next move.
"Fucking bastard," Nat hissed. She slammed the knife down on the table, the blade sinking partly into the wood.
Arlo jumped, his scream muffled by his gag. His eyes kept shifting towards the door. I blocked his view, leaning forward. The only people he could hear or see were us, and nobody else. There was no escape from us.
It's been two days since Meera was taken. Two whole days of us planning meticulously as we moved from safe house to safe house with Arlo, gathering bits of information and staying vigilant. The tides of war had shifted with the information we had gained from him. Ambushes we're expected, warehouses were burned to the ground, and we knew the layout of the docks. He valued his life more than his secrets—mostly Nik's handiwork.
"Well, Nat," I said, getting up. "Shall I leave you to him?"
She grinned, the butterfly knife stilling in her hands. "With pleasure. It's been a while but I think I can handle it. You don't mind if I get bit...messy, do you?"
"Be my guest." I nodded and glanced at Arlo. He was looking at me now, almost begging. I could tell Nat to stand down but that was like talking to a brick wall. She wasn't here for me, she was here for Meera and I knew that she wanted blood.
There was more things to worry about. I took my leave, ignoring his muffled cries as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway of the safe house.
Anya was in the living room with Nik and some of our men. She had forgone the pantsuits and heels, wearing a turtleneck so red that it resembled the blood on my shoes. Her long hair was tucked underneath a knit cap. Her gloved hands tapped the cheap wood of the table, watching the map of the city like s hawk to find something—anything—that could be used. Ever since Meera had been abducted, she hadn't slept. She must've felt guilt and I knew she wasn't the only one.
