Page 40 of Tied

The shocked gasp that leaves my lips now is not part of my act. Because despite the very different circumstances that shaped our lives so far, I know very well what it’s like to lose your parents at a young age.

“It was meant as a warning, really,” Cain elaborates. “Killing my mother was meant to keep my father in place, the unspoken threat that he could also lose his son hanging over his head unless he continued working for them.”

“Then what happened?” I probe as Cain takes another deep breath to collect himself.

“We fled,” he goes on. “My father went home, packed a suitcase, drove up to my school, pulled me out of class and right into the car, and then we fled the state. We drove for days before he decided it was safer to leave the car behind. He drove it into a lake and then we found the nearest airport to book a flight up north.”

“Canada?”

He nods. “That was the idea at first, but it didn’t last long. I think he mostly wanted people to think we were in Canada, but we were actually hiding out in Montana. It was not the worst idea. It worked for almost five years.”

“That’s when they found you?”

Cain pauses again, and I can feel his hand twitching beneath mine.

“That’s when they found us,” he confirms. “They ambushed us at home on a Friday night. We were living in a small cabin out in the woods, and my dad stepped out into the back yard to get some firewood when they got him. They used silencers, but the sound was still loud enough for me to know immediately what was going on. I actually saw my father drop to the ground when the bullets hit him.”

My heart is racing as Cain is telling his story. I can’t imagine what he must have gone through. To have your mother killed when you’re still in elementary school, then hiding out in the middle of nowhere for years just to have the only person who can protect you shot right in front of you.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, and the compassion in my voice is real this time. “I can’t even imagine… You must have been so terrified.”

Much to my surprise, Cain shrugs in response to my consolation.

“At that very moment, I was angry more than anything,” he tells me. “My dad and I, we had just regained a sense of normalcy. I was going back to school, he had a regular job, our lives were no longer governed by fear and grief. It was as if those bastards had just waited for the perfect time to take it all away again. I was scared, yes, but first and foremost, I was fucking furious. So, after seeing my dad shot dead out in the back yard, instead of doing the smart thing and hiding or running away, I grabbed one of the guns we had stored around the house and ran outside to confront them—”

He pauses because I can’t suppress a shocked gasp at this part of his tale.

“You confronted them?” I ask with disbelief. “How are you still alive?”

“I’m still alive because—believe it or not—the Covey doesn’t kill children,” Cain reveals, adding a sinister chuckle. “It was only two guys, both of them standing so far away that I would have never hit them even if I did pull the trigger. They saw me standing there, pointing a gun at them with my shaking hands while shouting obscenities. One of them did raise his gun at me, on instinct, I assume. But the other yelled at him to stop, reasoning that I was ‘just a child’.”

He huffs with disgust, shaking his head as he repeats, “Just a child. Just a fucking child.”

“I’m so sor—”

“That’s when I swore,” he interrupts me. “That’s when I swore to get my revenge. I didn’t shoot at the guys, even when they turned their backs to me and disappeared into the dark. I knew it wouldn’t be enough, even if I managed to kill them. They were nothing but henchmen, men like my father. Men who got roped into something they couldn’t get out of, even if they wanted to. Killing them wouldn’t have done anything for me.”

He raises his gaze to meet mine now, deep-seated hate marking his expression in visible lines across his face.

“There’s only one thing that will ever give me any peace of mind, only one way to make sure that what happened to my family will not happen to others,” he hisses. “To bring the Covey down once and for all. I have dedicated my life to that mission, and I won’t rest until it’s done.”

Heavy silence cloaks us as he lets the words sink in, and I feel the weight of them even more when he places his other hand on top of mine.

“I have tried many approaches over the years, but none ever came as close to execution as this plan,” he reveals.

“Why is that?” I breathe.

“Because nothing was ever as promising as this idea. The Covey is used to violent assaults involving gunfire and combat. It’s their daily business, just like infiltration and backstabbing are,” he explains. “But they have never been attacked on this level. They never had the very basis of their shadowy existence threatened, not even by the police. I know it will work, I know it will bring them down, because they don’t expect it.”

He squeezes my hand between his, adding urgency to his words when he concludes.

“But I can’t do it without you, Riley,” he insists. “And it needs to happen soon.”

---