Page 1 of Lane

PROLOGUE

LANE

A Year Ago

“Mom?” I whispered and closed the door behind me. My feet were nearly soundless as I padded barefoot over the carpet.

She deteriorated so fast. Her once pink cheeks, flushed with happiness when she looked at me, were now dull and void of color.

A frail arm lifted mere inches before she was too tired to do more. “Lane,” she breathed. Even that was a lot for her.

This was the end. I knew it was coming. I kept hoping it wouldn’t happen, wishing she’d get better, but that wasn’t our reality.

My mom was my tether in this awful world we lived in. Not the world others inhabited. This was the one my father created. We never knew what each day would bring. I tried to make myself invisible so he didn’t come near me. I spent most of my time alone in my room or with my mom. She was the only one who mattered to me.

I longed for someone to find us and kill my father and brother, to murder them before my eyes, so I knew they couldn’t hurt us anymore. If I could have, I would have done it myself.Stabbed them, shot them, it didn’t matter, but I had my mom to think about.

My father hadn’t been in to see her in at least a month. He received a morning update from the nurse he had on staff to care for her. Just one because that was all he could afford, thanks to wasting his money. Fucking monster. He couldn’t even give a shit about his dying wife, the mother of his children.

I walked to the bed, sitting in the chair by her side. I’d spent hours there, reading to her. We were isolated, hiding until the time was right to return to the U.S., or so my father said.

“The money,” she whispered.

Carefully taking her hand in mine, I said, “We already talked about this.” Sometimes, she repeated things. For example, the money she’d put into an account for me.

She had lied to my father. She’d told him she didn’t know where the money went. He wasn’t the best at keeping track of his finances when he used to spend it as fast as he made it. She’d been stashing small amounts away for me in a secret account for years.

“You can’t tell him.”

“I won’t, Mom.”

“Get away from him. Run.”

“I will, but not yet.” I couldn’t leave when we were still out of the country in hiding. There was no way I’d leave her either.

“Find love.”

Tears welled in my eyes. Her life had been strapped to his, tied with bonds she couldn’t break, nor would she. My father would never let his sons go, and she wouldn’t leave us. She was as caught in this nightmare as I was. Hers was worse though. She had to live her final days in isolation.

“I had to protect you.” Her eyes slid closed. She fell asleep then, her hand going lax in mine.

I didn’t know when cancer would take her from me and she’d draw her last breath.

Releasing her hand, I leaned back in the chair and watched her for a moment before my eyes drifted to the window, not really seeing what was beyond it.

This was a family I never felt like I belonged with, at least no one but her. I wasn’t like my brothers. I didn’t want to be the man my father was, vicious, not caring about anyone but himself. By not falling in line, I was labeled weak and insignificant. There was no love lost between my brothers and me. I didn’t shed a single tear when one of them was killed. I just wished they would have taken out my other brother and father while they were at it.

My father didn’t tell me about his dealings. I was kept out of the business on purpose. They didn’t see me as a threat, which was their mistake. One day, I was going to get the fuck away from them. With me would go the money my mom put aside and the knowledge of where they were hiding.

They didn’t like how my mom favored me. I never saw it that way. She loved me and showed it. My brothers, well, she loved them in her own way, but they weren’t receptive to anything she said or did for them. After a while, she focused on me. When she was diagnosed with cancer, I was the one with her.

My father had been sick lately, not his usual self. Still cruel as hell, which drove me away from him. The asshole could shrivel up and rot for all I cared.

Religion wasn’t part of my life, but I sent up prayers to whoever was there that my father died a painful death. I wanted him punished for all he did to my mom. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be helpless and have his world crumbling around him. Not in a monetary way; he’d been experiencing that since we fled from the U.S.

When I was younger, I might have seen him as intelligent. Then I realized he was too damn cocky. He had his son get in bed with a rival mafia boss’s wife. How did he really think that would end? My brother was a fucking jackass. Jordan Altair Sr. found out what was happening and had one of his men planted in my father’s organization. When word got to Jordan that his wife and my brother were planning to kill him and his young son, Jordan’s man took out my brother. Then Jordan put a bullet in his wife’s head in front of their son. I couldn’t blame him for killing her, not after his wife and my brother plotted their deaths.

I didn’t want my mom to be a part of this life. Now, we waited for our chance to go back to the U.S., while my mom barely hung on to life. My father was already putting the pieces together so we could enter undetected.

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