Page 47 of Sing For Us

Sarajevo passes outside the window, but I don't see any of it. And a city that once felt like home is starting to suffocate me. My eyes stay fixed on the passing lights while my mind keeps replaying the same image over and over again.

My father covered in blood, and the carved M right above his heart.

Who the fuck are you?

We stop in front of the gates, and Faris kills the engine.

"We're here." I nod, but it takes me a second before I reach for the door handle. The house towers over me, exactly the way I remember it from the outside. The façade is there, but the inside has shifted. The warm feeling that my parents brought with them is replaced.

Cold. Imposing. Untouchable.

The front door swings open before I can reach it.

Emin stands in the entrance with a grim expression, stepping aside to let me in. The moment I cross the threshold, I notice we're not alone. Good.

Six familiar faces turn toward me, all of them men and women my father trusted enough to bring into his inner circle. People I've trained with. Bled with and killed with.

“We are so sorry–” Faris tries to apologize for my baba’s death, but I hold up my hand.

“Now it’s not the time to ponder on feelings that can be pushed down. Tell me everything you know.”

Nobody says they're sorry anymore.

They know better.

"I searched every room," Emin says. "So did everyone else. We went through the office, the bedrooms, the basement, even the safes. Nothing's missing."

"Nothing?"

He shakes his head. "Not a single document. Not a weapon. It's almost as if whoever came here wasn't looking for anything."

"We know who came." Every pair of eyes shifts to me, focusing on my cold tone. "He, M, came for my father."

Silence settles over the room.

I walk past them and into my father's office. The metallic scent of blood still hangs in the air despite the cleaners who already tried to erase it. They failed.

Blood always lingers.

My fingers trail over the edge of his desk until they stop at a silver picture frame. My parents smile back at me. They both look so happy.

"They don't know I exist," I say without looking away from the frame. "My parents spent their entire lives making sure of that. They sent me to Switzerland before anyone could connect me to this family. There are no records tying me to them. No public photographs. No one outside this room knows they ever had a daughter."

I finally turn around. "And I intend to keep it that way."

Emin folds his arms. "What are you thinking?"

Instead of answering, I reach into one of the drawers and pull out a passport and place it on the desk between us.

"The woman I killed three weeks ago doesn't need this anymore."

Confused looks spread through the room as Emin opens it. "Melina Osmic," he reads.

"From this moment on, that's who I am. I’ll keep the name Lana, but officially, I’ll be her."

"You've planned this."

"I prepare for every outcome. I’ll live in an awful apartment and do shitty jobs, not to draw any attention to myself. "