Liam and I walked into the casino where we knew Seth Mancini was present, a couple of SWAT agents accompanying us.

We finally had the needed information to charge him, and we made sure that this time, he wouldn't be able to elude our grasp.

We flashed our badges in the face of whoever stood in our way and continued to walk without being deterred until we reached Mancini's office. The SWAT members were the first to burst into the room. We followed behind them, proud smiles decorating our faces.

He instantly rose from his seat, glaring at us with a bitter expression. He narrowed his eyes when they landed on me and Liam, showing that he was indeed scorning our presence—or maybe that we were still alive.

"How dare you dash into my office like that? And what the hell do you want this time?"

Smirking, I brought out a piece of paper and showed it to him. "The last time we were here, you told us to bring a warrant the next time we visit you. Guess what? We took your advice."

His eyes widened a fraction, and his body tensed when Liam approached him.

"Seth Mancini, you're under arrest for solicitation of murder for hire," Liam said as he slapped his handcuffs on Mancini with his hands tied behind his back. Then he started reading him the Miranda rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

He didn't resist the arrest or even uttered a word. Instead, his face was an impeccable mask.

However, he gave me—out of everyone in the room—a look I couldn't understand just before the SWAT members led him away...

***

We were now back at the bureau. Mancini was placed in a holding cell while we were gathering all the documents and information that could be used against him in the interrogation.

Arresting such a big shot like him was as magnitude as it could get, and we had to get as much information as we could out of him.

We were interrupted when an agent walked in, clearing his throat to get our attention. He had an uneasy look on his face.

"What's wrong? Did anything happen with Mancini?" Liam was the first to speak up.

"Well, yea—"

The agent tried to say, but Liam quickly interrupted him.

"What? Did he escape?" Liam queried in an urgent tone.

The agent shook his head quickly. "No, he's well-guarded and doesn't have any chance to even think about it."

I let out a breath of relief. Losing him after everything that happened would be a catastrophe.

"Then what?" Liam snapped, looking irritated.

"Um... he wants to speak with Agent Ryan. Alone," he answered, giving me a weird look, and he emphasized the word alone.

I raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. "Me?"

"Yes, he said that he would cooperate and tell us everything we need to know. But only if we let him speak to you first before his interrogation," he replied, shrugging a little.

To be honest, I was surprised and even a little suspicious. I had no idea why on earth Mancini wanted to speak with me specifically, or what I was about to hear.

"Did he lawyer up?" I asked the agent.

He shook his head in return.

"Fine, I will speak to him," I decided, rising from my seat. If this guaranteed getting him to talk, then it was definitely worth a shot.

"Alex, this man wanted us dead just a few hours ago. You can't go in there by yourself," Liam argued, trying to talk me out of it. "And don't you find it a little odd that a man like him didn't ask for a lawyer? He's definitely got something in mind."

"He has no power in here. And if he ever decides to do anything stupid, I will make sure he regrets it. But I need to know what he has to say to me," I said with firm persistence, giving Liam a look that meant I had already made up my mind.

Liam sighed, perhaps surrendering to the fact that he wouldn't change my mind.

"Just be careful, and no matter what, don't let him get under your skin."

I nodded quickly before I walked out of the room and started making my way toward Mancini's cell.

A wicked smile started playing around the edges of Mancini's mouth When I reached his cell.

Ignoring him, I schooled my face into a calm, confident mask. There was no chance I was going to give him any chance to hold anything against me or provoke me in any way.

I gave a small nod to the guards standing in front of his cell. One of them opened the door for me and then locked it up again after I was inside.

Crossing my arms, I eyed Mancini with a stern look while keeping a little distance between us.

He smiled before starting to speak. "Maybe it's best if we could have a little privacy here."

"I'm not sure if it occurred to you or not, but you don't get to make any demands in here," I said in a dry tone, still maintaining a solid look on my face.

"You really want to listen to what I have to say." He met my eyes evenly, the smile all gone from his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him, then I gave another nod to the guards outside the cell. They left their place in front of the cell. My inner voice of reason scolded me for agreeing to be all by myself in a locked cell with the man who wanted me dead only a few hours ago. I tried my best to ignore it.

I sat on the bench in front of him, making sure to maintain enough distance between us. "Are you comfortable enough to speak now?" I studied him carefully, looking out for any reaction.

He just smiled and looked down at the tattoo on his hand—the tattoo that was identical to the one that kept haunting me for years.

"This one is called Vegvísir. It's a symbol of protection and guidance. In the old Norse, people used to carry this runic compass with them all the time, or even carve it on their bodies. They believed it protected people from getting lost by helping them choose the right path in life and guiding them through hard times."

"I'm not here to talk about tattoos," I said between gritted teeth, feeling that I was running out of patience.

"Forgive me, but I thought you would be interested in that one in particular," he said, looking at me with narrowed eyes and a ghost of a malicious smile on his face.

My eyes widened a fraction when I realized the meaning behind his words, feeling my facade slipping. I tried to hide my change of expression quickly so I wouldn't give him any chance to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, I just couldn't do the same with my trembling hands.

It was him... I was sitting right in front of the man who ripped me off my family.

My whole body stiffened as if the temperature in the cell had dropped 10 degrees all of a sudden. My heart pounded in my chest as images from that night flashed through my brain.

My mother's blood, scattered everywhere. The sound of the bullet that took my father's life. And then... the image of the man who pulled the trigger—the same man who was currently sitting right in front of me.

My blood was boiling as hot as lava in my veins. I clenched my fist so hard that my knuckles turned white. I was fighting the impulse to do something I knew I would regret later.

Closing my eyes, I reminded myself that the bastard sitting in front of me wasn't worth wasting my life. He was already going to get what he deserved.

Bitter, pregnant silence filled the atmosphere around us for a few minutes, but they seemed like a lifetime to me.

"Why?" I uttered, finally breaking the silence with the only word I was able to push out of my mouth.

"At the time, I was just following orders I couldn't say no to," he said with a shrug.

There was no sign of remorse in his callous eyes. He looked as if he had done nothing wrong.

Something deep down in my heart knew that it was him all along, but watching him admit it was a whole different scenario.

I always wondered what I would do if I ever met him—the man that haunted my worst nightmares. I wondered if I would end his life with a shot to the head, just like he did to my father. Or if I would rip his heart out of his chest with my bare hands the same way he did to me all that time ago.

But here I was, sitting in front of him, feeling paralyzed, unable to do anything.

"I want to help you," he abruptly spoke up with seriousness in his tone.

My eyes widened a little, and I felt like laughing despite myself. The man who murdered my parents was offering to help me.

"Oh really? Did you just grow a heart all of a sudden?" I scoffed, letting out a humorless laugh. "Or do you think I'm dumb or desperate enough to accept help from a cold-blooded murderer like you?" I rose from where I was seated, unable to hold my anger in anymore.

"Look, Alex, I—"

He was about to say something, but I immediately stopped him mid-sentence. "No, you don't get to say my name with your filthy mouth," I hissed at him, feeling sickened by his mere presence.

The oxygen in the cell was getting scarcer as more time passed. I wanted to finish whatever this was as fast as I could, as I was having an inner fight with myself, trying to keep my temper in check.

"I just need you to listen to what I'm about to say. You won't regret it," he insisted.

I kept looking at him in disgust and hatred, fighting the urge to do something impulsive.

Taking a deep breath, I sat back on the bench and crossed my arms, waiting to hear what he had to say. "It better be worth it."

He let out a long sigh before he spoke. "In the world where I'm involved in head to toe, there's no place for failure, and as you see, I screwed up." He smiled bitterly and gestured to the cell we were currently in. "If you haven't already noticed, I became a burned card. I'm living on borrowed time, and my clock began its final countdown the second you caught me."

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, but I wanted him to continue, so I gave him the go-on look.

"Your father was an honorable man, no doubt about it, but he never knew when to quit. He refused to give up on that case even after he was dismissed from it. He continued to work on it secretly for years, and he uncovered a lot of truths and secrets that were never supposed to see the light of day."

Hearing him mention my father made me even angrier, but I stayed silent as I wanted to see the end of what he was telling me.

He broke eye contact with me and looked away, as his mind was probably taking him on a trip down memory lane.

"He gathered lots of files and information that could incriminate dozens of noted names in this country, and all of them wanted your father dead."

I felt many pieces of the puzzle being connected in my head. Everything was indeed connected to that damn case, and it actually made sense.

But where were those files? I found nothing related to the case in my father's office except for the file that contained a few photos and some unimportant details.

"We looked everywhere for those files, but we have never found them. They're still out there somewhere, and you need to find them," he said, giving me a serious look. "You might have won one battle by arresting me, but you still have a long war ahead of you."

"Well, you could be saying the truth, and you could also be trying to get me distracted, or even drive me into an ambush. Give me one good reason why I should ever trust you," I said sternly, locking my eyes with his cold, dark ones.

"You shouldn't." He shrugged. "And actually, you shouldn't trust anybody. There are a lot of dirty people involved, even inside the walls of the mighty FBI. Someone close to your father gave him away."

Thinking about it now, he was right. If what he said was true, it would mean that my father worked on the case secretly for years. Then someone close to him must have discovered what he was doing and sold him out.

But who?

"I still have more questions," I spoke up, and he nodded. "I believe the Chinese symbol is your act of power and control. Why didn't you leave it there when you did what you did?" When you murdered my parents. But I couldn't bring myself to say it.

His lips tilted up in a small smile. "Come on, now. That would have linked a lot of puzzle pieces together, and we definitely didn't want that to happen."

A pile rose in my throat. I was about to say something else to him but was cut off by two agents who opened the cell's metal door.

"Agent Ryan, we have to take him for interrogation now," one of them said.

I nodded at them, then I returned to give Mancini a last look. Lots of thoughts and questions were reeling through my mind.

An agent approached Mancini, cuffing him with his hands behind his back.

"As I previously mentioned, I am a dead man walking. They will get rid of me as soon as they can. But I don't care, because I have already played my last wild card. You," he told me as the agents escorted him away.

"Good luck, kid. You will need it."

I heard him shouting before he disappeared from my view.

I stood there inside of the empty cell, motionless, trying to cope with everything I just learned. And I wondered who I could trust, and who could be a potential enemy...