Page 24 of From the Ashes

Kaos: How do I know this isn’t a trap?

Unknown: You don’t.

I stare at the threat, considering whether I should reply or not. It’s more than likely my dad. While the apartment was never a secret and there are plenty of people who know we lived there, I wouldn’t expect anyone to use it to lure me out.

The thing I’m not so sure about is going alone. Even if everything the others are saying is true and he’s out for blood, I don’t think he’ll hurt me. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Maybe I’m kidding myself.

I stare at the time for a few seconds as I think through my options. It’s already six. If I’m going to go, I need to leave soon or I won’t make it in time, but it would be reckless to meet him without telling anyone, even for me.

A few more seconds pass before I decide I at least need to fill them in, just in case this is a trap. I shove away from the desk and stalk toward Crew’s office. He never leaves the thing at the best of times, but now that Camilla’s gone, I doubt we’ll get him out of there for anything other than a shower and food.

Bishop’s office door is wide open as I approach, and I hear hushed voices the closer I get, making me pause.

“We may not have a choice, Bishop. If it comes down to him or one of us or Camilla, I know what decision I’m going to make every single time.”

“I know,” Bishop whispers. “I just wish we didn’t have to go behind his back with it.”

“He’ll come around,” Crew assures him, and my stomach drops.

Are they talking about killing my dad? I can’t allow that to happen again, especially without knowing if he’s a threat to any of us for sure.

Anger beats down on me as I head for the elevator. I have a tracker, if they need me, they’ll find me, but I’m sure as hell not going to help them hurt the man I spent years grieving now that he’s back.

An hour later, I pull the nondescript sedan we use for stakeouts down the street from the park, my stomach flip-flopping in a way that’s unfamiliar. I don’t get nervous. Ever. Not when I was a teenager. Not when we took our places within the Syndicate. Not even when I first killed a man. Even when I was the nice one of the group, I was always confident in every decision I made.

But this feels wrong.

I left the compound in anger, and now that I’m here, I’m worried it may have been a rash decision, which is not something I’m known for.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shoot off a message in the group chat to let them know where I am and what I’m doing. It’ll take them too long to get across the city, so there’s no way they’ll get here before this is over, and if it looks like it’s going to go for longer than I think it will, we can always move to a second location.

I take a few extra seconds to force a mask into place. I don’t normally need to wear one, that’s more Bishop and Crew’s thing, but right now I need it.

Once I’m sure I have my shit together, I push my way out of the car and move toward the park, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The area isn’t the worst in the city, but I wouldn’t exactly call it safe either, and there’s any number of things that could go wrong.

It’s not until I’m walking toward the rusted playground that I notice a figure sitting on the bench, and I know immediately it’s my father.

I close the distance between us and don’t hesitate to sit down beside him, leaving plenty of space between us. Again, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me, but I’m also not willing to risk it.

“You came,” he says, and I take a moment to look him over. He looks different than he did before his supposed death. His hair has grown out around his shoulders, a few strands of gray among the dark locks. There are a few extra lines on his face, and I’m reminded of how much older he is than Crew. The ten years between them shouldn’t be such a huge difference, but looking at him now compared to my uncle seems like apples and oranges.

I nod. “I did.”

“I’m sure you have questions.”

I half laugh, my head dropping back to stare at the cloudy night. “You could say that.”

“So ask them.”

“Where the fuck have you been? Why didn’t you ever tell us you were still alive? And why are you trying to kill Camilla?”

I turn my body toward him, holding his eyes as he considers each of the questions I’ve asked.

“I should have reached out before I did. It took a few months to get back on my feet, and by that time, the four of you had moved on with your lives, so I took some time away. There was a lot that happened behind the scenes between Crew and I that you never saw, and it was the first time in my life that I’d been able to just think about myself.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I snap. “I’m your son. I don’t give a fuck if there was shit between you and Crew that I didn’t know, you should have told me.”

He nods solemnly, his gaze staring at the decrepit playground and avoiding my eyes. “I should have. But I didn’t want the others to know I was alive. I knew they’d come for me if they knew.”

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