mine with a mixture of rage and fear. It’s so confusing but also so soothing. Perhaps it’s because he takes so much after Dad and Dad had always been the calm in the storm.
“Fuck, Zoe.” His fingers are coated with blood as he continues fixing the napkin. “Even if the bastard is your grandfather, he was hurting you.”
“He wasn’t hurting me, and he isn’t my grandfather.” My nails sink in the tiger tattoos as I gather the courage to say the words. “He’s yours.”
Shadow doesn’t stop wrapping the handkerchief. “Are you lightheaded already to start spouting nonsense?”
“That necklace Nonna found on you and you gave it to me is a necklace President Joe had specifically made for his grandson.” I go on and tell him the story President Joe told me and what I know.
The whole time, Shadow listens with a solemn face. He’s still putting pressure on my arm even though it’s not bleeding anymore, and the burn is a mere nuisance.
President Joe stands beside us with the necklace dangling from his fingers, hearing us word for word. The more I state facts about his grandson being alive, the more he watches Shadow with a stupefied expression as if he’s seeing a ghost. Which is true, more or less.
It’s been thirty-five years. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s thinking.
I palm Shadow’s cheek and finish with the most important words I wanted to tell him. “You haven’t been abandoned. You were never rubbish for your family. Your mum died from missing you and your dad… was the best dad anyone can ask for. He sacrificed his life for me when I wasn’t even his real daughter. You should be proud of them.”
“Why should I?” His voice is stone cold, face emotionless. “I don’t know them.”
I expected something – anything – but this cold reaction. It’s as if he doesn’t care for the suffering his parents went through.
“And this man,” he hooks a thumb at a slack-jawed President Joe, “should’ve protected his daughter instead of blaming other people for it.”
“Shadow!” I smack his arm. “He’s been in pain all this time. It’s all because of my mother, not him.” Tears barge into my eyes. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make amends for what she’s done.”
He places a hand behind my back and another underneath my legs. My good arm circles his strong neck as he carries me effortlessly. “We’re leaving.”
“Wait.” President Joe blocks Shadow’s way.
“Get out of my way or I’ll shoot you like I shot your underlings at the entrance.”
He would. I have no doubt that Shadow will finish President Joe’s life in a heartbeat.
I give a subtle shake of my head to the older man. Now isn’t the time to face Shadow. He probably needs space to deal with all of this. I know I would.
Even the guard tries to coax his boss back. He says in a low voice, “Our security is compromised. We should head down.”
President Joe doesn’t budge. He searches Shadow’s face as if he stumbled onto a long lost treasure. “You have Rachel’s nose. How come I was so blind to notice it?”
Shadow’s shoulders tense underneath my finger, but he strides forward, attempting to sidestep President Joe.
The latter thrusts a hand in front of him. “Don’t go.”
Shadow is about to say something — probably profanities — when quick footsteps sound from the stairs. The guard lunges to the door and Shadow’s muscles turn rigid.
Men dressed in black suits without ties barge into the room, raising guns and knives like in some action film. Only this is no fiction.
I shrink into Shadow’s hold, unable to suppress the bad feeling lodging at the back of my throat.
The men give way for another well-dressed man. He’s wearing a leather jacket and black trainers. His hair is slicked back too perfectly, it appears more greasy than shiny. The ugly scar ruins whatever model looks he’s trying to pull off.
Johnny.
Twirling a gun in hand, he stalks to the middle of the horde of men, a smug expression strapped over his features. He ran away like a rat from Shadow, but now that he has bodyguards, he appears so conceited like he owns the place.
The only unarmed man in Johnny’s crew stands on the side, carrying a black leather briefcase — that might as well contain a machine gun.
“Fucking Johnny.” President Joe spits out in a near growl. Gone is the softening man from earlier. His features regain the cold, ruthless appearance he’s known for. “What do