The Alliance || ✎

02

BEATRIX CREED

The echoes of security footsteps approach my bedroom, along with my father's recognizable traces, marching up the staircase.

I drag the two bodies beside each other while I wait impatiently.

I hear the small creak of my door and the sound of my father's voice, "What is it Beatrix, you know I'm b—what the hell happened." He pauses at the murderous scene: Two dead men, torture displayed on the hardwood floor.

"I think the security need trained to keep awake. Don't you think?" I state, annoyance present in my tone.

One of the men clears their throat, stifling in line.

I raise my brows as I comment, "Hm... I do not think this hideous decor suits my bedroom." I point to the lifeless intruders.

"Would you agree?" I march up to a guard I have had history with, stabbing my finger to his chest. His eyes flick a millisecond down at me, but he gathers himself before the interaction is noticeable.

Father stands still, gazing at me with a baffled expression.

"Care to explain, Beatrix?" He raises his brows. "I would love to," I smirk, consciously knowing I have a lot of half-useful information for our Mafia.

And being next in line for leader—this is basically brownie points.

"They were Russians," I tell him. "What were they doing in your bedroom?" He asks, as if I would know. "Asking the wrong person, father. It was such... a precarious few moments, I honestly have no idea."

"Beatrix, my darling, I know when you lie."
I roll my eyes, "Let's just say, it seems I am very "popular" with those Russians, and possibly Italians, at the moment."

Father shoots me an unamused look.

"I'm a hot topic." I place a hand on his shoulder, but he shifts away. Instead, he stares at me in a way that made me uncomfortable, but I did not show it.

He moves away from my side, turning his gears into leader mode.

"We need to keep the bodies to identify the faces. You and Aiden—I will leave that up to you." I nod and watch as father clicks his fingers, his men instantly lifting the bodies and removing them from my bedroom.

I lift my gaze from the bloodbath of a scene and look at father directly in the eyes.
"Yeah, we will get on that," I say, halting a guard, patting the pockets of the dead man only to discover nothing.

I sigh in defeat, hoping I would have found something, like an ID.

I dismiss those thoughts and return to my father, "It is Russians." I repeat, "Some plan about stealing Italian shipments. I interpreted it as them wanting me, specifically, as a way of getting to all of us. And we all know shipments equal war—as they are precious cargo—so it is as clear as day that that is the goal." I pause, "Thank that fella for giving that all to me," I point as the last man's leg, hanging lifeless, exits the door.

"Excuse me? Expand, please, Beatrix." father says dumbfounded.

As he says this, I notice something is off in his demeanour. I will keep this in consideration, but for now, let it slide.

"How can I expand any further? Did you not listen?" Father's face looks hot with anger with the situation at hand. And possibly my talk back.

"Because they want the Italian Mafia to think we stole their shipments, causing a feud between us," I state, defining the reason.

However, I am trying to define the reason for being specifically us, the Russians, and Italians. Even though my father—Tyson Creed, and Italian Don—Fabian De Luca have history. There must be a connection, somehow, with the Russians.