Chapter 5 : The Pickup

I was still staring at the white rose when my phone buzzed in my hand. It was an unknown number. My thumb froze over the screen, because for one sick second I thought it was the stalker again, until I read the message.

Change of plans. I'm coming to you in thirty minutes. Be ready.

There was no name but I knew exactly who it was. Nobody else could make a text sound like an order.

"Two days," I whispered to no one, "he said two days."

I looked down at the rose, then at the little note tucked under its stem. Coincidence, maybe, or maybe not, and I didn't have time to figure out which. I shoved the note into my pocket and rushed back upstairs.

My bags were already zipped and waiting by the bed, but the real problem was still sitting in the kitchen, stirring his coffee like it was any other morning. I still hadn't told Uncle Hector a single word about the engagement, and now I had half an hour.

Twenty-eight minutes later, tires crunched outside the building. I stepped to the window side and my stomach dropped. Two black SUVs sat at the curb, doors already opening, and men in dark suits poured out and spread across the sidewalk like they were securing a war zone. Marco stood at the front, scanning the rooftops.

Down the street, a woman pulled her toddler back inside her shop and locked the door.

"Iris?" Hector's voice came from behind me. "What is all that?"

Before I could answer, three hard knocks landed on the apartment door. Uncle Hector moved fast. He crossed the room in seconds, and I saw his hand shake slightly as he turned the knob. The door swung open, and there stood Demetrius Moretti in a black coat, calm as a Sunday morning.

Hector's face changed instantly. The anger came first and in all honesty, I expected it. But underneath it was something else, something I had never seen on my uncle in twenty-four years. It looked a lot like fear.

He stepped in front of me without thinking, one arm spread across the doorway.

"You have no business coming in here," he barked.

"Good morning, Mr. Fernandez," Demetrius replied, his voice smooth and almost polite. "I'm only here for what belongs to me."

"Nothing here belongs to you."

The two men stared at each other, and the whole room seemed to hold its breath. The tension was palpable and neither of them blinked. It felt like watching two dogs decide who bites first, and I got the strangest feeling they had done this dance before. 

Demetrius broke the silence. "Iris is my fiancée. She's leaving with me this morning."

Hector let out a harsh laugh, and it wasn't a happy sound. "Your what?"

"You heard me."

"You people," Hector said, his voice shaking now, "you rotted this city, you took my brother, and now you want his daughter too? Over my dead body, Moretti. I'll fight you for her."

I felt heat climb up my neck. They were talking over me like I was a package sitting on the table and I really couldn't stand two grown men arguing about who had the right to carry me out the door.

"Excuse me," I said.

Neither of them looked at me.

"Excuse me!" I yelled. 

That got their attention. I stepped around Hector's arm, my heart pounding, and stood squarely between them.

"I made this decision myself, Uncle.” I said, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Nobody forced me. And you," I turned to Demetrius, "don't you ever speak for me again. Ever."

He looked shocked, amused even but I really couldn't tell at the moment. 

"Iris, please," Hector said softly. "You don't understand what you're walking into."

"Then tell me," I said. "Tell me what I'm missing."

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked at Demetrius, then back at me, and said nothing at all. That silence told me more than words could have.

"That's what I thought," I said quietly, and walked to the bedroom to get my bags.

When I came back down the stairs, dragging the last one behind me, Marco's men were already loading the others into the SUV. Hector stood at the bottom of the steps, watching every bag disappear into the trunk. His hands trembled at his sides, and his eyes looked desperate. It was like watching something he valued slip through his fingers. 

"Uncle," I whispered "what's wrong with you?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he moved and planted himself in the doorway, blocking the only way out.

"Reconsider," he said, barely audible. 

I stared at him intently and realised his hands were shaking, his red eyes, and for a moment I almost stayed. But staying wouldn't make me safer, and it wouldn't bring my father back, and deep down some small voice told me the answers I needed weren't behind that door.

They were outside it.

"I'm sorry," I said and I meant it. I gave him a tight hug, holding on for a moment and then I gently moved past him and walked out into the morning light.

Demetrius stood beside the open car door, one hand resting on the frame. He said nothing, just watched me step forward, and I slid into the backseat with my head held high. He climbed in after me, and Marco shut the door with a heavy thud that sealed me inside.

As the SUVs pulled away from the curb, I turned and looked through the rear window. Hector was still standing on the sidewalk, watching us disappear down the street.

I kept staring long after he was gone.

"You're quiet," Demetrius said.

I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, studying every twitch, every breath but I said nothing to him. When I finally looked at him, a faint smile was on his lips and it made my stomach tightened. 

"Tell me something, Iris," he said softly. "Why does your uncle hate my family so much?"