Page 49 of Sing For Us

“My friends?” A simple word with so much meaning got my attention: friends. Had she been stalking my friends?

“Yes, she noticed that your friends were really important to you and that you only let loose around them. They were the key to get to you. No matter which event she had to crash.”

Then it clicks—Elma and Armin’s wedding.

“Yes, that one.” Sneaky bastard, he made me think. I stand up from my chair and walk to my wall full of medical equipment. Surgical too. I open the door and am met with a variety of knives.

I hear Emin talking behind me. “Lana killed the couple that had a wedding on the day of your friends’ wedding. She got a job at that hotel, and she made you look at her.”

No, she didn’t. Lana lit up the room, and from the moment I saw her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But I don’t tell her friend that; I let him keep talking.

“She knew everything. The tracker you put in her, that you were following her, and that you put cameras in her apartment. She talked loudly so you would notice.”

“Why?” One-word questions and answers have to do for now, as I don’t feel the energy for anything else. And the rage as a result of her fucking me over is boiling inside me again.

“Because she wanted to lure you out. She wanted to be sure that you were you. That’s why she, and some of us, set your dealerships on fire.” I grab a surgical knife and face him.

“What did she do?” I ask him as I brace myself for impact, and Emin’s smug smile isn’t doing him any favors.

“We burned everything down. And every time you thought that you were getting close to her, you were wrong. She was getting close to you.”

“And the hens?” This is the last piece of information I need in my hands. After that, we’ll play.

“I never had any chickens, and the hens we were talking about were Marco’s victims. We had to talk in code; otherwise, you would have figured her out.”

Lana is the definition of cunning and waiting. She waited for years to take me out, and that kind of focus can’t be taught; you are born with it. That woman was made for this world, and if she survives my wrath, everyone should look out for her.

Not that I plan on leaving her alive.

A small voice in the back of my mind is telling me that I should let her live since she was wrong about me killing her father, but I ignore it. She will face the consequences of her actions.

Her face flashes by, and my mind is playing tricks on me. Her laughter suddenly echoes inside me, and I can feel my heart pumping faster.

I’m spinning the surgical knife in my hand and keeping my eyes locked on the ground—I am nervous.

Fuck.

“You still love her.” That wasn’t a question.

I look at Emin and keep my face blank and my tone flat. “No.”

“Yes, you fucking do. And she loves you.” My lips are quivering, and my palms are sweating . Lana can’t possibly love me. Nobody can love me. I am a monster.

“You are religious, right?” I ask Emin as I step closer to him until I am standing before him.

He swallows air. “Yes.”

“One more lie and you’ll meet your Savior in about a minute.” I am done playing this game with him as Noa; it’s time for me to be M, the assassin everyone is afraid of—the role Dario bestowed upon me.

You wanted a monster, dad? You’ll get the Devil instead.

I take the knife and plunge it right in his upper thigh. He doesn’t scream, but he does wince. Because the surgical knife isn’t as potent as a cleaver, it doesn’t hurt that much.

“Please, don’t. I don’t want to see my friend get hurt because she was misinformed!” His plea for survival is brushed aside. While I admire his love for Lana, it’s none of my concern right now. She hurt Hana, so she needs to pay.

I don’t answer Emin and gather a bunch of goodies from my closets. They are all displayed on the table behind me, and his reaction is immediate. Instant, heavy sweating makes his skin look clammy and slick, while his breathing is turning hollow and short. And he looks away.