Page 90 of Her Mercenary

Roman, this is officially my fourteenth attempt at reaching you. I have recently been diagnosed with cancer and am shoring up unfinished business, so to speak. One of many is sending you your mother’s things. I truly believe she would want you to have them. She loved you so much, you know.

After my attempts to reach you failed, I decided to send them directly to the company you work for. Forgive me for sending this there, but I didn’t know where else to send it. Your mother loved you, Roman. Please remember that.

– Freya

I scrubbed my hand over my mouth, contemplating the stained glass window above me, the rendition of the Virgin Mary in the middle.

“There’s a letter in the jewelry box,” Ryder said. “In an envelope with your name on it.”

“Read it.” I listened to the rustle of paper as Ryder lifted the flap. My stomach rolled as I somehow knew it was from my mother. “Wait—no. Take a picture of it and email it to me. Don’t read it.”

“Dude, are you fucking serious? Can’t you see your secrets are getting you in trouble?”

“I don’t have time for this shit right now, Ryder. Send me a goddamn picture of the letter, to my Gmail.”

“Your unsecured email?”

“I don’t have my fucking phone, man!” I bellowed in the Church of Christ.

There was another pause while Ryder held his tongue. “Will send it over. What are you going to do now?”

“See if my cover is still intact.” Because I had no other options.

“Don’t get yourself killed. See you soon, bro.”

Click.

My hand trembled as I clicked into the browser, into Google, and logged into my email. Ryder’s email was already there, and it had a single attachment.

I clicked it open, took a deep breath, and began to read.

42

Roman, my dear son,

I’m writing this letter, unsure if you will ever see it.

Maybe I’m writing it for myself, in a selfish confession, perhaps, as I know my time is coming. I can feel it in my bones, Roman.

I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. Sometimes, in life, we make decisions that are unclear to those around us. I want you to know that everything I did, every decision I made, was out of my love for you. And to keep you safe.

I hope you will understand that one day.

I also hope you will understand this:

I have made many mistakes in my life, but you are not one of them. You taught me that our past does not define us, and that good things can come out of evil.

I’ll never forget the first time you asked me who your father was. I’ll also never forget the guilt I felt for lying to you that day. The truth is that I do know who your father is.

When I was a young girl, I fell in love with an older man. I was much too young, much too stupid. My mother and father were drug addicts and were not present in my life. I was an angry girl. This man took me under his wing, took care of me, and I became pregnant with you at age fifteen.

After you were born, I fell in love with you. You are all that mattered to me anymore. In that one second, when you opened your eyes and looked at me, I knew I would do anything for you.

I walked away from the volatile relationship between your father and me in an attempt to raise you in a world of peace. But it was too late. Your father had become someone of power, and I know now, he never let me far from his sight. His men are the ones who took you from me that day; his men are the ones who controlled my life every day thereafter.

His men are the soldiers of the Cussane Network.

Your father, Roman, is a man named Oisin Cussane.