Silence.
Score 1.
“I know you’re out of the building alone,” the man informed her. Ah, the ever-faithful spies. Of course, he had people watching.
“And?”
“You’ve been branded a traitor, Morana. This territory will no longer be safe for you. You’ll be hunted and brought to me for justice, if not killed immediately.”
Morana shook her head. “You care too much about your reputation to do that to me, father. Your name is everything to you. A daughter sleeping with the enemy? Oh, you’d bury the news so deep into the ground it’d never see the light of the day.”
She paused, taking a deep breath. “Isn’t that why the news about my kidnapping was never known?”
Morana heard her father’s breaths catch.
He waited a beat, then ground out, his accent more pronounced. “That fucking vermin! He was a good for nothing brat then and he’s a good for nothing brat now. What did the shit tell you?”
Interesting.
Morana blinked up at the sky, seeing the clouds rolling in overhead, the wind picking up pace.
“What do you think?” Morana bluffed, keeping her voice controlled, seeing what else she could glean. “I know, father.”
She heard his breaths on the phone, deep breaths, clearly trying to control his agitation.
“You know everything?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you’re right,” he spoke finally, his voice so cold it sent a shiver down her spine. “I do care about my reputation. I have worked too hard for too many years to let this get in the way.”
Morana frowned, trying to piece together everything her father said.
“You’ve known for a while now, haven’t you?”
She continued to bluff. “Yes, I have.”
“You should have died,” her father repeated the words from the other night. “At least I wouldn’t have had to deal with you all these years.”
Morana stayed quiet, letting him talk.
“You’ve spurned me, shamed me, and now you know the truth about us. You’ve not only signed your death warrant, Morana. You’ve signed his too.”
Her mind spun, not just because of the severity of the threats but because of what he’d said.
‘Truth about us?’
To whom was her father referring?
“Starting now, you’re dead to me.”
The line went dead.
Morana looked at the phone, another hard shiver wracking her body, goosebumps erupting all over her arms.
She looked around, seeing the secluded area for the first time as not the safe haven it was but the perfect spot to dispose of a dead body. Her senses went tingling with dread.
Urgency hit her suddenly.
She needed to get back to the penthouse, to safety. Now.
Pocketing her phone, she stood up quickly and started walking towards the gate of the graveyard a good distance away, beyond which her car stood waiting for her. Hastening her steps, she kept her senses vigilant, looking around and over her shoulders, seeing nothing but graves and grass and trees at the far edge on this side of the fence in the utter quiet.
The wrought iron gate came into view, and Morana could see her car a little beyond that.
Releasing a sigh of relief, she sped up to a jog and exited the graveyard.
It was perhaps because she was on alert for anything out of place combined with the absolute silence that she heard the little beep she would have otherwise missed as she neared her car.
The sound came again, like a whip cracking on the ground before meeting flesh, making her heart pound as blood rushed through her body in a tsunami.
Stopping exactly where she was, Morana dropped to her knees and leaned over to look under her car, her hands scraping in the dirt and her body ready to jump and run if what she suspected was true.
It was true.
A small black box was hooked under her car, a red dot of a light blinking on it with every alternate beep. Since there was no timer, it meant that it was controlled remotely. Which meant someone had been watching and waiting for her to come near enough.
Heart in her throat, adrenaline flushing her system, Morana pushed back and stood, turning and running back towards the graveyard without wasting a breath. Blood pounded in her ears and the muscles in her calf burned. Little pebbles got under the sole of her flats but she continued to run, feeling a stitch on her side, just as the ground beneath her feet started to rumble.
Oh god, not now.
With a burst of speed, not looking back even once, just as a plane roared into the sky, a hot gust of wind blew into her from behind, forcing her onto the ground. Heat seared her back as she fell on her front, the breath knocked out of her, the exposed skin at her neck and arms singed as the fabric tore at her back.
Panting, Morana rolled onto her back, wincing with pain as she put pressure on the sensitive skin, the wound in her arm bleeding again, dirt coating her skin, as she looked back at the gate.
A sob broke from her chest.
Her car.
Burning in flames.
No, god, no.
The sight seared itself into her vision, the tall flames of orange licking the red of her car, sucking its life away, turning it into charred black right before her eyes.
Tears escaped her eyes as she looked at the one friend, the one constant she’d had for so long, be brutally murdered, pain and rage suffusing her with every passing moment. That car had been her freedom, her escape, her companion. That car had held her when she’d shouted songs at the top of her lungs and when she’d broken down in tears, delivering her to safety.
That car.
Her car.
Morana looked at it, sobs bursting from her chest. Her father had done this. His men had done this.
For one long minute, she stared at the burning mass of metal, mourned it for one long minute. Then, she buried the pain deep inside and let the rage take over.
The men had to be nearby, to make sure she was dead, and to get the proof for their boss.
Standing up, she wiped under her eyes and pulled out her gun from her waistband.
They wanted death? She’d deliver it on a fucking platter with blood on the side.
Wiping the remnants of all tears, Morana let the heat infuse her, and crouched down, creeping slowly towards the road from the inside, clearing her mind of all thoughts, all pain in her body ignored.
After a few minutes of nearing the edge, the black SUV her father’s goons used came into view, parked a good distance away.
Morana stayed crouched low, recognizing them.
Two men. Only two men sent to take care of his daughter. But two of his closest men.
Too bad.
The men stood beside the vehicle, their gazes on the burning wreck where they thought she would be.
She needed to take them out, make an example of her own, and send her father a clear message. Nobody messed with hers and got away with it unscathed. No one.
She knew she couldn’t shoot one without alerting the other, and her body couldn’t handle a fight injured if she was spotted. It needed to be quick, efficient. Narrowing her eyes, Morana pointed the gun at the vehicle, at the gas tank to be specific, getting a clear shot from her vantage.
Her hand shook slightly, but she steadied it.
Set an example. Tell Daddy Dearest to fuck off.
Taking a deep breath, Morana closed one eye, took her aim, and fired.
The SUV was intact one second, blown up the next. It wasn’t like in the movies at all. It was done and over within seconds. She watched even as her arm recoiled as the same flames licked the vehicle and her father’s men along with it. She dropped down on her ass, exhausted, on the cold ground, feeling no satisfaction, nothing but emptiness.