Page 90 of Heirs of Havoc

I don’t know what’s inside the box and I don’t know if I want to.

“Maybe we just burn it?” Chaya suggests. Both of us stare at the box on the bed, standing a couple of feet back like it’s a bomb about to detonate. “Is it a bomb?” Chaya reads my mind.

Taking a step forward, I listen for a click. Something. Anything. But this isn’t a James Bond movie and if you haven’t noticed by now, I have no idea what I’m doing. “I don’t know.”

“Your name on the box, your call,” Chaya leaves it in my court, but she reaches for my hand, taking it in hers. “Whatever you wanna do, I have your back. But don’t get us killed, alright?” I think she’s joking but her nervous laughter makes me wonder. As far as I know, I’m the Angel of Death because everything that comes near me suffers or dies.

"Don't be a wuss."

“Fuck it.” Moving towards the box, my hands hover above it before I take it in my hands. “It’s only a box, right?”

“I mean, that’s an understatement, given the circumstances.”

“It could be answers.” And lord knows I need them.

“Or, you know, a bomb.”

With a deep breath, I find the courage to untie the ribbon. With another, I pull off the lid.

Chaya gasps.

But looking at it, I can’t tell why. A bunch of white tissue paper greets me, like a gift from a department store.

Chaya apologizes, “Sorry, the anticipation was killing me.”

“Killing me too.” So with that I pull the tissue paper out, throwing caution to the wind and… okay, now I’m gasping.

“What?” Chaya asks, taking a sweeping step back. “What is it?”

My head tilts to the side. “A note.” A thick beige card sits on top of a framed photo, but that isn’t exactly what alarms me.

My dad’s signature does. It’s easy to see from here.

My head whips to the window.

Does he know I’m here?

Before I go any further, I move to the window. Pulling the turquoise curtains closed, the room darkens around us.

“Mia?” Chaya follows me with her eyes, glancing between the box and I. “You gonna tell me what's going on?"

“My dad.”

Stopping beside her, I glare at the card, reading it again.

Dear daughter,

You know I still love you,

Martin Merlo.

Like a psycho, he doesn’t even sign it “Dad” like a regular parent.

Glancing at Chaya, her thick brows raise. “Do you want me to look first?”

I’m a big girl. I need to own this. But to be honest, I’m still very fucking afraid.

I nod before she moves towards the card, picking it up. She flips it over, taking her time like she’s as afraid as I am. There’s nothing on the other side, so she flips it over before she reads it. “Dear daughter…” I already know what it says, but that’s not what makes her voice muffle out.

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