The Runaway Sister

forty-one | the plan

You want to fake your death?

My eyes widen when he says that. Fake my death? Pretend that I am no longer alive? Pretend that Evelyn Rhodes, at just sixteen, died? 

Who would believe that? 

"Yes," Warren confirms Aigner's question in a calm, mild tone. My head whips over to him. This was his bright plan? Pretend that we're dead? 

Aigner nods. "I see," He hums. "You must realize that if this isn't executed properly, you might never get a chance like this again." 

"I'm sorry, but what is going on?" I finally ask, my mind spinning with brand-new information. How can I pretend that I died? How much heartache will that cause? 

But, then again, won't that be for the best? If I pretend to die, my brothers will no longer have any reason to try looking for me. They'll think I'm no longer existing. 

Warren smiles at me lovingly. "We're going to get out of here, Lily. Didn't I promise you that? This is the only way to escape this life." 

I frown and shake my head. "Are you sure? My brothers will be so heartbroken..." 

But then flashbacks rush into my mind. Their constant refusal to listen to anything meaningful I have to say. Their insistence that life with them is the best thing I could have. 

Aigner nods. "Miss Rhodes, I believe you know what kind of men your brothers are. They don't stop unless they have what they want. They'll never give up looking for you if they think you're alive." 

I know what he says is true. In my head, at least. My heart and my mind battle it out, constantly. The monsters who show me love are still monsters in the end. 

I can't change my brothers. No matter how much they care for me, or how much I care for them, nothing can change the fact that they possess the darkest of souls. 

What about Warren Bertelli— heir of the Italian Mafia? 

I look at him. He looks back. Smiles. His face brightens up, his green eyes shining, his tan skin glistening. He doesn't look like a killer, he looks redeemed. 

What changed in Warren? Where did this sudden switch come from? His whole life, he was raised to be a loyal mafia member. How did he break free? 

However he managed, he did. 

I nod. "Ok." 

Warren sighs. "Well, what's the plan?" 

"Tomorrow night, right before a storm, the two of you will drive up to Norderney with some of my security and go boating, the guards remaining on shore. You'll sail out, and fall out when the waves become aggressive." 

I tense at the thought. "Isn't this extremely dangerous? What are the odds we survive?"

Aigner flashes me a warm smile. "This is risky, yes, but necessary. The Rhodes and the Bertellis will believe the two of you washed out to see, never to return. My men will be waiting nearby when you sink." 

"Then what?" I persists, feeling anxious. 

Aigner continues. "My men will load you into a boat, and then drive the two of you to a small safe house in Saxony, where you'll stay until you can be transported to Liechtenstein with new identities." 

My jaw continually drops at each word that comes out of his mouth. A safe house in Saxony? New lives in Liechtenstein, of all places?

Warren voices my thoughts. "Why Liechtenstein?" He asks. 

"It's a tiny, little country, but it's big enough to get lost in there. Who would think to look in Liechtenstein, anyway, if anyone got suspicious of your 'deaths'? And, of course, there is no mafia establish there."