Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(59)

Lily





Five Weeks Later





I’d gotten resettled in the apartment, or as settled as I could in the wreckage that was my life.

My quest, my promise to Braden had filled my thoughts and my time for so long, they had become like breathing. Then, Anton had entered, filling whatever space was left.

And now both were gone, and I was alone, had no clue what to do with myself.

I snuggled deeper in the sofa, the place where I spent most of my days now, trying to pretend like every single inch of this place didn’t remind me of him, trying to pretend that there would be a time that my heart didn’t hurt quite so much.

When the phone rang, I looked at it curiously, the sound so unusual that it took me a moment to figure out what it was.

I answered. “Hello?”

The voice on the other line sounded so official, the calculated preciseness in it making it all the more ominous.

“Lily Holan? We’re calling about your brother Braden.”





Twenty-Four





Anton





Sandu sat in the chair across from me, one where I had sat so many times before. He started to report as I had done so many times.

“The club is good,” he said.

“And the fights?” I asked.

He frowned slightly, exhaled. “They are…rowdy.”

“As is expected, correct?”

His frown deepened. “Yes, I suppose…”

“But?” I said, prodding.

“But things are getting out of hand more often. Boundaries are being pushed,” he replied.

“Ciprian and De Fiara?” I asked.

“Yes, among others,” Sandu replied.

“Keep watch. It may be time to move on,” I said.

He nodded. “Pa,” he said before he retreated.

I had been working from Christoph Senior’s home, at first from necessity, but as the days passed, it had begun to feel right. Not that I had gotten accustomed to sitting in his chair or being the one who made decisions, but being here felt good, and some small part of me thought that I was making Christoph Senior proud.

I looked up when I heard the door open, and Adela came in dressed in her finest, something she insisted on when she planned to travel.

“You’re settling in,” she said, gesturing toward where I sat, the same place her husband had sat, the place one of her sons should have been sitting. “You look right there. Your father would have been proud.”

Her word choice was deliberate, an acknowledgment, one of few, or an insult, one of many, I didn’t know. And I didn’t care to try to figure it out. Instead, I stood and walked to her. “You don’t have to go,” I said for probably the hundredth time since she’d made her announcement that she was returning to Romania.

“There’s nothing here for me, Anton,” she replied, tired, resigned.

Once upon a time, those words would have landed as an insult, but as I looked at her now, I felt none, felt nothing but compassion. She’d lost everything, including what I had always known was her hatred of me.

I watched her and then finally said, “You have everything you need?”

Adela nodded.

“Someone will drive you to the airport. If you ever need me…”

She nodded again, then turned to head toward the door.

“Adela…” I started, then trailed off.

She stopped, looked at me, waiting, and the question burned in my chest, one that had plagued me for my entire life. Adela watched me, then shook her head.

“I don’t know who she was, Anton.”

“How did you…?”

“Christoph Senior waited for you to ask for years. Expected it. Why didn’t you?”

I looked away from her, thoughts swirling. I finally shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was afraid of the answer. Why didn’t he ever tell me?”

She shrugged as well. “I guess he liked to think it didn’t matter.”

“So I’ll never know who my mother is or was,” I said.

“No. You won’t. But you deserve to. And you deserved better than I could ever have given you. I wish I could have been a mother to you, Anton.”

“You did the best you could,” I said.

“No. I didn’t even try,” she replied. “But it doesn’t matter now.”

She looked off wistfully, then turned her gaze back to me.

“You should forgive that girl for whatever she did. She loves you, and you love her.”

I clenched my teeth at the mention of Lily, too distracted by the pain and longing that even a mention of her stirred to ask how Adela knew about us.

“Some things can’t be forgiven,” I finally said.

“No, but some can. Find a way. Don’t end up alone.”

I watched her, and she smiled at me, something I couldn’t recall her ever doing, the expression sad and resigned.