Abella Sterling (Female P.O.V)

October 14, 2074

After entering my apartment, I shut the door and sagged against it. All I wanted was to collapse in a boneless heap in my bed for a few hours and forget my troubles. Spending most of the day searching for my father had depleted my energy.

But the same couldn't be said for my brain. It seemed to have an infinite supply. I wouldn't have minded if the thoughts running a mile a minute through my head were a solution to fix the Luther problem, but they weren't. Each one was of Saint.

Guilt pricked at my conscience for him taking priority. When instead, Logan should be my focus. I needed to devise a plan to save his life, but I was helpless against my train of thought.

The memory of me blubbering against Saint's chest made me shudder. It was totally out of character and something I never thought I would do.

Since losing my mom, I needed to be strong. For my brother, my father, and myself. Which meant my feelings went disregarded. It was the only way to keep my family from falling apart.

For years and years, the pressure of being everyone's rock had weighed heavily on me, and it seemed today was my breaking point. I couldn't be sure whether or not it was a curse of blessing Saint had witnessed this moment. But I couldn't deny he helped relieve some of my burdens.

His comforting me was unexpected but surprisingly pleasant. I couldn't explain why I felt so comfortable with him even though we hadn't spoken in years. I just was. And that terrified me.

What made things even worse was that I knew there was no chance he reciprocated my feelings. Therefore letting Saint break down the walls safeguarding my heart would only result in unrequited love.

But his promise to keep my brother and me safe tempted me to throw caution to the wind. An...

No, no! Stay strong, Abella!

Saint's promise was just a part of his job. Logan and I were only an assignment. Nothing more. And once he completed it, he would move on to the next one.

A sharp pang began in my chest, but I ignored it. The pain would be nothing compared to if I let myself fall for Saint and he rejected me. I couldn't let that happen. It was better to keep things strictly professional. Expecting more would only hurt me in the end.

Someone sliding my purse off my shoulder brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up and met Cris's concerned gaze.

"Where's Logan?" I asked as she hung my bag on the coat rack beside the door.

"He's asleep." She whispered even though it was completely unnecessary.

My apartment walls weren't paper-thin, and my brother was a heavy sleeper. Nothing shy of a natural disaster would elicit a stir from him.

I started to inform her of this, but she spoke first.

"He passed right out after eating."

I nodded, intending to follow suit after sending Cris on her way. "Thank you for staying, Cris."

"No problem."

"I hope Josh won't be too mad I kept you."

"Of course not. I already called him and explained the situation. He even offered to help if you need anything."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." Smiling, I pushed off the door and headed toward my bedroom.

But before I could take one step, she gently grasped my arm. "Uh..."

My smile fell as her wide-blown eyes looked everywhere but at me. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Your uh..." She swallowed and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. "Dad is here."

Relief briefly coursed through me that it wasn't more bad news, but anger quickly boiled to the surface.

"What?! Where?!"

"I-I-In the kitchen."

I stormed into the kitchen, my sneaker-clad feet viciously pounding the hardwood flooring. The noise went ignored by my dad as he sat at the island counter and sipped from a white mug. Not once did he glance my way, not even when I stood before him on the other side of the counter.

I laid my palms flat on the cold hard surface and stared at him in utter disbelief at his audacity.

My chest heaved as if I had just run a marathon, and the longer he ignored my presence, the more its tempo increased.

Knowing I needed to calm myself or risk passing out, I took a deep breath. And another before saying, "I've been looking for you everywhere, and you're sitting in my kitchen."

Once I finished speaking, his eyes snapped up to meet mine over the rim of his mug. Those deep-set dark brown irises were oh so similar to mine, except his sported prominent dark shadows underneath them.

His eyes darkening was the only warning I received before he slammed the mug onto the counter.

"I didn't tell you to come looking for me!" He shouted as a bit of brown liquid sloshed over the rim, but the glass remained intact.

"You're right! You didn't." I whipped around, snatching the dish rag off the rack over the sink before turning back to face him. I started to wipe up the spill, only to stop. I had enough of cleaning up his mess. Even ones this small. Somehow I managed to gently set the rag down and resist the urge to toss it at his face.

"Forgive me for caring enough to look for you. Next time I won't bother."

"N-n-no!" He started to reach out for me but withdrew his hand at the last possible second. "I uh..."

While waiting for him to continue, I looked him over. I mean really took him in. Stress had aged him faster than time ever could. Plus, his poor food diet didn't help. One would never guess he just celebrated his fifty-fourth birthday a few months prior.

The wrinkles and his salt and pepper locks made him appear much older. Even his dulcet baritone voice I remembered so fondly from childhood sounded craggy.

A soft tapping sound infiltrated my thoughts.

I looked down to see his grease-caked fingernails repeatedly striking the countertop. It was a hazard that came along with his profession as a mechanic. No matter how hard he scrubbed, there always seemed to be a little grease left behind.

"I didn't mean that." He said. "You and Logan are all I have left. If you don't do it, no one will."

The bitter truth of his words hung in the air between us. Both of my parents had no siblings. And any friends my dad once had isolated themselves when he began gambling.

I set my hand on his, slightly squeezing.

"Dad, why did you stop going to your meetings? Huh?" I hated the pleading tone of my voice, but I needed to understand the reason for his sudden relapse.

"I was going to return." He finally picked up the rag and mopped up the spill avoiding my eyes. "I thought I could make one last bet to repay you some of the money I gambled away."

"I have never asked you to pay me back! All I wanted was for you to stop gambling! Now, look at what you did. You put Logan's and my life in danger for what..."

"Ten million dollars."

"Ten milli-" I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to repeat the number. The number he thought was worth risking our lives for. "You live in a crappy apartment with less than three hundred dollars in your bank account. Did you stop for even one second and think about why Luther would make such a high-risk bet with you?"

He said nothing, and I took his silence as an omission of the truth.

Tightly gripping the counter edge, I shut my eyes and deeply exhaled. "Of course not. You never do."

"I'm sorry."

My eyes snapped open at the apology, and I stared at him in bewilderment.

"You're sorry? I've heard those words countless times before. They don't mean anything coming from you!" The fury and frustration simmering deep within me bled into my voice and made my volume fluctuate.

Logan being asleep in the other room and him being my dad were the only things keeping me from completely losing control of my emotions. More so the former than the latter. Because I was slowly losing respect for the man in front of me with each word he spoke.

I sighed before saying, "Tell me how you're going to fix this."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out.

I rested my hip against the counter and folded my arms, patiently waiting for his answer. Even though I knew it would never come.

After a few seconds, he shut his mouth and cleared his throat. "Maybe you could p-"

"What?" I interjected. "I hope you don't expect me to clean up your mess."

"N-n-no, I don't. I will come up with a plan to make everything better. I-I-I just need some time."

"Okay," I said even though I didn't believe him. I wanted to, but he had let me down too many times. My faith in him was nonexistent.

He smiled, and I struggled to return it with one of my own. But he didn't seem to notice.

"Alright then. I'll let you know what I come up with in a few days." He rose from the stool and headed for the doorway. "I'll go get Logan, and we'll get out of your way."

"No!" I rushed around the counter and stood in front of him. "I think it's best that he stays with me."

Even with a serial killer after me, I still felt my brother was safer with me. That's how low my trust in my father had sunk.

"There's no need for that. I can look after my son just fine."

I snorted derisively. "Oh yeah. Well, you certainly have a funny way of doing that. You left him sitting at school. Not to mention you disappeared for days without telling anyone."

Deep down inside, he knew I was right, but he was nowhere near ready to admit it aloud. His pride wouldn't let him.

"I was trying to make some money!"

"By doing what?" I asked, already knowing he phoned in sick at the auto repair shop where he was employed. It was honestly a miracle he still had the job. But I doubted he would keep it for long if he continued missing work.

He scratched his chin and mumbled. "A few odd jobs for an acquaintance."

My eyebrows rose at the vague explanation. I waited for him to elaborate, but he never did.

"Did this acquaintance or whatever pay you enough to remove one of the targets off my back?"

"I made s..." he paused and tilted his head as my words sunk in. "Wait. What do you mean by one of?"

"If you had bothered to pick up your phone, you would know the answer to that question."

"I'm here now, so tell m-"

"Uh... Abella," Cris called, poking her head through the doorway.

"What?"

"You should come and see this."

"What is it?" I asked, following her into my living room.

She pointed towards the television where the local news was currently playing. No sound came from the speakers, but the subtitles flying across the screen were enough for me to guess the topic.

Underground Legends.

"I thought you said the cops are keeping the murders out of the news."

"They are...or rather they're trying."

"Well, it's out now."