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Matt POV

"Do you understand how hard it is to get anything through to your daughter?"

I was strewn across my mom's couch, watching as she signed different paperwork for the Gallagher trustees. I left the group playing soccer a while ago and came to her office to talk. I told her about Abby and everything she had been struggling with over the past couple of weeks. I explained to my mom that she was struggling with us being legacies and her intense desire to make something of herself.

My mom looked up at me and smiled.

"I know I can be stubborn but what is in your sister is all your father's doing."

I rubbed my face and sat up. "Mom she feels like she's failing horribly and no matter how many times someone reminds her about her accomplishments, she writes it off like they were nothing," I held my hands out in front of me in surrender, "I don't know what to do."

My mom stood up and came to sit next to me. "I heard she fought Gracie."

"She fought Gracie mom."

She patted my knee and said simply, "Let her figure it out." I scoffed.

"It'll take her years to figure it out mom. Besides, she's causing herself danger by focusing all her energy on trying to prove herself instead of her P&E. She got a 98 on her exam today. A ninety-eight mom. Do you remember the last time Abby got anything less than a one hundred on a P&E exam?"

"Seventh grade," my mom chuckled.

"That's how you know she's been distracted by something. P&E is her bread and butter and she got a 98...I'm worried about her mom."

"Matthew Goode listen to me: you are your sister's keeper but you are not to be her dictator. She's struggling with being a legacy yes. I did too. I am the daughter of Matthew Morgan and Rachel Solomon. I understand what is means to be a legacy more than anyone else. I grew up struggling with who I was and how great of a spy I was supposed to be because of who my parents were.

"But what I had to learn was that I am my own person; being chased and tortured by the circle because of my own actions and who I was only reiterated that. Abigail will learn but it will be on her own time. People could tell her stuff all day Matt, but until she chooses to let it soak in, she'll never get it."

I just started at my mom before slowly nodding. "Okay."

"Good."

She stood up and walked to her desk before reaching under for the secret compartment and pulling out a scarlet envelope with perfect calligraphy on the front. I may be the manliest of men but I'm a sucker for some pretty lettering.

"What is that?" She laid it on the desk in front of her and frowned. "It arrived in the mail at out Richmond house, addressed to Abigail with no return address.

I had it scanned for bio-hazards, bomb threats, and everything you could think of...but it's just a letter." My mom looked up with a very concerned look in her eyes. "That's what scares me the most about it."

I came over to the desk and touched the envelope. The front read, 'Miss Abigail Goode', in gold ink which peaked my interest even more. "Beautiful letters though," I murmured.

My mom gave me a disapproving look and I smirked at her.

"You haven't told her." My mom shook her head, her hair flowing with the movement.

"No. I don't know what's in it and I don't think I want to know." "Don't let Abby know this exists mom. It'll only fuel the fire she has to do something worthwhile."

"I know what I want to do, but I don't know if hiding it would be better or worse." I touched the letter gently and flipped it over.

On the back was a symbol. It was perfect circle with a line going through the middle. One side was shaded in with blood red ink. I could feel my skin pale and my breathing turn shallow.

"We've searched every database and library in the nation. We contacted our trusted advisors in MI6 and in Ireland. No one knows what it is."

I gripped the desk hard enough to make the wood groan.

"Matthew what is it?" "If this is the same group that I think it is, Abby is in danger."

"Matthew what do you know about this group?" Gone was my mother and in her place was Operative Goode ready to interrogate. "You need to call dad," I swallowed and trying to ignore the frantic beating of my heart.

"Tell him the Uomini Morti are back and they're targeting Abby."

…..

My mom was on the phone for the rest of the day, hurriedly calling her most trusted contacts about the U.M. Very few people had ever come in contact with the group and naturally my father and I were two very unlucky people.

I paced the length of my mother's office enough to cause her to snap at me to leave.

I didn't take it personally- she was scared.

I was scared.

I walked out of my mother's office and slipped into a hidden passageway behind a portrait of Gilly Gallagher. I was forced to duck in order to avoid smacking my head on the pipes that hung low and cursed under my breath as I brushed up against the dirty wall. I rubbed at my shirt furiously as I climbed out into the library and fell into the closest armchair too me in defeat.

I had only one brush with death before in my life and that was a Blackthorne mission gone wrong. My Torture Techniques professor decided to take out a vendetta he had against my father and sent me and Jake on an assignment to infiltrate a drug lord's meeting and pretend to be rich heirs with nothing better to do with their time than buy drugs.

Little did we know that we had walked in on a meeting full of the most dangerous men in the world. We barely escaped, thanks to one of our agents posing as one of theirs, but the entire encounter still shakes me up. I sagged in the chair and groaned outwardly. Of course the Uomini Morti would send a personal invitation to Abby.

They had to have known who she was, whose child she was, whose sister she was! If they had targeted her just to get back at me...I didn't even want to entertain the idea.

"Matt are you okay?" I looked up to see Rylee standing over me, causing me to jump.

"I didn't even hear you," I sat up and smiled at her, forcing the stress to leave my face.

"No sir," she stretched the O's out, "you can't hide that from me. I've lived with your sister for the past 5 years. I know a 'I'm hiding something' face when I see one."

"Unfortunately I can't tell you."

Rylee pouted, her eyes shining with mischief. "

When has that ever stopped me from finding something out?"

She plunked down on the arm of the chair and folded her legs before staring down at me. I looked up at her and fought a grin, despite the fear still clutching at my heart.

Rylee has always been gorgeous to me. Her hair is this insane red-orange color that always seems to be in perfect ringlets. Her eyes always grabbed my attention, especially the way they seemed to grow more emerald as she got angry, and her laugh was hilarious to me. But she was Abby's friend- so she wasn't an option.

I sat up straighter to avoid her legs pressing against me. Something dark passed in her eyes but she smiled anyway.

"Spill," she demanded. "Someone I know is in grave danger and they don't know. The threat may be neutralized, but I'm worried about what it'll do to our relationship if I don't tell them."

"Why would you not telling them be an issue?"

"This person has this "I need to put myself out there" complex and it may just be the death of them." Understand registered in her face and she smirked, "And telling this person might very well put them in more danger."

"My mom already got past Gallagher's defenses and her parents her junior year...Abigail would love to get past the aforementioned and a CIA bunker, in the middle of Siberia, in winter. What do you think she would do if she knew that one of the most dangerous terrorist groups in the world had sent her a fancy letter?"

"Seeing as she has no self preservation, I believe that Abby would find that exciting." "That's exactly why I don't want to tell her. She might pull a Cameron Morgan and end up cut open on a torture table."

Rylee stood and stretched. My eyes might have traveled down her legs and up to her face with her movement. "You have to ask yourself though; what would Abby do if she knew that a dangerous terrorist group was personally inviting you to tea?"

I groaned and fell back against the seat. Rylee giggled and patted the top of my head.

"Have fun with that one."

Uomini Morti (wah-mini mar-tee) = Dead Men