Travelling is only pleasant for those who have the money for nice seats and the right amount of Instagram followers to post aesthetic pictures. For people like Nik who needed to keep a low profile, it meant being stuck in economy with several screaming babies and limited legroom for almost fourteen hours straight.

By the time he touched down at Heathrow, it was late and his patience had run out hours ago. It was raining and the sky was greyer than his morals. In other words, a shitty start to a shitty day.

Ivan had instructed him to not let anyone know that he was there. Easier said than done. That meant no flashy cars, no decent hotel rooms, and especially no weapons that could be traced back to him.

Fucking great.

Nik was pretty sure that Ivan had sent him to London because he had called him an ass, Which he was. What else would he call him? Delusional? Stupid? An ever-loving prick who ran away from their feelings? It wouldn't matter because whatever Nik called him would be true and he'd end up in fucking London of all places.

This place sucked. But, hey, At least the food didn't taste like shit. He had ordered some naan and chicken tikka curry to go. It didn't taste as spicy as what Meera had made, there was too much cream and it was unusually sweet but he scarfed it down as he kept an eye on his target.

London wasn't just for colonized Indian food or a dingy hotel room that smelled like a dead rat, there was more to the city than that. They had their fair share of crime families. Nik only knew three from memory and even he wasn't sure about it. Anya had been cagey about the details, holding Meera's folder close to her chest. It didn't take her long to figure out that Nik had tried to give it to Ivan. He expected her to get mad, maybe try to stab him with her pointy stilettos but she didn't. Anya asked him to find out who owned the SS Singhania. It didn't take long. Nik had spent the better part of the past three days sifting through cargo logs and I interviewed/interrogated witnesses. Whatever—or whoever—had been in that cargo ship, it just meant trouble in the future.

Currently, Nik was perched on the roof opposite a restaurant in East End. A coffee cup in his hand to keep away the rainy chill and the holding binoculars to peer into the glass windows. He placed his coffee down as he saw several men walk into the restaurant, one of them dressed in a light grey suit.

Nik had no fucking clue who this guy was.

He was the only one that paused to look around him, green eyes scanning the rooftops. Nik ducked down a little, keeping his eyes trained on him. Curly brown hair soaked due to the rain and sharp features, he looked to be taller than six feet. Nik calculated the odds of fighting him in his head, wondering if this guy was the one he had been searching for.

This was a meetup spot for the Ottavio Family. From what information he had gathered in the past week, mostly from seedy arms dealers and dock workers, the Ottavio family had a connection with Zoya just before he died. Nik had snuck into the docks one night, nearly risking several tetanus shots as he climbed over the rusted fences. The SS Singhania was docked there, being refitted for renovation....and on the deck of that very ship was the man who was standing outside the coffee shop.

Shit. Just what was he getting into? Arlo, Zoya's useless kid, was gone. There was no trace of him and now he was wondering if this guy had anything to do with that.

The man, as if he detected his thoughts, stared right at him. His lips curved into a cruel smirk as he raised his hand to wave at Nik.

"Fuck!" Nik cursed.

He felt a cold muzzle pressed to the base of his head, the safety clicking off.

"I guess London isn't the only city with rats," someone said behind him, their voice blending in with the rain. "Looks like Americans have them too."

"Why?" Nik bluffed, putting his binoculars down. "Are you an exterminator or something?"

He turned around and kicked the person in the shin. They dodged out of the way, taking a few steps away from Nik but not letting the barrel of the gun drop. Nik scoffed and reached into his jacket, pulling out his gun. He had bought off a dealer near Piccadilly, paying extra for a silencer and explicit instruction to keep his mouth shut. Looks like somebody opened their trap.

The person in front of him was dressed head to toe in black. A black leather trench coat, a black knit sweater, black leggings and thick steel-toed boots would make a dent in his head. A woman with her face hidden by a mask revealing only dark eyes that shimmered in the dim light.

"Looks like we're even," Nik said, circling her. She moved with each step that he took, mimicking him till her back faced the ledge. "You wanna take off the mask or do you want to have a Mexican standoff in the fucking rain?"

"Who are you?" The woman asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Shouldn't that be my question?"

Whoever this woman was, looked vexed. "Answer the question," she said unusually calm.

"Ah, fuck this!" Nik took a shot, aiming for the coffee cup on the ledge. It exploded, spewing lukewarm coffee everywhere.

She was distracted for one a moment but Nik took that opportunity to grab her arm. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, twisting her arm till the gun clattered to the floor. He had his gun pressed to her temple within seconds. Nik didn't know who this woman was but they weren't great at fighting. He didn't mind using that to his advantage. If it was between a bullet and a knife, he'd just take the gun.

"So....you wanna tell me who you are before I blow your fucking brains out?"

the woman lifted her leg and kicked him as hard as she could. Nik could hear his bone-cracking before he felt it. He stumbled, losing his grip on her.

He reached out, grabbing her mask instead.

The rain was still pouring and his foot throbbed in pain. Damn. The last thing he needed was a broken bone, he couldn't imagine spending another fourteen hours in an economy seat with zero fucking legroom.

The woman lifted her hand to her face where the mask had been. He paused once his eyes adjusted to the light.

"M-Meera?" His eyes widened. "What the fuck are you—?"

"How do you know that name!?" She hissed at him, rubbing her wrist.

This wasn't Meera but Nik couldn't help but marvel at how similar she looked. She was older, probably in her late forties but her skin was clear and youthful. The more Nik stared, the more he made out her features. A sharp nose, dark almond-shaped eyes, full lips, and a heart-shaped face—this woman was related to Meera. There was no doubt.

"You're not her..."

The woman gave him a flat look, brushing her hair out of her face. "You're right. I'm not. So...tell me. Who are you and how do you know my daughter?"

By the time introductions were over, the downpour had settled into a drizzle. Nik felt the cold sink into his bones, he pulled the scarf around his neck tighter. The woman who decided that the best way to introduce yourself was by pointing a gun at someone was Meera Saravana's mother—the famous or rather infamous—Sonica Saravana.

Nik couldn't believe it.

"Is she safe?"

"Yeah," Nik said, sorting down, gripping the edge of his seat. "She's safe."

"Thank goodness," Sonica Saravana sighed, leaning against the brick wall. "I heard about what happened...I thought that she—"

"Look, Dr Saravana, I'm not sure how to say this respectfully—what the hell are you doing in London?"

Sonica glanced over the ledge, eyeing the restaurant across the street. "I think you've met, Jay Ottavia," she nodded to the man who was smoking a cigarette. "How much do you know about this man?"

"He owns the SS Singhania," Nik started to count off on his fingers. "He's a pretentious shot that likes Armani. Drinks tequila without the lime or the salt. Like to make trouble. Oh, and how could I forget? He's the fucking head of the Ottavia family that I've been following for days!"

She curled her lip in disgust at the name. "He's the man who made my daughter's life a living hell."

"Yeah," Nik scoffed. "I can tell, he's a really pleasant guy."

Dr Saravana looked down at her phone, grimacing at its contents. "I need to go," she said. "I'm sorry that we've met like this. I hope your foot feels better."

"Hey, wait!" Nik grabbed her wrist. "That's it! That's all you gotta say about it?! What about Meera?!"

"She's safe, that's all that matters. Look, I need to—"

"She's your fucking daughter!" Nik yelled, not bothering to keep his voice down. "You're just going to leave her there?! Gee! No wonder she has abandonment issues! With a mom like you, I'd be fucked on the head too!"

Her ears turned red. "How dare you—?"

"Save it," he let go of her hand. "Your daughter nearly died a few weeks ago. Did you know that?"

"I did."

"And you're still here!"

"I must protect my daughter. You have no idea how she's been hunted like prey for years!" She hissed at him. "Keeping men like him away from her is the best I can do!"

Nik scoffed. "Yeah, that sure fucking helped! You know Zoya, that fucking prick—-may his soul rot in hell—he's the one who hurt your daughter. And you know what? She's the one who killed him! So I don't know what bullshit that's going on inside of that head of yours but you need to come back to New York before you 1lose your daughter forever. Because let me tell you, Doctor, nobody—-and I mean nobody—-should ever feel like their family doesn't give a single fuck about them."

"I care!"

He turned around, picking up his binoculars. "Yeah, then fucking show it."

"I don't have to listen to you...."

"You don't. But Meera is a friend to me." He sighs, staring down at Jay Ottavia who smiled up at him and waved. "I might end up dead so listen carefully. Both of you are running, maybe from that asswipe down there or someone else...whoever. That isn't going to help you anymore. Go back to your Daughter, Doctor. It's the best chance you'll have at survival."

Nik heard the sound of her heels clicking across the concrete and the sound of the fire escape door opening and closing. And then the silence that felt oppressive. He tossed his Binoculars to the side. There was no point in using them.

He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and his gun before heading downstairs, crossing the street and entering the coffee shop that was teeming with bodyguards. Oddly enough, he didn't feel out of place here. It was like any sort of hangout that gangsters frequented. Nik might've not been British but he was certainly a criminal.

Jay Ottavia was seated against the wall. Nik sat down at the table, sipping from his glass of water as he watched the man lit up a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, taking a deep drag before exhaling through his nose.

"So...you've been snooping around my ships?" He asked, holding out his cigarette to Nik. There was no greeting, no small talk. Just straight to the bitter point. "Want to tell me why or should I just beat it out you?"

Nik scoffed. "I don't smoke."

"Good boy," he said. "But it won't help you live longer."

He grinned, showing off his perky white teeth. Something about that action reminded Nik of a wolf snapping its jaws before attacking its prey. He reached into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the gun. "Why do you have the SS Singhania?"

Jay shrugged. "Because I own it. It was given to me by an....unfortunate associate."

"But...?"

"Why so curious? It's none of your business. The Farewells have their territory and I have mine. So what if I send a ship to drop something off. Nobody gets hurt.

Yet, Nik thought but he wisely kept it to himself. He was known to be a bit of a loudmouth which easily earned him some trouble. Nik had learned his lessons from bar fights that left him with broken bones and a night in a cell for looking at someone the wrong way. Jay Ottavia looked like the time of man who liked watching someone skirt under his gaze. Good thing Nik had a thick skin.

"You didn't send a thing. You sent someone." Nik pointed out. "So who was it?"

"Just a dear friend."

"Sure. And I'm Santa Claus."

Jay looked at him with keen eyes. "Who are you?"

"I'm just a grunt. They send me to get things."

"So you're expendable?" Nik bit the inside of his cheek. This guy was just trying to rile him up and get information out of him. He had spent years playing poker with Anya and Dimitri, he knew how to bluff.

"As I said...I'm useful."

"That's a pity."

"Jay, huh?" Nik raised his eyebrow at him. "Which family are you from?"

"A new one. London is very different compared to several years ago."

"Yeah," Nik grinned, itching to bring his gun out. "Too bad....I haven't fucking heard of you."

"Ah, that's unfortunate. Maybe I should just kill you to send a message to the Farewell's."

"You wanna start another war?" Nik raised his eyebrow. "That would be a terrible idea."

Jay contemplated his words, mulling over what he was going to say. Nik grabbed the steak knife, twirling it in his fingers. It wouldn't do much damage but he felt better when he had something sharp in his hand.

"Men are willing to go to war for anything. Money, power and women. All three lead to our downfall. You know something....I liked a lovely young girl. She was smart and beautiful and she liked to wear ribbons in her hair." He said, taking another drag of his cigarette. "But she betrayed me...and her family, instead ing of protecting her took my side. Quite a pity. I would've given her everything she would have ever wanted if she just gave herself to me."

"Gave herself to you?" Nik repeated incredulously. "If you said that about my sister, she'd kick your ass within seconds."

"I hope I never have to meet her."

Nik rolled his eyes. He's seen enough guys try to hit on his older sister through him. "Please. I grew up with her." He got up quickly, throwing some bills down."You better make sure I don't catch you ass in New York," he said. "We don't like uninvited guests."

"Do you know a woman named Meera?" Jay asked, just as he was about to leave.

Nik froze, his hand on the handle. He turned his head around, giving the man the coldest look he could imagine. "No,' he said. "Why?"

"Because I heard she's in New York." He snuffed out his cigarette. "It might be a Rumor or it could be nothing. Maybe you've run into her?"

"Look, buddy. I just came here for business. I don't know this 'Meera' or whoever it is you're looking for," Nik lied smoothly. "And even if I did just take My advice and leave her alone. She's not worth the trouble."

"If I were a sane man I'd listen to you." He shrugged. "Oh well, her loss. I hope you have a safe trip across the pond."

Nik didn't even bother with a response. The moment he was clear of the coffee shop, he booked it to his dingy hotel room and grabbed his stuff. He sent a quick text to Dr Saravana senior, telling her that he was leaving. He didn't get a response back, but he could care less at that point.

Within three hours, Nik managed to get himself onto a plane to New York.

He didn't sleep the entire flight.