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I open my mouth to speak—to discuss what the next step is, to discuss how we’ll introduce her to our world—when footsteps ring out behind me.
I immediately tense, but since Mikhail barely reacts, I have no reason to.
I glance over my shoulder, watching as our father steps into the gym with us. He’s a tall man, his broad frame blocking out most of the light from the hallway, as his presence fills the room. It’s not only his size that demands attention; it’s the way that he carries himself.
He walks with a purpose, with eyes as blue as Mikhail’s and mine, never missing anything. The sharpness in them tells me that he’s been thinking about this situation—our very own captive—for far too long now.
He stops walking when he’s standing beside us both, his hair neatly combed back, his face clearly showing the weightof his experience, and authority too. A silent moment passes between us before he speaks.
“We have news.” He begins to say, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that immediately draws my full attention. “Somebody has made contact. The Italian princess is alive.”
I feel my chest tighten with every word that leaves his mouth, but I don't let it show on my face.
Neither does Mikhail.
We school our features, keeping our stances relaxed. My eyes remain trained on our father, unwilling to give anything away.
In return, his eyes flicker between both of us, and although he doesn’t say anything, I know what he expects of us.
He wants us to act, to bring the Italian princess to safety, and to reunite her with her family.
It’s a pity that won’t be happening.
I glance over towards my brother who remains just as calm as me, his posture unfazed. As our father continues, I move my eyes back on him.
“They don’t know the people behind this, or the motive for this, but we cannot afford to underestimate this situation any longer. It has been four weeks now, my sons. Four gruelling weeks in which a father, and a brother, have suffered.”
Again, he drags his eyes between us both, making sure that we understand the full weight of his words.
“The Italians are dangerous when they feel threatened, and this girl is important to them. We need to make sure that she is found, and that she is alive and well.” He pauses, his jaw tightening, as he releases a steady breath. He closes his eyes, a slither of vulnerability washing over his ageing face, before he looks at both of us again. “She is rumoured to be held captive in Arizona. Go, my sons, and find her. Return her to her family.”
My chest tightens as I force a sharp breath out, but my face remains impassive.
Arizona?
What. The. Fuck.
Who the fuck came up with that idea?
“Arizona is Cartel territory. What interest do they have with some girl?”
Our father shakes his head at Mikhail’s question, clearly as confused as we are.
“Like I said, she isrumouredto be there. Nothing has been proven yet. Perhaps you two will do a better job of finding her than the Italians have.”
I close my eyes momentarily, breathing out heavily.
Fuck.
This is creating a whole new world of problems.
Our father has no idea.
The Italian princess he so desperately wants to save?
She’s hidden in plain sight, right under his roof.
He has no idea that she’s already been found—taken—and is safe too.