Chapter 85: "Blood Ties and Betrayal"

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Felicia froze, her hand hovering over the closed book on the table. Her father’s voice, so familiar yet so foreign after all these years, sent a jolt of emotion through her—confusion, anger, longing.

It was a blend she wasn’t prepared to confront. Nelson moved silently to the window, his weapon drawn, his sharp gaze scanning the alley for potential threats.  

“Stay back,” he mouthed, his tone more a command than a suggestion.  

Felicia ignored him, her heart pounding in her chest. “It’s him,” she whispered.  

Nelson shot her a look. “We don’t know that. It could be a trap.”  

“It’s his voice, Nelson. I know it.”  

The knock came again, slower this time, like whoever was on the other side was losing patience—or hope. “Felicia, please. It’s Marcus. I don’t have much time.”  

That tone—pleading, raw—sent her mind spinning back to memories of her father’s fleeting moments of vulnerability. Despite her better judgment, she stood and took a step toward the door.  

Nelson blocked her path, his broad shoulders tense. “If it’s really him, he’ll understand why we need to confirm it’s safe.”  

Felicia nodded reluctantly, her gaze flicking toward the door. “Marcus Fanning,” she called out, her voice steady but cold. “If it’s really you, tell me something only you and I would know.”  

There was a pause, a silence so thick it felt like the room itself held its breath. Then, the answer came, quiet and deliberate: “When you were seven, you broke your arm trying to climb that oak tree in the park. I told you to blame it on the neighbor’s dog so your mother wouldn’t be furious. But you refused. You said, ‘Honesty is what makes us strong.’”  

Felicia’s breath hitched. The memory struck her like a lightning bolt—something so deeply buried, she hadn’t thought of it in years. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, unwilling to let emotion cloud her judgment.  

Nelson’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his gun. “Could’ve done his homework,” he muttered.  

“Nelson,” Felicia said softly, her voice laced with a mix of pleading and determination. “It’s him.”  

Nelson hesitated, his protective instincts warring with the trust he’d built with her. Finally, he nodded but didn’t lower his weapon. “Step back while I open the door.”  

Felicia moved to the far side of the room, her fingers gripping the back of a chair as Nelson unlocked the door and eased it open.  

On the other side stood a man who looked like he’d aged decades since she last saw him. Marcus Fanning’s once-proud frame was stooped, his face lined with exhaustion and sorrow. 

His clothes were simple, almost threadbare, and his eyes—so much like her own—carried the weight of a thousand untold stories.  

“Felicia,” he breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.  

She took a hesitant step forward, her chest tightening. “Dad…”  

Before she could say more, Nelson cut in sharply. “Hands where I can see them.”  

Marcus complied, lifting his hands slowly. “I’m not armed,” he said, his tone weary but calm.  

Nelson scanned him for weapons, his expression unyielding. Only when he was satisfied did he step aside, allowing Marcus to enter.  

Felicia’s emotions surged as she took in the sight of her father, so much older and frailer than the man she remembered. 

She wanted to run to him, to demand answers, to cry and scream all at once. But instead, she stood frozen, the gap between them feeling both physical and emotional.  

“What are you doing here?” she asked finally, her voice trembling.  

Marcus looked at her with a mixture of pride and regret. “I had to find you. To warn you.”  

“Warn me about what?”  

Marcus’s gaze shifted to the table, his eyes landing on the closed book. “That. They know you have it.”  

Felicia’s stomach dropped. “Who’s ‘they’?”  

“The ones who’ve been hunting me for years,” Marcus said, his voice heavy with despair. “The ones who’ll do anything to destroy what’s inside that book.”  

“We already know that,” Nelson interjected, his tone sharp. “Tell us something useful.”  

Marcus turned to him, his expression unreadable. “And you are?”  

“Someone keeping her alive,” Nelson replied without missing a beat.  

“Then you’d better listen,” Marcus said, his voice hardening. He looked back at Felicia. “You can’t trust anyone—not even the people who claim they’re on your side. That book… it’s not just a record. It’s a map to something bigger. Something people are willing to kill for.”  

Felicia’s heart pounded. “A map to what?”  

Marcus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Nelson before returning to her. “A vault,” he said finally. “A vault that holds enough blackmail and secrets to bring down every major criminal empire in this country—and beyond.”  

Nelson let out a low whistle. “No wonder they’re so desperate.”  

Felicia felt like the ground was shifting beneath her feet. The book had always been a burden, but now it felt like a ticking time bomb. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she demanded, her voice rising.  

“I was trying to protect you,” Marcus said, his voice breaking. “The less you knew, the safer you were.”  

“Safe?” Felicia snapped, her emotions boiling over. “You left me with a target on my back! You abandoned me to deal with this alone!”  

“I had no choice!” Marcus shot back, his voice rising to match hers. “If I’d stayed, they would’ve killed us both.”  

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of their shared pain hanging in the air.  

Nelson, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of suspicion and discomfort, finally spoke. “If this vault is real, we need to find it before they do. Do you know where it is?”  

Marcus nodded slowly. “I do. But getting there won’t be easy.”  

Felicia’s mind raced, her emotions warring with her sense of duty. She wanted to trust her father, to believe he had her best interests at heart. But years of betrayal and abandonment weren’t so easily forgotten.  

Before she could respond, the sharp sound of a car screeching to a halt outside shattered the tense quiet.  

Nelson was at the window in an instant, his expression darkening. “We’ve got company.”  

Felicia’s heart lurched as she grabbed the book and shoved it into her bag. “How many?”  

“Three cars. Armed,” Nelson replied grimly. He glanced at Marcus. “Did they follow you?”  

“I didn’t think so,” Marcus said, his face pale.  

Nelson muttered a curse under his breath. “Stay here. Both of you.”  

“Nelson, wait—” Felicia began, but he was already moving, his weapon drawn as he slipped out the back door.  

Her father turned to her, his expression stricken. “Felicia, I’m sorry. For everything.”  

“This isn’t the time,” she said, her voice cold as she grabbed another gun from the hidden compartment. “Right now, we survive. Then we talk.”  

Marcus nodded, his shoulders slumping.  

The sound of gunfire erupted outside, cutting through the night like a blade. Felicia’s heart pounded as she moved to the window, her stomach churning with dread. She couldn’t lose Nelson—not now, not after everything they’d been through.  

But as she peered through the curtain, what she saw made her blood run cold.  

Standing in the middle of the chaos, barking orders to the armed men, was a face she thought she’d never see again.  

Ryker.  

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