Page 100 of Scarred Redemption

“You’re aware of what’s happening in the business.”

“Business is going very well even after the warehouse fire. You’ve certainly made the company and my bank account that much richer.”

“I think you know what I mean, Pops.”

“You mean with Mina.”

“She’s alive.”

He almost dropped the cigar, finally narrowing his eyes after a few seconds. “My grandbaby is alive?”

“Yes, so is the woman who saved her now twice. She escaped with Mina and found her way back home.”

“There is a God above.”

“No, Pops. You know better than that, at least not one for men like us.”

“You’re very angry for a man who had his life returned.”

“I’m angry because the person responsible for everything that’s happened in my life, including Anastasia’s death is still breathing.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not following you. You’re certain the same person is responsible?”

“I am.” I studied his reaction and while my father was the master of presenting a mask that never wavered, I noticed a tiny flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “But you suspected the person responsible for the murder of my wife had resurfaced, killing my child and the woman who’d finally broken through the veil of suffering I’ve been under for over five years. Didn’t you?”

He slowly lowered his glass from his lips, the cigar no longer in his mouth.

“Didn’t you?” I pressed, my voice little more than a thick, enraged growl.

As I would have expected, my father did nothing more than pull the cigar to his lips. I’d been angry with him many times over the years. He was often cold and uncaring, acting as if his two sons were nothing more than bothersome while also finding it necessary to control our lives. I’d both respected and hated him to the point I’d considered disappearing.

Now?

Now, I felt nothing inside.

Without taking my eyes off him, I pulled the photograph from my jacket, sliding it across the coffee table in his direction. Saying nothing, I sat back in my seat, swirling the liquid in my glass.

I was fascinated by how long it took him to finally lean over and take the photograph into his gnarled fingers. For whatever reason, while he was studying the details, I was remembering the two times his fingers had been broken and the man refusing to go to another doctor.

Always Dr. Isatov.

My father was a proud man, refusing to believe in modern science. He felt it too intrusive, too untrustworthy. If I hadn’t been exposed to Mina’s cancer, perhaps I would have followed in his ridiculous footsteps.

His silence became oppressive. Annoying.

“There is a good chance Mina has cancer once again. After surviving one kidnapping attempt to face almost a month in a cold, dark warehouse with another, now it’s possible she must fight for her life again. Do you understand what I’m telling you? Your granddaughter beat the odds as a baby only to have my legacy wrapped around her neck like a heavy iron anchor. But the fate presented to her by her birth alone wasn’t enough. Even after my enemy, which is truly your enemy, has placed a target on her head, even that isn’t satisfactory. The gods want her suffering until the day she dies. A child. A six-year-old child.”

He fingered the picture before looking away and quite frankly, I’d had enough of my father’s insolence and silence.

I leaned forward, slamming my fist on the coffee table and for the first time that I could remember, he jumped. As if fearful I would lash out. Perhaps that’s what I needed to do.

As I scrubbed my face, I allowed the vicious thoughts to linger in my mind, furrowing in the darkest of places. “You knew or at least suspected at the funeral who was behind the shitshow. Yet you didn’t tell me. When you heard I was suffering, barely able to function, you said nothing. Not a damn word. Do you want to know who the hero is in all this? Isabel. Isabel Dayne, whose father is likely the man standing with you in that picture. What was he called? Ah, yes, the Butcher.”

Laughing, I noticed he winced as if I’d slapped him. At this point, I wanted to do much more.

“You don’t understand, son.” His voice was quieter than normal, reserved in a way I wasn’t used to hearing. My father was loud and proud of it.

“What could I possibly not understand? That this man murdered my wife. Burned her alive and left me with these scars and a child without her mother. Fast forward five years, another attempt, this time using my child against me. Thankfully, I had a guardian angel on my shoulder. She kept Mina from being abducted from her school. Now, that likely pissed off the Butcher, which was why he made an attempt on my life. Clean. Simple. Satisfaction. But lo and behold, she interfered with the operation although unable to save the life of a man I thought you considered a friend. So he switched gears to my business, sending me a message, but burning down my warehouse full of product and killing several of my men. I retaliated because I found the man’s strongarm. The Dixie mafia.”