72 - Dad

"One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. "

― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

. . .

They had separate rooms.

I didn't know that. I thought we were going to sleep together.

I was curled up in my bed, listening to the soft patter of rain outside.

I couldn't sleep without at least one of them holding me. They had become a necessity. Though I didn't know them and I wasn't going to kid myself into thinking that I did, I felt for them. And what I felt was too intense to be just 'liking' them.

I loved them.

The realization stole my sleep.

And then, in the middle of the night, there was a heavy knock on my door. I froze, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

"Come out." A very familiar voice. "Come out, princess."

Princess.

I couldn't breathe. Princess.

The knob turned. I was frozen. I had locked it but it was he who had taught me to pick locks. Of course, he could come inside.

I felt a shadow fall over me. I was under the covers. I felt the weight of his hand on my face.

"Don't you want to hear a story, Liv?" I was petrified.

"Come on, sit up." He slowly took the covers off me.

My eyes were clenched closed. How did he get out of prison? How was he here?

"Open your eyes. I have a gift for you, Princess."

I let out a breath, opening my eyes. I looked up at him. His from was blackened by the light coming through the door. But it was him.

"Dad?" I whispered.

"Sit up." His voice was so gentle like it used to be when he taught me everything I know about art - the passion we both shared. "Come on princess, don't you want to know what I have for you?"

I sat up. "W-what are you doing here?"

A small chuckle and then he moved, switching on the lamp on the nightstand.

I gasped. He was covered in tattoos from head to toe. His hair was long gone. Tall and broad, he was my dad but covered in tattoos and scars which could not be hidden by the tattoos, he wasn't my dad. His eyes were the same as before but they held nothing as they looked at me. There were so many scars on his face. So many scars. They dipped down from his neck, into the t-shirt he was wearing as did his tattoos. I spotted the Vergina sun tattooed on the side of his temple. He was in Bratva.

"Dad..." I whispered. "D-Dad..." He no longer looked like my dad.

"I bought you something." He smiled. He dig his hand into the pocket of his trousers and took something out. With scarred fingers, he unrolled the leather.

"It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do."

― Jane Austen.

It looked to have been cut out of the jacket...the jacket I had made.

"Your calligraphy has improved," he spoke softly, putting the piece of leather on my lap.

"G-Georgia..."

He chuckled. "Yes, Princess, Georgia." He looked at me. "She's safe...for now." His eyes skimmed over my face. "I'll see you soon, Princess." He grabbed the back of my neck and pressed his lips on my temple and I felt nothing but terror. I was shaking. I was shaking so badly.

He let go of me and walked out of the room, shutting it behind him. I looked down at the piece of leather on my lap.

"It isn't what we say or think that defines us, but what we do."

― Jane Austen.

He had Georgia.

. . .

I was shaking in Ashton's arms. I couldn't get dad out of my head. I couldn't think of what he was doing with her. Georgia had loved the jacket, she wouldn't have just lost it.

"He looked terrifying," I whispered. "He had the bratva tattoo on his temple. He's supposed to be in prison!"

I looked up at him, expecting there to be surprise on his face but there was nothing. I looked at Zavier and Xerxes, their expressions were the same as Ashton's.

"You knew," I whispered as I ripped myself out of Ashton's arm. I got off the bed, facing them. "You knew!"

"Olivia-" Xerxes began.

I shook my head. "You knew! Yes or no?" They exchanged glances.

"We did," Ashton said, running a hand through his already messy hair. "We knew he had escaped and we knew he joined Bratva. The day he escaped was the day everything started."

"And you didn't think me, his daughter, should know this?" I wiped the tears off my face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't want you to worry," Zavier muttered, looking away.

"You thought I'd never find out?" I asked. The tears refused to stop but I kept wiping them away. "H-He-" I sniffled. "I trusted you three," I whispered. "W-with my everything."

They stayed silent for what was there to say? They had kept this from me. They were no one to keep this from me.

"You had no right," I whispered. "No right to keep this from me. Mom needs to know." I reached to the nightstand to gab my phone but Xerxes picked it up, shaking his head.

"Him escaping cannot become public, it will force him into hiding." "He hates mom!" I hissed. "He will try to hurt her."

"You are not calling her," he said firmly. He threw the phone on the ground and slammed his foot on it, cracking the device. "For your own fucking safety."

I stayed quiet.

"We need to leave now," Zavier said. "We sent Edrick after him. He'll find him and your mom won't get hurt."

I stayed quiet.

"Go change," Ashton said gently, trying to take my hand into his but I ripped it away. I walked into the washroom with my bag. I changed my clothes, feeling myself go halfway crazy. They were not letting me call her. What if he hurt her?

Why didn't they tell me?

I wiped the tears off my face.

I trusted them and they kept a secret this big from me. He had Georgia. He could hurt mom.

"I will ruin your life," he had told me when I visited him in prison, that was the last time I had went there. I had told him about mom remarrying and he lost his mind. "As you ruined mine."

He was finally keeping his promise.

. . .