Page 112 of Exodus

“Wow, now I’m really intrigued.”

“Don’t be. He’s just a man who wants to own the company, this plant in particular. He’s got his reasons, and he’ll do right with it.”

“Well, I sure as fuck don’t want to leave you in a room with him if you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Cee—” he grips my hands in his, forcing me to face him. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold in here.”

His eyes narrow, calling bullshit.

“It’s just been a long time.”

“You’re sure you can handle this?”

No.

“Positive. Ryan, please do me a favor and give me a minute alone.”

When he hesitates, I shake my head. “I swear, I’ve got this.”

“Okay, I’ll be just outside that door.”

“Thank you.”

When the door closes, I move toward the window and stare into the trees on the other side of it.

Over six years without a word, and this is all I get? Years of silence, and he expects me to hand it over without a fight? His audacity only feeds my residual anger. I understand his grudge, for Roman and for me, but this move only adds insult to catastrophic injury.

For years my father monopolized the city’s welfare, and it’s only fitting that they fought back. Tobias was always going to be the one to give it back to them. I was so young then, I never really saw the bigger picture, but his plans haven’t changed. Small town justice was always his gateway to corporate warfare.

And I can’t even hold a grudge for it. It’s brilliant. From an alliance formed when they were just teenagers to the bittersweet victory of today, he seems to have done everything he set out to do. Everything.

His day of reckoning has finally come. And ironically, I’ll be the one to gift it to him.

But not without seeking some justice of my own.

When the door opens and closes some minutes later, I keep my gaze out the window but can feel his hesitance from feet away.

“Well done, Tobias, but you had to know I’d figure it out.”

Silence. A long minute of quiet followed by another. I can feel his eyes on me, my spine prickling in awareness, my heart fluttering in my chest.

“I didn’t care if you did.” The timbre in his voice combined with the thick foreign lilt has my eyes closing and my heart lurching into rapid rhythm. For years I dreamt of hearing his voice, and for years I’ve replayed echoes of his soft murmurs during our most intimate moments.

“So why didn’t you show up?”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“You mean I’m not worthy of a handshake? Or at the very least a little gloating on your part.”

“No gloating necessary. I’m well aware of your position to deny me this. But you never cared about his company.”

“Why now? Why did you wait so long?”

“I wasn’t sure I wanted it anymore.”

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