Page 59 of Taking Over the Dark

“And why are you in here all alone?”

“Doc was working on a patient earlier, and I was mindlessly watching, but they’ve been done for a while now… I needed to get away from all the keyboard tapping and the hostile environment of looking for Z’s dad. I know it’s selfish, but I’ve killed my dad already, and I want to live in that peace for a little while.”

“That doesn’t make you selfish, Nash. You’ve lived a hard life with your dad, and you’re finally free of that man. You’re not used to living in this turmoil, so understandably, you need a break from all of them—all the testosterone.” I make a show of holding my nose and fake gagging, which finally gets him to laugh.

He turns back, looking into where we were not even a week ago, waking up from the worst experience of our lives. “I know all that, but my brain won’t chill out. I need to start therapy again. When I moved, I stopped for a while, but I will email her and get her hired back on.” I nod in response because, in all honesty, we probably all need therapy.

The only other thing we can do without leaving the warehouse is go to the gym. I ask him, “Want to go to the gym in here? That always helps clear my head when I’m overstimulated and overthinking. I could use a good workout right about now.

* decode - Maggie Lindermann

THIRTY-EIGHT

ZAMIR

Arben explains, “He has to be in some kind of bunker, or he’s keeping his phone in a Faraday bag… we haven’t heard or seen a goddamn thing since he got back in the city after killing Vito.”

Marcello and I got Alex and Arben out of their locked rooms early this morning, and we’ve been working with Noah to figure out where my dad could be. And we haven’t had any luck figuring out where he is. I know he can’t have any allies here in Vegas. People aren’t stupid enough to cross Marcello, but I know he didn’t head back to Chicago, either. Alex made a coast-wide announcement that he’s now the head of the Prifti family business due to his father’s tragic passing, and with that announcement came a picture of my dad with a price on his head.

Alex had everything in place for when his dad and mine inevitably fucked up, knowing it was needed to protect our family name and the people of his city. Trafficking has slowed down heavily in Chicago from what we’ve heard, and understanding the cause is from Vito and Agron being gone hits me hard in the chest. Plus, the pipeline for the Russians being shut off from Marfa’s dad being taken out here makes my soulhurt for the families that have been affected by everyone running the tracking ring.

Noah and Arben have been searching CCTV footage from all over the city, with no hits coming back with matches.

I’ve given up at this point, doom scrolling socials when my phone vibrates with a call.

My fucking father’s name pops up.

Or whoever may have him or his phone at this point.

I wave my phone screen to everyone in the room, and Noah and Arben are tapping away, trying to pinpoint where he’s calling from.

?*I slide to accept the call. “Hello.”

“Zamir? It’s your dad.”

What the hell is he talking about? “Yeah, I have your number saved…”

“Are you okay?” Why is he suddenly acting like he cares?

Marcello’s brows pull together, so I ask my dad, “What do you want? Or the bigger question, what have you done?”

My dad’s quick to quip, “Nothing.” Noah gives me a nod that they have his location, so I’m about to hang up and head straight to him to slit his goddamn throat, but he starts to say something. “I’m sorry, Zamir…”

I sit here in silence, letting his words sink in. But I’m quick to remember every minuscule bad thing he’s ever done to me or someone I love.

“No you’re not. You don’t have the capability to be sorry.”

“How can I show you that I am?”

My eyes widen to Marcello, and he starts pointing to the ground.

“Meet me. I need to see you and your expressions.”

“Send me the address.”

And with that, I hang up and send the address to the warehouse over to him.

Marcello’s brows are pulled so high, touching the few pieces that have fallen to the front of his face. “Do you think he’s dumb enough to come here alone?”

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