Made for crime

unknown

Nina's POV

The house was quiet when I arrived, my steps echoing softly on the marble floor. I could still feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the taste of victory fresh on my tongue. I had handled the situation, dealt with the threat, and it felt good—no, it felt *powerful.* But as the silence settled around me, a different kind of tension crept in. The kind that wasn't fueled by action or danger, but by memories and ghosts from the past that I had buried deep down. I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away as I tossed my jacket on the back of a chair.

I was about to head to the kitchen for a glass of water when my phone rang, the shrill tone slicing through the quiet. I frowned, pulling it from my pocket and glancing at the screen.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated for a moment. It could be anyone—a wrong number, a telemarketer. But after what had just happened, I wasn't in the mood for surprises.

I answered, keeping my voice steady. "Who is this?""Nina." The voice on the other end was gruff, deep, and disturbingly familiar. The kind of voice that I hadn't heard in years. One that I never thought I would hear again.

My breath caught in my throat, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Dad?" The word slipped out before I could stop it, disbelief and anger lacing my tone.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be calling me after all these years.

My mind raced, memories flashing before my eyes like shards of broken glass. I hadn't spoken to my father since... since before everything fell apart. Since before he chose power and greed over his own daughter.

"What do you want?" I snapped, the words tumbling out before I could process the shock. "Nina, don't be like that," he said, his voice calm, almost soothing. It made my skin crawl. "I just wanted to talk."

"Talk?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. 

"You lost the right to 'just talk' to me a long time ago. Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it." My hand was trembling, but I forced myself to stay composed. I had no time for his games, no patience for his excuses.

"Nina, wait," he said, his tone shifting, a hint of urgency creeping into his voice. "This isn't just about you and me. There are things you need to know. Things that you don't understand."

"Like what?" I retorted. "Like how you abandoned your family? Like how you chose your dirty deals over your own daughter? I understand perfectly, Dad. I don't need any more lessons."

He sighed, and I could almost picture him rubbing his temples the way he always did when I was a child, as if I was the one who was being difficult. As if i was the problem.

"Nina, this is important. I'm trying to protect you," he said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "Please... meet with me. We can talk in person."

"I don't want to hear from you," I shot back, the anger flaring in my chest. "And I don't want to see you. Don't call me again."

"Nina," he interrupted before I could hang up. "You don't know what's coming. There are people involved in this who won't hesitate to use you to get to me. If you want to survive, if you want to keep the people you care about safe, you'll meet me."

The words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on me. I hated the way my heart skipped a beat, hated the way his voice still had the power to unsettle me. But there was something in his tone—something I couldn't ignore.He wasn't just asking. He was warning me.I clenched my jaw, the phone pressed tight against my ear. "Where?"

"Tomorrow night," he said quickly, relief evident in his voice. "I'll text you the details."

I didn't respond. I didn't have any words left for him. I just hung up and stood there in the quiet, the phone still in my hand. It felt like the ground beneath me had shifted, like the ghosts of my past were clawing their way back into my life. What did he want? Why now? And what was this about people coming after me?I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I wasn't that scared little girl anymore. If my father thought he could manipulate me, he was dead wrong. I would find out what he wanted, on my own terms.And if he was lying... well, I'd deal with that too.But deep down, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking straight into a trap.