“You!” Andreas growled, casually picking his way towards Eliantos. “Do you see anything down there?” 
 
Eliantos craned his neck, squinting his eyes to peer down the foreboding waterfall. “No Signore.” His lips twitched in uncertainty. His heart thumping with every step Andreas took closer to him. He turned around, his face paling as he came into contact with Andreas cold gun to his forehead.
 
“You had one job. Nothing in, nothing out of the cave.” Andreas confronted icily. “How did this happen?” 
 
"He... said he was...your brother.” Eliantos' arms were raised. "Please signore, give me another chance... I will find him. Take his rotting corpse to Don Marcello myself.” His voice cracked, staring at the gun with wide eyes. He couldn't believe he failed on his first day, and now he was about to pay for it.
 
Andreas knuckles whitened, his face cold. “The thing is, I have no brother. And Don Marcello doesn't give second chances.”
 
A loud bang echoed through the damp air. Eliantos' limp body fell over the waterfall. A huge gaping hole dominating his left eye. 
 
“The rest of you scout this whole area, and find him. I'll go see the boss.” Andreas' drooping shoulders slumped as he retreated to his motorcycle. His jaws clenched as he anticipated the danger that awaited him; he was probably a dead man walking. 
 
Don Marcello was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, rocking his head to the loud classical music that was playing on the disk. He lifted his hand up to silence Andreas, who had just crawled in. Andreas' hands were tightly clasped together behind him as he waited anxiously for the music to come to its dreaded end. He hated Italian operas, but tonight he felt differently about them; there was a certain nostalgic sadness to the strong vocals of the artist, as if she saw a certain doom in the world the other people couldn't see. His gaze drifted to the drawn heavy curtains; they were too still for his comfort, and they made the don's office darker than usual. 
 
“Andreas.” Don Marcello's hoarse voice filled the room, replacing the fading music. “Why so sad?” He swung his chair around, facing Andreas. 
 
“Do…Don.” Andreas shifted uneasily, clutching at the hem of his suit.
 
“It is unlike you to stammer.” Don Marcello crumpled a piece of paper and dumped it into the trash can. “Get on with it then.” 
 
“Liam…escaped. I took care of the kid that made it happen. We are looking for him, Don.” Andreas took a step closer, his hollow eyes searching the Don's calm, cold gaze. “I swear to find him, Don.” 
 
There was a long pause. Filled with Don Marcello's monotonous move of damping crumpled waste papers into the bin. “I see.” He hissed, standing up. “My son-in-law is missing. I do not know whether to kill you or thank you.” He was standing so close to Andreas that he cringed his nose at the pungent sweaty smell that reeked off Andreas. 
 
“Huh..how so, Don?” Andreas’ brows furrowed in confusion.
 
“You see, I didn't know what to do with him myself. I hated the bastard and wanted him dead, but killing him would have ruined the relationship with my daughter, for once she needed me after such a long time, it felt good.” Don Marcello drew a sharp breath. “Losing him will definitely ruin our relationship; it was better when he was imprisoned. Close to my daughter, but not free to hurt her.” 
 
“Oh, I see. I'm sorry, Don.” Andreas' lips barely parted.
 
“So you see my conundrum. You've done me a huge favor, but at the cost of the relationship between me and Liz.” Don Marcello's hand hovered over his waistband contemplatively. “You have to fix this. You have to find him and kill him.” 
 
“Y…yes Don.” Andreas' head was bent low. 
 
“You do know I don't condone recklessness.” He pulled out a gun, aiming it at Andreas. 
 
"Yes, I do.” Andreas clenched his jaws. Anticipating the gunshot. Don Marcello was a ruthless man, alright, but what he hated the most was a coward who couldn't take the sight of a gun.
 
“Agreed.” The don nodded, dropping the aim of the gun to Andreas' kneecap.

He shot. “Now get that fixed and get to work. I have to call my daughter and inform her of the terrible news.” 
 
Andreas gasped in pain, sinking on one knee. “Y…e…s D…o…n,” he grunted, clenching his teeth at the blinding pain. His face paled watching as he watched blood spurt from his blasted kneecap. 
 
Don Marcello plopped himself back on his chair, lifting the telephone to his ear as he dialed. “Figlia Mia…Do you mind coming down to the office? There is something you need to know. No, your husband is fine. Yeah, just come.” 
 
He placed the receiver down, sighing heavily. “Those godforsaken incompetent bastards!” He cursed icily, pacing back and forth in the quiet office as he waited for his daughter to arrive. It would only take an hour.
 
One short hour of flight.
 
“Papa!” Elizabeth pushed the office door abruptly. “Take me to him; I need to talk to Liam.” Her thin, pale face was fixed on her father. It had been 3 days since she last saw her husband, if she counted the night.
 
“Lizzie, you look awful. Sit down. Here is some water.” Don Marcello gently dragged her daughter to the plushy dark green couch overlooking the city night lights. He grabbed a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off. 
 
“I haven't exactly been sleeping. What did you do to him? Where is he, I want to see him.” Elizabeth massaged her temple; the cold water stung her teeth. She ruffled her disheveled hair, stray strands dipping into her eyes. “I thought Liam was going to leave me... but now he won't... I have good news for him, I can handle him from here papa.” 
 
“Yeah, about that.” Don Marcello took the empty seat next to Elizabeth. He gently took his daughter's hands into his, looking into her eyes. “I'm afraid he's gone... You can't talk to him.” 
 
“What?..what do you mean, dad, did you let him go?” Elizabeth pulled her hands from her father's. She shut her eyes slowly, the constant nausea acting up again. She couldn't keep anything down. 
 
“He's…he's dead, dear.” Don Marcello looked down at his fingers in deep thought. 
 
“No. You didn't.” Elizabeth stood up, “You bastard, you didn't... I loved him.” She leaned on the wall for support, sliding down to the floor. “Not him.” She took sharp, deep breaths, images of Liam flashing in her mind. He was the only man who loved her for who she really was; he never cared about her position. 
 
“Lizzie. If you loved the man, you wouldn't have slept with his friend.” Don Marcello bluntly shrugged. “But hey, I don't judge. He overreacted because he doesn't understand how our family works—a simple consigliere, that's all he was, but he acted like he owned you.” 
 
“You don't get it.” Elizabeth wiped the fast falling tears off her face. “That might be how things work for you and Mama, but it wasn't the case for us! Just in case you were wondering, this is why I left the family.” Elizabeth's pale face was a shade deeper than red.
 
Her hands slowly lifted to her belly; it was just a tiny thing now. There was no bump yet. Sooner it would grow. She thought it was a way to bring back Liam. He loved kids and always went on and on about how Elizabeth would make a great mom. 
 
But if Liam was dead, then it was just a useless burden that needed to be gotten rid of. She thought she was better than her family, when really she was just as bad as they were. Perhaps much worse, a hypocrite hiding behind sophistication and civilization. 
 
“Papa. I want to see his body.” She had to confirm he was really dead. "I need to see him."