Dane

"Trust me, I do," Dane had muttered.

​​

His father regarded him for a moment, thoughtful. "I'll admit, this isn't what I expected. I thought you were coming here to ask to join me. To train further. To be a part of my…business."

Dane snorted. "Never. I told you that four years ago."

"I guess I didn't believe you until now," his father said in a dry tone that was far too lighthearted. Dane should have suspected then. He should have suspected a lot of things. But he was young and arrogant—like his father—and certain he could use his father's tools against him.

Then his father turned to Talia. "You're a part of this?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her brown hair fluttering around her face as she pleaded with him with her eyes. "Dad, he's going to do a really good job. You'll be proud."

His father rubbed his chin, then turned back to Dane. "I think you may have been hasty. How about you sleep on it. If you still want to do this tomorrow at this time, come back. And we'll discuss it."

Dane's heart had raced. His father was softening! "No, Dad," he pushed the advantage. "I won't change my mind, and you won't persuade me to come back."

"Twenty four hours," his father said darkly. "If you haven't changed your mind, then we'll talk." And before Dane could reply, he was up from the table, buttoning his jacket, kissing Talia's hand, and walking out, his assistant in tow.

Dane sat there, fingers tapping the tabletop, wondering whether he'd won, or not. But it didn't matter, he told himself. Even his father couldn't find a way around the deadman's switch. Dane suspected he wanted to have the conversation away from his staff so he wouldn't lose face.

Talia watched their father leave, a frown on her face. But Dane smiled and rubbed her shoulder. "Come on. It's going to work, don't worry!"

She nodded but didn't smile as she followed him out.

He was excited, energized all evening. It was hard not to brag to his roommates about the business he was going to build. But one worthwhile thing his father had taught him was not to celebrate success that hadn't yet happened. So he would wait, as his father had asked. And then he would tell the world.

Dane Daniels was no longer his father's son. He was his own man.

He'd gone to sleep with a smile on his face, and woken up to the horror of his lifetime.

He'd thought, in his earlier years, that his father had opened all the doors and windows of his shameful existence and shown Dane everything. But he'd been wrong.

That day, when Dane was twenty-two, was the day he learned the truth about his father's ruthlessness.

It started with an unanswered phone call. He was picking Talia up for breakfast. They were going to plan and strategize. But she didn't answer her phone.

Assuming she'd stayed up late, he drove to her apartment that she shared with a friend.

But when he got to the door, it was unlocked and cracked open.

Dane's heart pounded in his ears as he pressed the door open slowly. "Talia? Are you okay?"

The living room looked normal. A lamp was on in the corner that wasn't needed in the daylight, but nothing out of the ordinary. "Talia? Selena?" he called, hoping if Talia was gone, at least her roommate might be here. But there was no answer.

The apartment was small. He headed down the hallway, faster every step, until he made it to her closed door and knocked. "Talia?"

He didn't want to disturb her, but his hands were shaking and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He pushed the door open, knocking again, calling for her quietly in case she was still asleep. But the blackout curtains were pulled and he couldn't see anything.

"Talia?" To his right, her hand poked out of the blankets, visible in the low light from the door. He reached for her arm, to shake her. But as soon as his fingers touched her skin, his heart exploded.

Her skin was cold.

The rest of the morning was a blur. He'd turned on the light, unable to register the dark smears on the wall, to find the quilt of his sister's bed thrown over her, even her head. And when he pulled it back…blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

A scream that started in his toes tore out of his throat.

He called 911. The ambulance. The Police. But she was gone. In the few spots where her skin wasn't painted red, he could see the grey pallor of death.

He knew that color. Had seen it before. Thanks to his father.

The police had discovered her roommate had stayed elsewhere with her boyfriend the night before. She knew nothing.

Dane couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. He'd left her alone.

He'd screamed at the Police. He knew who had done this! They had to arrest him!

The Police had calmed him, eased him into a car and taken him to the station to be interviewed.

Four hours. Four hours he'd sat in an interview room with two Officers, telling them over and over again who his father was, what he did, how they could find him. The men took the information nodding, thoughtful. Had him sign a statement. Promised that they were going to do something about it.

They finally left him alone. He broke down, sobbing, pleading with his sister to forgive him. Vowing to ruin his father.

And then the Detective Inspector had arrived, quietly, his face sympathetic. He'd asked Dane to go through the story one more time. He'd shown him the official statement and made sure it was his signature on it.

"Yes, yes it's me!"

"And you would attest to this in Court?" the man asked solemnly.

"Yes! Don't you understand? He killed my sister! Why aren't you out there arresting him?"

The man nodded, then pulled out his phone, pressed a button, and waited a moment, one finger up to ask Dane to wait. "Yes, yes it's done," he said, then hung up.

He stared at Dane for a moment and Dane stared back. "What? What's done? Are you going after him?"

"Not quite yet," the man said, the grey wings of his hair glinting in the overhead lights. "You see, you and I have a problem, Dane."

.

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