Dragusha Revenge ✓Completed✓

MIRA

I yank my hand away. “Fine.” I’m ushered into the back of the town car. “Dad is not going to be happy when he hears how you treated me,” I say. Nothing. Ioannis gets in back with me. I look away from him, staring out the window. We’re heading downtown. Afternoon rush hour slows the traffic to a crawl. It’s nearly four by the time we make it into the hushed, dark lobby with the twin stallion statues and small fountain. The desk clerks key the elevator for the top floor.

Dad has a penthouse suite at this place that he sometimes uses. The elevator lurches upward. The ride seems fast. Something’s not right. The doors slide open to a small hallway with a few sets of double doors. Rondo guides me into the living room area, and there’s Bloody Lazarus with a big smile on his hard, angular face. He’s surrounded by a handful of his soldiers and lieutenants. My heart pounds. People are looking at me funny. The guys I know well aren’t saying anything. As if they’re holding their breath. I don’t see Dad. Lazarus clasps his hands over his suit jacket, beaming like the psycho that he is.

People who don’t know Lazarus think he has a nice smile, but when you know him, you know his smile is never nice. “Mira. Always a breath of fresh air. Look who’s here, Aldo.” I hear a wheezing sound from the corner of the room. “Mira.” Dad is slumped in the corner of the room, pale, wheezing. He’s in a bed of curtains below a tilted curtain rod, as if he pulled them down. I rush to his side. “Dad!” “Kitten.” All my anger evaporates, seeing him in danger. “Is it your heart?” Stupid question. Of course. I pull away the curtains and loosen his tie. “Did anybody call 911? He needs medical attention!” I look around at the dozen guys just standing there. “What the fuck?” I take out Tito’s phone. I don’t know the code but you can always dial 911..

Lazarus comes over and snatches it from my hand. “I don’t think so, Kitten.” He slips it in his pocket. “Say your goodbyes.” They won’t help him? My blood goes cold, and I see this for what it is: a takeover. All these men are loyal to Bloody Lazarus now. Why did they even keep him alive? In case they needed persuasion to get me here? Of course. I look into Dad’s eyes. He’s in pain. “Do you have your pills?” He moves his hand then and I see the blood he’s been stopping up with his hand, blood all over the white shirt under his jacket. Gutshot. “I tried to stop him—I’d hoped you’d be safe. But Jashari—the ME—he called me to tell me you’d been there, and Lazarus…” Lazarus was in control and sent people to get me. And predictably, I went to the cemetery..

Daddy.” Tears blur my vision. “Oh, Dad.” I take his other hand. He feels cold. I should hate him. Why can’t I make myself hate him? “I know what I did,” he whispers. “I know what Jashari told you.” “Why?” “She was going to take you away from me…never let me see you again. I couldn’t bear that.” “So you killed her?” “I was weak. I was wrong. I’m so sorry—I never meant to…” I’m sobbing. My voice sounds gravelly. “She was my mother!” “I won’t ask for your forgiveness—it was unforgivable, what I did.” His breathing is fucked up. I squeeze his hand

Every day I died a little, to see you sad. But you bounced back. Always so fierce and optimistic, my Mira. And the way you knew your own mind—you were a gift to me I never deserved.” Images tumble through my memory like bits in a kaleidoscope. Him swinging me around on the playground. The time we won the three-legged race. When he taught me how to sail out on Lake Geneva. Setting up that stupid blog as cover so I could be my own person. His crimes don’t erase that love, much as I wish they would. I wish it could be simple like that. “God, Dad,” I whisper. The guys are on the other side of the room, talking and laughing and smoking. Like it’s a party. “I had your back sometimes, didn’t I

You did.” This seems to hearten him. “You have to hang on,” I say. “I’m going to think of something. I’m getting you out of here.” A strange look comes over Dad’s face. “He didn’t do it.” He’s looking at my hand. My finger that’s supposedly gone. “Pull your sleeve over your hand. Don’t let Lazarus see.

I pull down my sleeve. His breathing is wrong. “Hang on, Dad.” “I wanted too much.” “Shhh. You’re okay.” “Lazarus is dangerous. I made him into a powerful monster. It’s right my monster should bite me, that you should hate me.” “Oh, Dad—” “I was so proud of you.” His voice is barely a whisper. “Listen, they’re mounting an attack on Aleksio and Little Vik. They figured out where they are from the GPS on the car you stole.” My eyes widen. “Shhh. Once they’re successful, they’ll kill you. You have to get away.” “He’s sending men to Aleksio’s now? How many?” Dad looks at me warily. “Everything. Those boys won’t survive it. It’s already too late.

My heart pounds. “You can survive it, though, Kitten. You will have one opening. Take your opening. This is the last thing I give you.” “Dad!” He squeezes my hand and fumbles with his lapel, pulls out a blade. I stare out in horror. He’s going out. He’s going to try to take Lazarus with him. “Call him over.” “No.” They’re arguing and laughing. Fuck! They’re going to surprise Aleksio. Kill him. Maybe he’s not back yet. But I’m sure he is. Tito said he’d be back in “a few.” It’s been more than a few. “Mira,” Dad says. “I won’t survive this. Let me choose this.” It can work for sure—it’ll take the focus off of me long enough for me to get out. Especially if he kills Lazarus. But it’s suicide. “Call him over.” “No!” He does it himself. “Lazarus! A word,” he calls. “A deal. A deal for my daughter’s life. A secret.” He nudges me away.

I stand, wrapping my arms around myself. I meet Dad’s eyes. He mouths the words, Got your back. Lazarus strolls over, stands towering over my father, there on the floor. “What?” He reaches an arm around my neck and pulls me to him before I can move any farther away. “Why kill her when she’s so pretty? Is that what you’re wondering? Maybe I’ll put her in Valhalla.”

My heart thunders. Whatever Valhalla is, I know it can’t be good. My father mumbles something. All I hear is “Barbados accounts.” Lazarus eases off, but he’s suspicious. I twist away. “He needs medical attention!” “Shut up,” Lazarus says. “What was that, old man?” My father mumbles something more about Barbados accounts. My heart pounds. I back away as Lazarus kneels in front of my father. My father grabs Lazarus’s tie. He’s going for his neck with the blade. Men close in. I head for the door, pull it open, and run like hell for the stairway down the hall.

Lazarus’s voice—“Get her!” I yank open the door, tears in my eyes. If Lazarus survived, it means that Dad didn’t. Footsteps behind me. Strong hands close onto my shoulders just as I hit the first landing. I kick and twist as Rondo drags me back into the suite, back to a smiling Lazarus. Dad’s lying in the corner at the foot of the drapes, eyes open, blood everywhere. I fall to my knees. Lazarus just smiles. “Sucks when things don’t work out how you plan.