The room shatters into chaos.
Something flies across the room and shatters against the wall. I can't even make out what it was. A lamp maybe?
Sin is pacing, running his hands down his face.
Isaiah is staring at nothing- mouth still parted in shock.
Arrow stands from the couch so fast I almost fall into the empty space he left.
"Calm down." He says to Sin. Stepping in front of him.
"Calm down?!" He spits and I actually hear some sort of accent leak into his voice but I can't tell what it is. "She's fucking Italian!" Sin whirls on me, his green eyes blazing. "Is Lancaster even your last name?"
"What?!" I ask incredulously.
"Lancaster is pretty fucking American, sweetheart." And it's clear this time when he speaks. The accent is so thick it's impossible to miss.
Sin is French.
I stare at him for a moment. Not really thinking about what he said at all.
"We looked into her, Sin. Lancaster was the only family name listed." Arrow says, but he eyes me like he's not sure he believes it himself.
"So what?" Sin throws his hands up. "It's not hard to seal the rest or destroy it. Her birth certificate doesn't even say she was born in Italy."
"It doesn't?" I ask, my stomach twisting.
Sin looks at me a moment. "No." There's a clear bite to his voice but the accent is gone. "No it's doesn't. It says you were born in the states which makes me think you're hiding something." He takes a step towards me but Arrow steps in between us.
I take a breath. "I'm not trying to. What do you want to know?"
I feel bad for Isaiah, having to watch this all go down. But when I glance back at him the blank look is gone and he looks almost entertained.
Great. Glad someone is.
"When did you leave Italy?" Sin asks.
"When I was six."
"Do you remember your birth father?"
"He was tall with dark hair and he was away a lot. That's all I remember."
"Did he come with you back to the states?"
"No," I shake my head. "My mother told me a few years later when I was 12, that he had died in an accident."
"Did she embellish?"
"If she did, I don't remember."
Sin glances at Arrow. It's not often that I see him look to anyone. But they start to have some sort of silent conversation. I glance at Isaiah to find him watching them too.
"What are you not saying?" I snap.
Sin turns to glare at me. "What did dear old dad do, Ivy?"
I pause. "You're not implying..."
"I think that's what I've been implying since the start of this incessant conversation."
"My father was not a mobster."
Arrow gives me a look like he's sorry. And like he actually might hate this as much as I did. Though that's very unlikely.
"How do you know?" Arrow asks very carefully. Like I'm some caged animal ready to charge at him.
"Because my mother would've told me." I grit out.
But something falters.
All that moving. I thought my mother just couldn't keep a steady job. I thought we were running from overdue rent. And I thought all the times we lived on the streets was to avoid paying it, especially when we didn't have the money. But my mother was smart enough to hold down a diner job of a job at a coffee shop. She was smart enough to pull doubles and work until she had enough to feed us.
So what the hell happened?
My childhood is just flashes. Bits and pieces of a larger picture. And with my mother gone- theres no one to ask besides Meg who was even younger than me.
I lean down and place my palm against my forehead- willing the memories to float to the surface.
They don't.
But what if it's true... What if- what if all this time, my father had been some crazy Italian mobster and for some reason he wanted us found? Or after he died they wanted us killed? Was he even dead?
Suddenly I felt sick.
I felt sick that this was even remotely possible. I felt sick that my entire childhood was a lie. I felt sick that I'd portrayed my own mother as flighty and irresponsible when she was neither of those things. She was just trying to keep us safe.
I look up. Arrow meets my eyes looking slightly pained. "Is this possible?" I ask in a small voice.
Arrow takes a step forward and goes to knees in front of me. "What do you want me to say, Poison?"
He's asking me like he doesn't know the right words. But neither do I.
"The hit is real then?" I look over at Isaiah, who glances at Sin. I follow his gaze.
Sin's green eyes are indifferent. Nothing new. After a moment of him staring at me- he gives the slightest nod. "I would assume so."
"My sister." I choke out.
"Isaiah, assemble a team in Sin Sity to pick up Megan Lancaster and take her to a safe house." Sin says, and while his tone gives nothing away, no emotion, no nothing- something still tugs at my chest.
Isaiah snatches his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the room.
"She won't go willingly." I almost laugh in spite of myself.
Sin meets my eyes again. "I expect nothing less."
I swallow and look down at my hands. Arrow puts a hand on my knee. "We're gonna figure it out."
"Why do they want me dead?" I ask, ignoring his attempt at consoling me.
The muscle in Arrow's jaw feathers. "If you were born into the Italian Mob... there could be hundreds of reasons."
Great. That makes me feel better.
Arrow stands and I decide to stand with him. Feeling the need to move, I start to pace around the living room, waiting for Isaiah to come back and tell me it's taken care of. That my sister is okay.
A hand catches my arm and tugs me back. I crash into Sin'a chest. My forehead unceremoniously smacking Sin's peck. I look up at him, ready to snarl at him but I stop short. Because he's doing that thing. The thing where his lips curl at the edges and if you look closely- you can almost call it a smile.
One of his hands rests around my waist and he squeezes. "Tell me again." He says and I can feel Arrow's eyes on us.
"Tell you what?" I try to step back but he tightens his hold.
"That you didn't know," I wish I could see some sort of vulnerability on his features but I can't. There's nothing. "That you didn't know about any of it."
I stare at his face. I want to brush my fingers down his perfectly angled cheek but I refrain. "I don't need to." I say, sounding surprisingly calm.
"Why not?" His eyes harden just a bit.
"Because you already know," I pause but I don't look away. "You might be a damn good actor, Sin, but that doesn't mean I am."
I expect his face to sour but it doesn't. He just cocks his head with mocking eyes. "Did I hurt your feelings?"
Yes. Faking feelings for me to get information certainly hurt my feelings more than I'd like to admit.
"No," I lie. "Just having a hard time figuring how what's real to you."
He loosens his grip but it's no less possessive. "I'm going to fuck you tonight," he says. "That's real."