His Identity

43

|Nick's POV|

Ess locks the door behind us and begins to pace around, clenching hard on his jaw while I stand there, leaning against the wall and watch him carefully, cautiously because you never know with that man.

He could take out a gun, point it at me and say, "duck" right before he pulls the trigger. He's done it before, he said it was 'for training purposes'. One time, a bullet grazed my arm, he received a cut from mom and a punch from dad. He never did it again.

But now that we're alone, I don't know. You never know with this man.

"That girl," he finally says something and I maintain my calm.

I hope he doesn't know who the hell she is. But then again who am I kidding? He probably figured it out the second he laid eyes on her.

"I've seen her somewhere. Nick," he takes a deep breath while I continue to keep my face stoic. Blank. Not wanting to give anything away. "Please tell me that is not who I think she is," Alessio begs, his eyes looking desperately into mine.

"And who do you think she is?" I try to sound as blank as possible but nothing ever goes pass this idiot. He can see right through my not-so-subtle attempt to play dumb.  

"Don't fuck with me," a frown stretched onto his face. For some reason, he hasn't aged a day either. He looks just the same as he did when I saw him for the first time. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere."

I have a feeling I already know the answer to that. But still, I ask. "How?"

"I had cut a similar pair out years ago," he purses his lips in a thin line, his jaw ticking, "from her father."

"Perhaps your weird eye kink has nothing to do with her—"

He glares at me and I immediately zip it. Shit, he's pissed. It's very rare that he gets mad. But when he does, it's usually for a good reason. Other than that, Ess is all fun and games. Literally. Even during the worst of times. I like that about him.

"Is it her, then?" He ignores my comment, directing his glare to the door as if he can see Aveline through it. "Is she Carter's mission?"

"She is nobody's mission," comes out out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Alessio's eyes flickers back to me. He raises a brow and I bite down hard on my bottom lip. I hate it when they refer to her as such.

"So she is Carter's m—" he pauses, correcting himself, "so called daughter, then."

"Why does it matter?"

"Her father was a snitch," Alessio says simply as if that answers my question. When nothing comes out of me, he sighs and takes the signal to keep talking. "We killed him when she was a baby. Then Carter was sent to her as an apology— as a means to clean up a mess. This girl. . ." He trails off, taking a moment to remember her name, "Aveline is living a lie. You being near her— you being close to her risks her finding out the truth."

My throat dries up. I know that. There's not a second that goes by when I don't think about that stupid shit.

"Imagine how sad she'll be," Alessio goes on. I stay quiet and let him talk. "How would you feel if you found out that the family of the boy you're messing around with had murdered your father in the worst ways possible then had the fucking audacity to send a man to replace him?"

Pissed. Mad. Outraged. Pathetic. Embarrassed. Heartbroken. Sad. Unwanted. Fake. Vengeful.

"We have enough enemies on our hands," Alessio stuffs his hands in his pockets, "women are the most dangerous when their hearts have been broken." I frown. Why's he telling me that?