16. Hellena

16

HELLENA

“ W hy don't we step inside? See what you think of the place.” Her voice is sharp, but icy cool, with a hint of a Southern accent.

My back straightens, tightening as I feel the cold steel of the gun against my neck. It makes me feel panicked. It was a mistake to come here.

My heart is pounding, my mouth instantly dry.

Stay calm.

Find out why you’re here . She wouldn’t have lured me out here just to kill me when she knew where I was hiding, right?

I swallow, trying to force myself to think. “I have no clue where we are. And for the record, I think the place looks like shit. Not that it matters.”

“It could matter.”

“Stop acting like you have some almighty upper hand here,” I growl, keeping my hands up.

“I always have the upper hand. Don’t forget it.” She’s a cocky one, that’s for sure.

“Good for you. You got me. Was that your plan, to show me up? I came. Alone, like you said.”

“Wise. And no, I didn’t just call you out to confirm that I’m better than you. There was never a question.”

“So, what, are you going to threaten me? Torture me for information? Or are you going to actually tell me why the fuck I'm here?”

“Sassy, aren’t you?”

“I bet you don’t even know anything about my father.”

“Oh, I do know a lot about him.”

“That makes one of us. I never knew the guy.” Not really. My only memories of him are sparse, happy, but ephemeral.

“Hmm, that’s a shame. He was one of a kind. Then again…”

“Enough. Tell me what’s going on. And while you’re at it, tell me who you are, too!” The words are all bluster. I hope I don’t sound as terrified as I am.

But it seems to work.

“My, my. You certainly are Demon Damon Michaels’s daughter. And you're saying you never really knew him?”

“None of your business, actually.”

“Actually, you, your daddy, you are all my business.”

“I only lived with him when I was really little.” I don't know why I'm admitting this to her.

She clearly seems to know my father, though, so she's already a step ahead of me.

“Go on, now. Head inside and we’ll talk.”

I turn the knob, unsurprisingly unlocked, and the door swings back. A creak squeals in the hinges, adding to the eerie quality of the early morning, the silence in the woods around us. Inside, the house is dark, creepy as hell.

I tilt my head to the side, trying to peer over my shoulder to get a look at the woman threatening me with a gun. It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s probably the same woman who attacked Gavin and Evan. And the same person who shot me.

Although that last one might be a stretch.

But my gut’s rarely been wrong before. It’s squirming in terror right now.

“Sometime this century, Michaels.”

“How about no? Not until you get that fucking thing out of my face and treat me like a regular person.”

“And let you try to make a mad dash for your car? Hell no. I’d have to shoot you, and then tie you up, and… big ol’ mess.”

“I won’t run. Just… please. Fill me in and stop toying with me!” I snap.

Her chuckle in response has my hackles rising. She is pushing me to my limits.

“Damn, girl. You've got some big brass balls, don't you?”

“I just don't like guns. Okay? And I’ve found I generally don't like the people who point them at me.” My teeth grind as she nudges me once with the barrel, clearly trying to make me lose it.

Breathe. Breathe. Clear your head.

I stay still, staring straight ahead, until the pressure disappears and I hear her holster the weapon.

“That's fair enough. I don't know of anybody who likes a gun pointed at ’em, to be honest.”

She talks like we're old friends. Like we've known each other for years.

One long sigh later, I’m stepping into the house. It’s musty, a little dank.

I take a turn of the small living room, the bulk of the house stretching undivided from the living room right into the dining room and into the kitchen. It’s tiny, to be honest.

The dingy couch is the only seat aside from the single chair at the table, covered in a patina of dust. Everything is, like no one has been here for a few years.

And I have a pretty good idea of who the last person was.

Something about the place feels familiar.

The woman saunters inside, pushing the door closed. In the shadowed entryway, I can just make out her features, clad in a black leather jacket, tight fitting utility pants, and calf-high boots. The early morning light clipping through the closed shutters casts her in stark relief.

Still, she’s clearly attractive.

Stunning, in fact.

“Don’t suppose the lights work?” I drawl, poking my tongue into my bottom lip and raising an eyebrow.

“Who knows?” She flicks the switch. “Nope, looks like Daddy didn’t pay the bills.”

“Yours or mine?” I quip, turning and wandering around the back of the couch toward a large wooden buffet table along the back wall. A few picture frames sit face down along its dust-whitened surface. I hesitate to flip them over, for some reason, feeling squeamish all of a sudden.

“Clever. Would you believe me if I said that assumption would be pretty close either way?” Her voice is sharp, meaningful, but filled with a hint of humor and mockery. “Except it was my grandfather who was from the Harbor originally. My daddy brought me hunting near there a few times, though.”

Hunting for people?

I bite my tongue to keep from insulting her outright.

“Seems like all roads lead back to Sanctum.” I huff a humorless laugh as I look back toward her, narrowing my eyes. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here. Not really. Not unless you just happened to stop in for a trip down memory lane?”

“Hardly.” She sighs, stepping into the room and slapping the window slats open one by one. Several clatter to the floor, snapping off their hinges.

She frowns down at the mess, shaking her head.

“What do I have to do with any of this? What do you want?”

“I want some answers. I want to understand why I was hired to come here.”

“How would I know? Who do you think I am?”

“I’m starting to doubt that myself. You know, I don’t think this place was in very good condition to begin with. Sorry.” A shutter falls off on the outside of the house.

I flinch. “Why?”

“Because it’s yours. This place. I mean, technically .” She turns to face me.

The improved lighting illuminates her features, revealing a sharp nose, high cheekbones, and a smooth, stark jawline. She’s cut, almost chiseled. Several scars mar her face. Even so, her features are bold, but still very attractive.

The whole package is tied off at the top with a tight, blonde ponytail. Pragmatic, but she clearly still takes care of herself.

Presents herself well.

A hint of eyeshadow and mascara tell more than I’m sure she’d admit.

“Happy now?”

“Hardly. But at least now I have a face to go with the dislike.”

“Ooh, you’re fun.” She rolls her shoulders in a sort of challenge, showing off the fact that she has several inches on me, not to mention the fact that she’s clearly ripped.

“How about a fucking name, or anything, really?” My initial fear is fading, replaced by anger. Irritation. Whether she’s going to kill me or not, she’s wasting my time.

“Are you going to stop cussing at me and have a civil conversation? Sheesh, I know you didn’t grow up with a father, but have some manners.”

Manners? Is she fucking kidding?

“Fuck you. I don’t like getting played. Sue me if I’m a little mad about it, huh?”

“No one is trying to play you, Hellena. Well, I’m not. Someone is, and they’re trying to play me too. I don’t take well to it.”

“Except you keep giving me that look, like you can’t stand the sight of me. Like you want to put a bullet through my head.”

“Not exactly…” she clips out, her expression going blank.

“So, what, then?”

“You just…”

“What?”

“You look just like him, for fuck’s sake!” She throws up her hands, losing her stiff stance and slumping forward, dropping the tough girl act. “I mean, not necessarily all of… that.”

She gestures vaguely to my face and chest. “Obviously. But like, the way you stand, the way you talk, the way you glare at me like you can see what I’m thinking and could kill me with a stare!”

I almost blurt out a laugh at the statement. “You’re joking.”

“I wish. Your dad was…”

“I’ve heard.”

“No. He was something else. And whatever that was, you’ve got it too. I’m Alaya.” The slender woman extends her hand.

I nod once instead, folding my arms. “Alaya…?”

“That’s all you’re getting for now.”

“To keep me at a disadvantage?”

“Just cause you don’t need to know more.”

“Fine. I take it you knew my father.”

“She’s clever, too!” she mocks, grinning in a feline way that makes my skin crawl. “Sorry, cynicism and sarcasm are my love languages.”

“Stop acting like we’re friends.”

“Oh, we are so definitely not friends, missy. We’re family !”

“Bullshit!”

“See? Just like sisters, maybe cousins. Estranged and twice removed.”

“I would really like to remove something right about now.” Namely, her head from her shoulders. Or at least my ears so I don’t have to listen to this anymore. “So, did you meet my dad in the military, or…?

“Nah. He was already out when I served. I met your father after I was dishonorably discharged from the navy.”

“Dishonorably discharged, huh? I wonder why that happened?” I sneer, watching her hand still resting on her holster.

“I guess it was my fault, ultimately.” Alaya shrugs.

“Maybe because you're a conniving bitch?”

Her expression drops immediately, her eyes going cold. “Don’t you dare ever call me that. And be oh, so careful casting aspersions, little miss. You do not know me.”

“I know people. It’s one of my many talents.”

“Yeah, well you might know how I am. But not why I am that way. You try getting assaulted on a ship full of men who won’t lift a fucking finger to stop it and see how kind and caring you stay.”

My mouth goes dry.

“I guess I was lucky they didn’t court-martial me when I made my point .” The knife is out and pointed toward me faster than I can register. “And what a point I made. Right down through his limp little?—”

“I’m sorry.” I cut her off, not wanting the mental picture her words force into my head.

“Long time ago.” And just like that, her glib, casual manner returns.

“So, you met Damon…?” I swallow, looking for a possible way out, just in case. The only other door leads into what I assume is a bedroom.

“I'm getting there. If we’re done with rude interruptions?”

I bite my lip, my anger flaring back to life. This b—woman—is driving me nuts.

“Do you want to sit down? Have some tea? Chat it out like gal pals?”

“I get it. Please continue.”

“Damon sought me out. Scouted me to join his crew. I worked for him for years. He was like a father to me. More like an uncle or older brother, actually. Taught me to use the skills my family imparted to me, that the military refined, to do what I thought was some good in this world.”

“What happened?”

“We were the best, is what happened. We were deadly. All thanks to your father. He led us, trained us. We lived together. Studied together. A family.”

“Family, huh? Why do I get the impression that you betrayed that family?”

“I didn’t betray anyone. All of us were betrayed. One of our guys took a bribe, abandoned his post on a mission.”

She steps toward me, pulling her jacket off and slinging it over the chair. “I got shot three times because we didn’t have covering fire. Four of our people didn’t make it out alive.”

Her body is fit, muscular.

In spite of her powerful frame, she still has curves, an ass, pert tits. I finally get a better bead on her age, probably mid-thirties. Everything about her is confidence. Control.

“It was all downhill after that. We were on the run. Sold out.”

“Is that when Damon came to Sanctum?”

“No. That wasn’t until a few years later, from what I heard. Our unit fell apart. Scattered. All but the last three of us. Until they left me for dead.”

“Why would my father do that?”

“Dead weight? Too much work? I don’t know. All I know is, we got in a fight, an argument. He left that night, and I tried to follow him. Someone found out where we were and hit the whole place. Boom .

“I woke up a few months later in a Mongolian hospital. It took me a year to recover, another year to remember who I was.” Her tone veers toward bitterness again. “Sorry. Sore subject.”

She snaps back to the present, blinking away her rage.

I lean against the counter for a few seconds, trying to decide how to approach this without giving too much information away.

“So, what are you doing here, Alaya? In Sanctum. Why did you contact me?”

Although I have a pretty good idea that she was hired to shoot me and Rachelle. The thought makes me want to recoil, run.

“Because there's some things that I need to know. You see, I was hired for a job. It brought me to town. I completed it. But there were way too many questions left on the table and puzzle piecesthat didn't fit together.”

“Welcome to my entire life.”

“Exactly. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I found Damon’s daughter when I came to shoot her aunt.”

The words sink in, making me ice cold again.

She’s disarming, I’ll give her that. But she’s still the person who tried to kill me.

“I apologize for shooting you, by the way. I got a little caught up in the moment. See, I hate when I’m lied to. And I had just found out that my orders were tampered with and that someone I knew was still around.”

In the back of my head, something clicks. I don’t know why it didn’t register before. The fact that she worked with my dad. The third person she spoke of in her remaining team.

It has to be Gavin.

But the fact that she hasn’t said more about him makes me think she doesn’t know exactly where to find him.

So, I hold back, not wanting to give him up. Even if she really does know him, there’s a good chance he doesn’t want her to find him.

And I really don’t want her to find him, either.

“I can understand that. But why were you hired to shoot Rachelle?”

“That is the real question. It ties into why I got in touch. And why I am glad I didn’t kill you.”

“You think the people who hired you to shoot her were connected to my dad’s death?” I head into the kitchen. It puts the table between us, getting a better view of the room and trying to create a line of sight to the door. I doubt I could get past her, but I need to stay ready.

“There’s no doubt. But first, I need to make sure you are aware of a few things so that you can hopefully answer a few of my questions about this weird ass town.”

I press my lips together, realizing where this is going.

“Damon was involved with a certain clandestine organization here in Sanctum Harbor.” She says it tentatively, waiting for a response.

I stare at her, revealing nothing. It’s a bit of a stalemate, neither of us wanting to give up our trump card, not knowing what the other already knows.

“Come on. I know you know what I'm talking about. Your aunt works for them too, right?”

“Ugh. Fine. I am aware of the…” I tilt my head expectantly.

“The Sinful, The Sinful, yes!”

I smile, nodding like I tricked her.

She squints at me suddenly, trying to decide whether I got her to spill a secret or I already knew.

“Ah. You little… Oh, I see. You knew exactly what I was getting at.”

“I wanted to make sure.” I shrug.

“Well, if you already know everything, little miss smartass, I’ll just go.”

“No, wait!” I lurch forward, reaching out as she turns away.

Of course she was bluffing. Dammit. “You know, you are really hard not to antagonize,” I grit out.

“I know. I'm pretty antagonistic. Cocks to clubs, you’re a bit of a prickly pear yourself, Hell.”

“Don’t call me that. I’ve had a rough time lately. You know, getting shot , auctioned off.”

“Do tell! That’s precisely what I am trying to figure out. Who is controlling whom?”

“We… I am trying to find that out. But every time I get close to any answers, everything blows up.”

“I can relate, honey. I can relate . Seems like I get blindsided around every corner. My safehouse was invaded. I lost the only clues I had in that safe your boys took.”

I grimace again, debating whether or not to confirm her suspicions.

“All I know is, those Sinful were already killing each other off fifty some years ago. Grandpa took out the fella in the mansion up on the ridge. That’s how I knew about the place and who lived there. I didn’t think anything else of it until I got hired to take out a few of them several years ago. Same setup. Outside of town. Panic room. Secret files. Well, the ones that hadn’t been cleaned out.”

“And my dad? How did you find out he was one of them?”

“I ran into your father when I came back into town a few years later. He was in deep. He worked with the Sinful for years. He lived out here for years. Something not a lot of people are supposed to know about.”

“Yet he told you? Why would he do that?”

“There’s that Michaels wit. You’re finally asking the right questions.”

“Did he hire you to take out his rivals?” I ask the question rhetorically, my mind racing over the possibilities. “No… he wouldn’t do that. Not knowing that you could find out who he was and that he was here. Not after leaving you to die…”

It forms like a fog in my head, the sinking feeling dropping before the realization.

“Yes, keep goin! Gah! I swear it’s like you’re him, standing right here in this kitchen, having a gab with me. Which also just so happens to be the last place I saw him.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is where I killed him. Your dad.”

My brain implodes.

Alaya sighs, her shoulders slumping dramatically, like she’s put out it took me so long to figure it out, like she’s been wanting to get it off her chest.

A deathly calm settles over me, the noise quieting.

“You’re really gonna stand there and calmly tell me that you murdered my father.”

“It was a hit, honey. A hit I gladly took on because when I found out who the hit was, I nearly shat a brick. What luck! The man who left me to die, set up for me to get vengeance on. And get paid to do it!”

I gape at her, indignation and hate blazing in my chest.

“You’re a murderer.”

“I am a hit-woman, you silly girl. Even if I hadn’t had a vendetta, I would have taken the job. But this one? I knew I couldn't resist. You see, I’m not the type to let things go. Ever.”

“I get it. You're a force to be reckoned with. You're a woman scorned! Boo-hoo!” I shout, slamming my hand on the table. “Been there. Done that. And currently planning my retaliation!”

Alaya looks taken aback for a second, shocked.

“Should I add you to my list?” I finish, staring her down.

“My, my. You do have a backbone, girl. I'll give you that. I even kind of like you. Especially that mouth you got on you.”

“Don't you fucking start with me,” I clap back, taking another step forward.

She taps the handle of her gun in her holster. “Don’t you think for a second that you can intimidate me. And do not step to me, girl . Or I will step back .” The murderous look in her eyes gives me pause.

“Fuck you. You’re insane.”

“Oh, no, sweetie. I’m many things, but not that. He was, though. Your old man.”

“There’s nothing you can say to justify any of this!”

“Oh, really?” She grins, a wild look in her eyes. “Who the fuck do you think hired me to kill him?”

It stops me dead in my tracks, my rant dying on my lips.

“You’re saying… he hired you to kill him?”

“Look, I don't really get it myself. I’m sure he had his reasons. And I didn’t find out until after the fact.”

“Get out.”

“Just like that? I showed you your father's hideout. This is the place he died. I’ve searched it top to bottom, but I haven’t found anything. Hopefully, you can.”

“Why are you helping me?” I growl, clenching my fists at my sides. I've had it up to here with this bitch.

“I'm helping you because I have unfinished business like you, and I know how that can be. I never found out who killed my daddy, either. Haunted me for years. Figured I owed you that much.”

“And what, I owe you now?”

“Nah. We’re even. But if you find out anything about the Sinful and who they are, I would be much obliged if you passed it along to me.”

“Why would I tell you if I did find out?”

“Because at least one of them wanted to own you, manipulate you. You said so yourself. Not to mention your little friends. And one of them wanted your aunt shot and knew how to contact me to get it done. Suspicious?”

“What isn’t,” I grumble. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But don’t count on my reaching out.” I stand my ground, hoping she’ll be the first to leave.

“I’ll be around, either way.” She winks, turning and striding toward the door.

I swallow hard, fighting back tears in my eyes.

Not because I'm losing my shit, but because I'm so fucking angry.

Alaya pauses in the doorway, looking back at me. “Tell Gavin I said ‘Hi’.”

The sinking feeling in my chest collapses completely.

“And tell him he's never getting his ring back. I took it to the grave, so to speak .”