I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and two glasses, serving for both of us. I walked over to Jonathan and gave him his glass, sitting back down on the chair of my father's office. He had left with Diego and squadron of men to Rome. My father is a big player in Italy. He has a few powerful contacts that he could task with deterring the feds away.
Elijah sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking back at the screen. "I, uh, I haven't heard back anything substantial from the people we sent to Colombia. It's pretty quiet over there. The police got involved, trying to figure out who started the fires, but it's not looking good. They have confirmed everyone to be... to be dead."
Jonathan breathed out shakily, swirling the liquor in his cup. "Did they find Jessica's body among any of the bodies?"
"No," Elijah shook his head. "They're still looking, but..."
"But what?" I asked. My tone was harsher than I intended.
"Colombia is a big place when you're wanted dead, Anastasia. With the gang down, everyone else is fighting for the top spot. It's a terrible time for our men to show they are on your side. It'll get them all killed."
"I want my sister found, Elijah," I warned him. "And I want her found alive."
He nodded, "I know you do. And we will find her. We'll find her alive and we'll bring her here. Just... we can't be rash and get those men killed."
I brought the glass to my lips and gulped the entire content in one go. The liquor burned my throat, feeling a twisted kind of good. "Good. Have you spoken to Dad?"
"Yes," Elijah said. "He said he was speaking with one of his contacts in the Carabinieri, trying to get them to put off the feds."
"And if they don't?" Jonathan asked.
"If they don't," Elijah sighed. "Well, then we'll have to take more... direct measures. Hit them where it will take away any desire they have to go after us."
"Great," I quipped. "We don't need no fucking feds here anyway. Has anyone spoke with Jason? To see if he can do anything about it from America?"
"Your father was going to speak to him if it got worse, but it's better not make matters worse by involving more gangs."
Before I could respond, my phone started ringing. I answered upon seeing Martin's, leader of the Colombian mafia's, number.
"Hello?" I put his call on speaker.
"Anastasia?"
"Si, Martin, how are you?"
"I'm good, mi niña, how are you?"
I sighed, "in desperate need to hear news about my sister, Martin. You got any?"
"I wish I could say yes, kiddo. I been having my people searching for your sister since you asked, but I haven't gotten much. Everything around here is too chaotic with the news of Dinastía being down. And since your brother isn't here, things are getting tough."
"You hang in there, Martin. Thank you for your help," I told him. "And, please, be careful. These psychos are going after all the major players right now. There's no one bigger than you left in Colombia."
"Claro que si! I'll be alright. You two stay safe. You know you can call me if you need anything."
"I know, Martin. Thank you."
"Adios!"
Elijah blew out a breath, smacking his hands down onto the couch armrests before getting up. "I've got to do general security rounds. Call if me you need anything."
I gave him a lazy salute, "yes, sir."
He ruffled my hair and walked to the door. Right before leaving the office, he turned to me. "And, please, don't get drunk."
I smiled, "sorry, sir. Can't promise that."
He scoffed, shaking his head as he walked out the door.
I leaned over to grab the bottle of whiskey from the table, filling up my glass. I expected Jonathan to say something about it, but he stayed quiet. He was staring into his glass, still swirling the liquid around.
I brought my glass to my lips, taking a small sip. Today has been fucking ridiculous. I've spent it making phone calls to Colombia and answering them too. I've been holed up in this office, stressing myself out over the disappearance of my sister. Why is it always the sister? First Veronica, then Rayaan's sister, then Mateo's and now mine? What the fuck. Tired, I leaned my head back into my seat and closed my eyes.
We were able to bask in about a minute of silence before Jonathan spoke. "I feel fucked up right now." His tone was exhausted. He sounded like he was so done, he could laugh.
"How's that?" I all, but mumbled.
I heard him take a sip of his drink before answering. "I feel this rage in my heart, angered at someone killing my people, but..."
"But?"
He laughed bitterly, "but, at the same time, I feel relieved. Elated. Sky fucking high."
That made my eyes open. I stared back at my brother, frowning and confused. "Huh?"
"Yeah," he cocked his head, as if incredulous. "I guess that after we killed Dad-- I mean, uh, Michael. After we killed Michael, I've been so confused as to what I was doing leading his gang. It feels so... wrong."
I understood where he was coming from. I reached over to hold his hand. "Well, he's still your dad. He was always good to you guys. In some twisted way, he cared for you, Jess and Mariana. It's normal to feel confused. Besides, I'm pretty sure he did everything undercover. His--your people knew nothing about it."
Jonathan stared at our hands together, a frown on his face. He shook his head slightly before he pulled his hand away. "I don't mean because he killed our mom. If that was it, I wouldn't have taken over since the beginning."
"Then what?"
He took in a deep breath, lifting his head to stare at the ceiling and blowing it back out. "You never--" His mouth clamped shut. Jonathan swallowed hard, his lips rolling into his mouth. He turned his head to look at me, eyes in pain. "You never told us about what he... about what he did to you. About how he-- how he abused you."
My lips parted in shock. I have no idea what it was that paralyzed my entire body, but I couldn't find myself being able to use my tongue. "Jonathan, I... don't."
His frown deepened, eyes staring at me desperately. "How come we didn't know? I never even suspected it. Not even fucking once. All those times you appeared bruised... y-you had said it was because you got into fights at school. Was that all a lie? Was it him every time? Why didn't you ever tell us? I thought I was the one with the big secret, but fuck!"
The horrible feeling of numbness ran through my body, making me feel dead all over. It happened every time Michael was mentioned to me. Every time I remembered anything of him. I think my body adopted it as the best defense mechanism. The best way to deal with the underlying rage and pain. "I don't want to talk about it."
"So what?" He sounded angry now. His breathing grew heavier. "Am I supposed to live with the fact that my own sister was abused right under my nose and I never fucking saw it. That I was fucking clueless. That I was ignorant to it. That I... that I let it happen? How do I live with that? How do you?"
"It's not your fault," I shook my head at him. "You were never supposed to know. Never supposed to find out. You can't blame yourself for that."
"Did mom know?" The way his voice cracked when he mentioned her made it harder for me to want to answer.
Building all the courage I could find, I shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"What do you mean?" When I looked at him, his eyes were brimming with tears.
I looked away, feeling the guilt of making him feel this way. He was never supposed to know. That was the first rule. It was between Michael and I. Our secret, our business. Years worth of reciting, of learning. Of being indoctrinated to the point where I still believe every one of his words.
Father is always right. I deserve what I got. I should never question father. I should never mention this to anyone.
And, holy shit, did I believe him. Hell, sometimes I feel like I still do. Like I have to hold our secret. Take it to the grave. As if I owed it to him, to myself. But it was excruciating to do so. It consumed me to the point that feeling dead was the only way I could deal with it. Because being dead is the only way it won't follow me around.
"Michael, he..." But why would I owe anything to him. To the one who broke me down and never finished putting me back together? Why? "He had told me she knew about their plans for me. But I... I never knew if she knew about his way of... disciplining me, or if she just pretended."
Jonathan wiped his eyes frustratingly. "So why did he kill her? If she was on his side, why did she die?"
I laughed, feeling as if this whole thing was a joke. I was tired of all of it. They were dead, but it just never ended. "He had told me it was because she started warming up to me. So, he had to get her out of the way."
"Warming up to you? She started caring for you?" He looked so angered that it hurt.
I nodded.
"Que putas," he whispered. "So those times... those times that you came bruised."
Shrugging, I drank some whiskey. "Sometimes I actually got into real fights. Me being a bitchy hothead wasn't an act, you know. But sometimes... yeah. Sometimes it was because I had gotten into trouble and he wanted to correct me."
"Correct you?" He sounded scandalized. "He was a fucking piece of shit. He abused you. What do you mean correct you? Did he brainwash you?"
Anger rushed through me and I got up, downing the entire glass, the burn of the liquor fueling me more. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Jonathan. It's old news. They're dead, it doesn't matter."
He stood up after me, getting in my face. "It's not over if you're not healed from it--"
"Healed? I'm fucking fine!"
"You said he tried to discipline you. That he was correcting you," he took a step closer, making me stumble back. "A few seconds ago you were trying to make me feel okay with being conflicted over hating his guts. You're clearly still not over it. And how could you be? Even dead my father is ruining your fucking life!"
I laughed, "and how would you even know? You don't live here. You don't know what I'm like, Jonathan. What happened to me is my business, I'll see how I fucking deal with it."
He narrowed his eyes at me, "they don't know, do they? None of them know what happened to you. I bet you've kept everything about from them."
"No, they don't know. And they don't need to. You didn't either. It was nothing, so just drop it. He hit me a few times because I acted out, it happens!"
"You said he beat you till you bled!" He shouted at me. My mouth shut tight, my heart stopping. "You told him that when we saw him in Indonesia. That's not a few times. That little statement has kept me up at night for the past three years, Tasia. It's made my life fucking hell because two of the people I loved the most hurt another person I loved. Because my baby sister was being abused and I fucking let it happen. I let it happen!"
"You didn't," I said softly. "You didn't know. You were like fourteen anyway, what could you have done? Besides, I told you, we hid it from everyone. You weren't supposed to know."
"We, we, we," he got angrier by the word. "You talk as if you had the choice to go along with it. You tell me that I shouldn't blame myself, when it's all you do. When you act as if it was your fault that he was such a fucking monster!"
"Because it is!" I shouted back. "Because I am too! Because the reason he chose me to be the fucking monster and the one he should train to be a killing machine was that he knew I could. Because I am so fucked up in every way possible and he knew that. All he did was use that to his advantage. All he did was upgrade what was already there. I was already like this."
He shook his head at me, tears spilling from his eyes. "He made you believe that. You were a child, how could you have--"
"There were simple rules!" I cut him off, so angry that I was unable to cry. "I just didn't get in trouble and it would be fine. I just kept quiet and it would be fine. I broke those rules, time and time again. I knew the consequences and I still broke them. I knew the punishment and I still broke them. He just owned up to his word. He just... he just fulfilled his promise. And when he left, I kept doing what I was told not to do. I kept being disobedient. So, who's the monster then? Huh? How can you tell me it wasn't my--"
"You were fucking four!" He shouted again. "You were a child, how the fuck would you have known!? He isn't a fucking hero and he didn't just upgrade shit! He used you and he hurt you on purpose. You have to realize that or it'll kill you your whole life! You were a victim! You have no fault at all!"
Before I could answer back, the door opened. I took in a sharp breath, afraid of who was on the other side.
Rayaan stuck his head inside, "Anastasia?"
I took a breath, composing myself. "Yes?"
"We need you at the computer room. There's some... news."
I frowned, making my way to him. "Did something happen?"
He exhaled, as if he could believe what he was going to say. "I think I found my sister."
***
Update, yay!