Page 17 of Sing For Us

Noa

I’m back in my villa and am met with five angry assassins. Josh and Oliver are standing at my makeshift bar, pouring themselves a drink; Adam is sitting next to Sara, and they are both staring daggers at me; and Hana is looking through the files I stole from Lana.

“I’m going to start talking, and all of you are going to listen.” Sara’s voice is low, but menacing. Her cadence indicates that we need to all listen to her otherwise, she is going to fuck us up.

“You know I always listen to you, little raven,” Adam says to her in a sweet tone. She swats his arm, but there is no humor on her face.

“Shut up, Adam, this is serious. You,” she points at me, “I don’t know how you thought that your little operation was smart. What were you thinking of?”

I look at her and start blinking fast. “How to take L-her down.” Sara catches onto my hesitation about uttering her name, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Even though I have known Adam for far longer than Sara, she knows me better. She and Alina see right through me.

“Fine. Hana, have you found anything interesting in those files?” she asks my cousin. Every gaze is turned towards Hana, and she straightens her back.

“Every piece of paper in here is interesting, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Oliver responds to her statement. “Nothing that indicates why she wants Noa dead?”

“No. But this is still valuable information. We can keep an eye on her employees.”

“I think we should split the number of employees between us so we can follow them.” Josh proposes, and everybody nods. But I don’t.

“No. We are going to kill every single last one of them.” My order makes all of their heads turn toward me, and they are looking at me like I have planned something ridiculous. Their mouths are hanging open, but one person is sticking out like a sore thumb: Adam. He is sighing heavily, and he is moving his mouth from left to right.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” I snap at him. Sara is starting to stand up, but he stops her by kissing the top of her head and winking at her. He stays sitting beside her.

“I’m looking at someone who is running away and…” He stops himself by breathing in and out.

“Come on, Adam. You have seen and heard stuff that shook your core, and now you can’t find it in yourself to finish your sentence.” I scoff at him. Because what the fuck is his problem?

“Noa, you are treading on thin ice.”

“No, Adam, you are not being truthful. I command you to talk and to–”

Oh shit.

“There it is,” Adam tells me with a concerned look. “You are starting to sound like Dario.” The mention of my father’s name is sending me into a dark abyss, and he knows it. It’s like I’m swimming into a dark sea whenever his name pops up in a conversation, especially when I’m being compared to him. But Adam is right. What I just said to him is something my father said to his men when they were not being straightforward.

I shake my head. “I’m nothing like him.”

“Yes, you are. Josh and Oliver know it as well.” I look at my two friends, and they are holding out their arms as if to say what the fuck to Adam for pulling them in.

“Dude, why are you bringing us into this? I am a fan of ménage à trois, but not like this,” Oliver shoots back at him. Josh sighs, but he backs up what Adam just shared with the group.

“Noa, Adam is right. Your father was a ruthless monster.”

“I’m a monster as well.” Josh rubs his eyes because of my statement.

“No, asshole. You are a tough motherfucker, but you are fair. Your father committed personal hits without planning, but you don’t do that shit.”

“He is right,” Hana butts in. “Dario did nothing with honor. You are a pillar of reason in this community; why tarnish that with a personal vendetta against a woman?”

“You are all being unreasonable. She burned me, and she needs to pay for it.” Why are they not seeing the point of it all? That bitch needs to pay for what she did.

“Noa, please, calm down. We should talk–”

“ENOUGH!” I cut off my cousin and stand up. It’s like the control I had earlier is slipping away–and everybody is noticing it. The energy drained out of the room, leaving something brittle behind. I don’t need them; I need clarity.

I leave my team behind and start walking toward my gym. I don’t give a fuck about what they think of me. It’s their fucking job to listen to me. I am, after all, their boss, not the other way around.