"A need for revenge can burn long and hot. Especially if every glance in a mirror reinforces it."
- Suzanne Collins -
Relentless.
Sleepless.
Anxious.
I had become an obsessive guardian.
I had intensified security measures to a suffocating level where even the house staff needed accompaniment in or out.
Unable to sleep most nights, I'd found myself positioned on the balcony, my sniper rifle never more than an arm's reach away. Each sound or movement in the darkness set my heart pounding. My state of constant high-alert was beginning to gnaw at the edges of my sanity, threatening to tip me over the edge.
My morning coffee sat undisturbed, steam drifting up to softly caress my face as I gazed at it blankly. The sharp trill of my phone shook me from my internal musings.
Just hearing the ringer lately seemed to trigger an adrenaline rush. A racing heartbeat, clammy palms...all classic symptoms of acute anxiety.
"Yes, Scotty?" I tried to answer with some semblance of calm, attempting to mask my frayed nerves.
I fought the overwhelming temptation to grip the phone so tightly that it would snap in half.
"You're skipping the office again, boss?" Scott queried, worry bleeding into his tone.
Exhaling an involuntary sigh, I could almost see it fog up in front of me. How I longed for things to be normal again.
I wished work wasn't as relentless as it currently was. "Just tell me where I need to be, Scott." I swallowed, my words clouded with fatigue and strained tension.
"You've got a meeting with Taylor Williams at 2:00 and a status conference at 3:00," he updated me.
"Alright. Expect me there in an hour or so," I promised, hanging up before I allowed my worries to hijack the conversation.
Work seemed an overwhelming struggle, with the backdrop of ever-looming danger and my constantly agitated mind.
Sawyer walked in, the sheer lack of cheer on his face confirming our worst suspicions – we were still leagues away from discovering who the old man was.
"Sorry I don't have the news you're hoping for," he apologized, his head hanging in shame.
"Don't beat yourself up about it," I said, pulling myself up from behind the desk and heading his way, "You're the best man I have. If you can't find him, no one can."
"But we have to!" The underlying note of desperation was painfully palpable in Sawyer’s usually steady voice. "It's clear that he's been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment, and now that he's sent us a direct threat, it's even clearer that he won't wait much longer to make a move."
I swallowed hard as the terrifying reality hit me once again. Sawyer had only spoken the ugly truth, the one I was constantly trying to push to the back of my mind. The impending threat from the old man seemed more real and imminent than ever before. The clock was ticking down to his strike, a moment that was to put everything I cherished at risk.
And I was nowhere near prepared for it.
But how do you prepare for the unseen, the unknown? The enemy that skulks in shadows, immune to every feeble attempt I make to find him.
An unknown enemy...and there is nothing more dangerous than that.
"Hey, got room for one more?" Uncle Ben's familiar voice sliced through the hush, just as his knuckles gently thudded against the wood of the door.
"Of course!" I answered, my tone more upbeat than I felt, straining to pull my facial muscles into something akin to a natural smile.
Stepping inside, Uncle Ben scanned the room, his eyes flicking between me and Sawyer, before resting on the weighty look that had seemingly attached itself to both of our faces. "What's going on? His voice took on a graver tone.
An exchanged glance between Sawyer and I told us all we needed to know. There was no way we could drag Uncle Ben into this mess. I wanted to protect him, just like he had done for us over the years.
"Nothing," Sawyer and I retorted at the same time. Our synchronization startled even me.
I forced myself to interject again before he could press any further. "Everything's fine," I claimed, injecting as much reassurance into my tone as I could manage, while a plastered smile served as backup.
Uncle Ben didn't appear to be swallowing that little lie. Making his way towards us, he sat himself on the plush cushions of the couch facing me.
"Kid, you better learn how to lie a hell of a lot better than that, " he laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Do you really believe I wouldn't realize something's wrong when you've spent most of your waking and non-waking hours confined to this study? It's not exactly a secret hideaway, you know?"
In that moment, I found myself frozen. I knew he deserved to know what was happening. He had every right. But at the same time, I wanted him far away from it. Straddling that emotional conflict, words refused to find a way out.
Gathering my strength, I strode back to my desk, my fingertips brushing against the cold, metal handle of the second drawer. Gingerly, I retrieved the sealed envelope from its hiding place. With heavy feet, I returned to him, reluctantly extending the packet towards Uncle Ben.
Wasting no time, he tore into the envelope, flipping through its contents. The pictures evoked a mixture of disgust and terror that crept into his features.
"Who the hell would do something like this?" he muttered in disbelief, pausing his tirade only to flip the pictures over, turning his attention to the menacing letter that accompanied them.
My eyes watched as he slowly skimmed the letter, fury reflecting in his eyes as they consumed the damning words. "Just who is this bastard? And why the heck does he think he has the upper hand here?" he finally exploded, shattering the silence.
His rage demanded answers I couldn't offer.
"I have no idea," My words wavered in their confession. "Whoever this faceless enemy is, he seems to have the home field advantage, keeping a step or ten ahead, with full knowledge of every intimate detail of my life, my family. How do we fight an enemy that has complete control, while we're running blind? He's left us light years behind and I have no fucking idea how to catch up!"
Uncle Ben pushed himself to his feet and began to tread back and forth, an unfocused, distant look in his eyes as he kept flipping the letter in his hands. "She's a remarkable woman, your grandmother," he mused aloud. "Frankie, I think she's still alive."
At his assertion, I bolted to my feet and rushed towards him, reclaiming the letter to pore over its contents again. I read intently, focusing on the part where the old man had mentioned my grandmother. Indeed, there were subtle signs pointing to my grandmother's existence.
She might actually be alive.
My world spun. "Did my father ever talk about his family?" I gasped, reeling from the revelation.
"He didn't say much." Uncle Ben was at my side, watching me fumble over the whirlwind of events. "He was fond of reminiscing about his mother, that I know. He also told me that his parents were both long dead, hence why I'm just as lost as you about all this."
I was just as confused as him. Was it possible that our dad had lied to us? If he did, what was his reason? My mind was all over the place and I felt like my head was about to blow.
Days lingered, excruciatingly sluggish, as I grappled with the enormous task of rebuilding my physical strength. Physical therapy sessions were excruciating, every agonizing movement echoing throughout my being, each forced exercise a teeth-gritting, throat-tearing struggle against weakness. The white-hot flare of pain, however, didn't intimidate me. I bore it, compelled by an invisible urgency. I knew that I needed to walk again, run again, fight again. Francesca needed my protection now more than ever.
"Come si sente il mio figlio preferito oggi? (How's my favorite son feeling today?)" My father's voice cut through the echoes of pain in my room, as cheerful and resonant as ever.
He carried a tray heaped with food in his hands, and his beaming smile did more to heal me than the food ever could.
"Mi sento incredibilmente fortunato, (I feel incredibly fortunate)" I confessed, grinning through my discomfort. "Avere il grande Don in persona che mi aspetta a portata di mano è una vera delizia. (having the great Don himself waiting on me hand and foot is quite the treat)"
A robust chuckle escaped him, the laughter lines around his eyes crinkling fondly as he took his seat beside my bed.
"Ricordi quando eri piccolo? Ho fatto tutto per te, vero? Ti ho nutrito, ti ho vestito, ti ho insegnato, (remember when you were small? I did it all for you, didn't I? Fed you, dressed you, taught you)" he jested, poking my shoulder playfully.
"Quelli erano i bei giorni, padre. Li ricordo così vividamente, (those were the good days, Father. I recall them so vividly)" I sighed, the sweetness of my memories washing over me in a nostalgic wave.
"Ma sul serio, (but seriously)" my father's jovial expression dimmed as his concerned eyes took me in, "Come ti senti veramente oggi? (how do you really feel today?)"
"Sto migliorando. Giorno per giorno, (I am improving. Day by day)" I offered. I hesitated before adding, "Ma mi preoccupo per Francesca. (but I worry about Francesca)"
"Lo sono anche io, (I am too)" he agreed somberly. "Ho incaricato un paio di uomini di trovare l'uomo più anziano di cui Francesca continua a parlare, ma senza alcun risultato. È come inseguire uno spettro. (I've set a couple of men on finding the older man Francesca keeps mentioning, but to no avail. It's like chasing a specter)"
Our shared apprehensions hung in the air between us, rudely interrupted by the harsh ring of his phone. Glancing at the screen, he picked up the call, and his lighthearted demeanor fell away as he heard what was relayed.
"Chi era? (Who was it?)" I ventured, an anxious knot twisting in my gut as I watched his frowning face.
"Sawyer," my father informed me tersely.
"Sawyer Huxley?" I echoed in disbelief.
The surprise I felt at the mention of Sawyer Huxley left me open-mouthed. "Come diavolo si inserisce in tutto questo? (how in the world does he fit into this?)" I managed to stutter.
"Il suo ruolo in questo caos è irrilevante al momento, (his role in this chaos is irrelevant at the moment)" he said. "L'importante è che il vecchio sia stato in contatto con Francesca. (what is important is that the old man has been in touch with Francesca)"
I felt my blood run cold, the thought of her being involved any further inciting a furious anger in me. "Cosa vuole questa volta? (what does he want this time?)" I ground out, trying to control the storm inside me.
My father looked into my eyes, his own blazing with raw anger, "La sta minacciando. (he's threatening her)"
His answer unleashed an icy wave of rage inside me. "In nome di Dio, cosa vuole questo da Francesca? Chi è lui? (what in God's name does this he want with Francesca? Who is he?)" I demanded, struggling to control the wildfire of fury within me.
My father's silence was troubling. I could see a battle raging within him, and the hesitation made my heart race. "Credo, figliolo, (I believe, son)" he confessed quietly, "che non sta cercando Francesca. Mi sta cercando. (that he is not after Francesca. He is after me)"
My eyes widened, disbelief replaced with confusion. "chi è lui, padre? (who is he, father?)"
It took him another agonizing minute before he breathed out the name. A name that should've been left buried deep in the past, a name I thought I’d never have to hear again, a name that shook me to my core, "Luigi Pagano."
My world came to a screeching halt at that name. That name that haunted my nightmares, was now resurrected in my reality. The impossibility of it was staggering.
I tapped out the last word on the last report of the day. "Alright, I'm outta here. Catch y'all on the flipside," I said as I crammed my stuff into my bag.
"Peace out, Jay," Replied rookie Sean.
As I trekked towards my ride, the Chicago streets were a ghost town, thanks to the brutal winter Mother Nature was unleashing on the Windy City. When I rolled up to my place, it was eerie, with the neighborhood sunk in darkness. But I brushed it off, figuring it was nothing to sweat about.
Suddenly, I was damn near blinded by the full blast headlights from a bunch of rides boxing me in. I narrowed my eyes, straining to see who was sitting pretty behind those wheels. Engines revved up, shooting out a loud warning that spelled trouble.
Deciding to sit tight, rather than risking whatever was coming my way near my family. "If you got beef, step up and own it like a man!" I yelled out into the darkness, frustration seeping through my voice.
Almost instantly, doors of the rides were swung open and a mob of men stepped out, zeroing in on me. Their cold gaze scoping me up and down. Standing in the spotlight of their car beams, it didn't take me a hot minute to recognize Daniel Pierce and his goons. They inched in closer, their malicious grins growing wider, intending to trap me with no chance of escaping.
I smirked, not exactly shocked that Pierce finally got the guts after me. "Well, well, well... Look what the cat dragged in... Daniel Pierce and his homies," I mocked, letting my gaze sweep around him challengingly.
Tossing my bag away, I dropped into my fighter's stance. After all, it wasn't my first time on this dance floor. No doubt this was gonna be a nasty scrap, especially with seven against one. Not a fair fight by any stretch of the imagination.
Despite the sheer numbers against me, I held my own. With each rapid move I made, the heavy punches I landed, I put their sorry asses to the pavement, broke some bones, and even busted some ankles. All the years I put in learning Jujitsu came to use, allowing me to give Daniel Pierce a smashing blow to his smug face, crushing his nose. But, I ain't stupid, I knew the tides were bound to turn and before I knew it, I was bombarded.
The bastards showed no mercy, as fists and kicks kept coming until I crumbled onto the frigid concrete, battered, bloody, and fading.
"You shoulda kept your damn nose outta our biz, Detective!" Daniel sneered, laying into my ribs with a vicious kick.
"You ain't gonna shake this one off so easily, Pierce," I spat out through the pain and blood pooling in my mouth.
"Yeah, we'll see about that, detective." Pierce landed another brutal kick, each one chipping away at my remaining consciousness.
No matter how hard I fought to hang on, darkness was slowly seeping in, engulfing my vision and taking me under, leaving me convulsing in pain on the freezing concrete.