Page 52 of Contempt

“I know,” Lucian murmured. “But that changed nothing between him and I … not to mention, them. The young man who died was involved in something bigger than what it probably looked like, and someone had to pay for that death. A deal was made between me, Renzo, and the organization. A … company called The League.”

“What is The League?”

Lucian laughed weakly. “That’s not as easy to answer, but I guess you could say they train people to do a great many things.”

That told her nothing.

“Like what?”

“Bad things; good things,” Lucian replied. “I’m not sure you would understand if I did attempt to—”

“Just say it.”

Lucian sighed. “An easy description would be that they train assassins, but it’s not as simple as that. Many of their members have a very specialized set of skills—they’re contracted out to people in four- or five-year increments, if that’s what they want to do.”

Lucia stilled. “A what?”

“You heard what I said,” her father returned quietly. “In his case—Renzo’s—he couldn’t choose to be contracted out for a term. He had to pay back a debt, so his contract was going to happen regardless. That was the deal. Five years of his life given to The League, and he had to follow their rules and demands during that time. I believe, from what I know, that one of those things was for him to stay away from here, and … well, you, too.”

Jesus Christ.

Was this real life?

“I have more questions,” Lucia admitted.

Lucian nodded. “Later, maybe? I’m feeling nauseous.”

Yeah, chemo was a bitch like that.

They didn’t get a later to talk about it. Just as her father was finishing his chemo treatment, and the nurse had come in to remove the port, two men darkened the doorway of the hospital room. She saw them first, and felt the pain that radiated from both of her uncles.

Giovanni.

Dante.

“Lucian,” Gio said quietly.

Yet, firmly.

Lucia saw her father’s back stiffen as he was reaching for his phone on the table next to the chair he used to sit in when he was getting his treatments. He straightened a hell of a lot slower than she had ever seen him do before, and turned around even slower to face his brothers where they stood in the doorway.

For a long time, nobody spoke.

They just … stared.

“Why?” Dante asked finally, breaking the silence. “Why, Lucian?”

Her father’s secret was out.

“How did you learn?” Lucian asked his brother.

Dante’s gaze darted to Lucia, and then went back to her father. “The driver for your daughter—he heard her say you were sick, and … word came around.”

“You mean, he ran right to you.”

“Yeah, well,” Dante countered, shrugging.

Gio laughed bleakly. “It should have been you. You should have been the one to tell us.”