Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I didn’t know what to say.
I mean, my brother had come home because he was too highly ranked to be a field soldier.
He didn’t like the work anymore.
Was she really saying this?
“I don’t want you to look anymore.” She turned to fully face me. “If you keep doing it, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
I couldn’t stop the betrayal from showing on my face. “That’s really what you want?”
My mom twisted away, giving me her shoulder. “I’ve wanted it for a long time. You were just too stupid to see it.”
He’s a ten, but he’s literally just words on paper.
—Athena’s secret thoughts
ATHENA
I was alone in this world.
Well, except for my best friend, Maven.
Though Maven was now married with a child on the way.
Truthfully, no one would notice if I died tonight.
Maybe I should have told someone what I was doing, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
If I’d told someone—Maven since she would be the only one who cared—she would’ve told me not to go. But honestly, I had a lead thanks to Maven’s new family—the Semyonovs.
Shasha, the oldest. Then came Milena, Nastya, and finally, Dima.
Maven had two biological brothers, two biological sisters, and a sister, Dorsey, who wasn’t actually blood, from her after-kidnapping life.
Over the last six months, I’d been working with them all—Dorsey included.
After Maven had found her biological family, they’d been very appreciative of the program I wrote.
For the last few months, I’d spent my every available second writing my program to help connect missing children with their present-day likeness in between finishing up my master’s degree and working part time as a 911 operator.
That same program I’d written—with Maven’s ideas and urgings—where it connected every available fact known about the missing child to the DNA database, paired with what they’d look like today, had been what tipped me off to my best friend being a kidnapped child.
Her ‘father,’ Brock Austin, had stolen her in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. From there, he’d brought her home to Texas and had installed her in his life as his daughter.
And for years and years, the chief of the Dallas Police Department had been living a lie in plain sight.
After I’d exposed Brock’s machinations, Maven had been introduced to her family.
And that family I suspected was also connected to the Russian Mob—though they didn’t know I knew that.
It’d been Maven’s family who had helped me find two more missing children.
Maven’s family had never stopped looking for her, just like we hadn’t—at least Gavrel and I.
It’d been my new life’s mission to make this a reality for even more families.
Though, the Semyonov family had bankrolled me and given me the chance to focus on this new journey.
Technically, I didn’t have to keep working.
I only did it on the off chance that I saw a certain someone. Cough, cough, Gable, cough.
Though, just sayin’, I could’ve done the living on my own thing because of my dad’s, and then Gavrel’s, pensions that they’d left to me.
I think they knew that if my mom got it, she’d spend it on something that wasn’t useful in finding Mary Beth.
Mom had been very adamant from the beginning that we were hurting her when she knew in her heart that Mary Beth was gone.
My mom could give up all she wanted to.
I wouldn’t.
I never would.
I’d find Mary Beth and bring her home.
She may not be my biological sister, but she was my sister in every way that counted.
We’d been raised together since the two of us had been brought home—me from Japan, and her from Portland.
Dad was a protector.
He’d seen both of us while he was visiting both places—though Mom had been the one who’d introduced Mary Beth to Dad. Apparently, while she’d been visiting her family in Portland, a baby had been introduced to her from a family member. The next time they’d gone to visit family six months later, Mom had introduced Dad to Mary Beth.
Gavrel had been adopted from Russia when Dad had been there visiting a couple of his old bootcamp buddies who’d been stationed there.
He said we spoke to something broken inside him.
See, our father hadn’t been adopted.
He’d been left in the system since he was five, and bounced around from foster home to foster home.
Once, when Gavrel had been around eleven or twelve, he’d talked to him about his life growing up.
When Dad was four, his parents, grandparents, and two siblings had died in a car crash on Christmas Eve. Dad, the only one who’d been insulated in the middle seat when they’d rolled, had been the only one to survive.
Without a scratch.
Dad had been immediately transferred to foster care in Amarillo as they’d tried to locate his family.
But each of his family members that he had left said no to taking him in—including his mom’s parents.
From that point on, he’d been transferred from orphanage, to foster home, to orphanage, to foster home, until he’d aged out at eighteen. At eighteen, he’d joined the military, but had promised himself that if he could change a life, he would.