Page 12 of Seeds of Sorrow

She was unable to hold in her laugh, some of her anxiety peeling away in the process. “Don…”

The old man chuckled and stood, placing his hand on Peyton’s shoulder. “I’m right and you can’t convince me otherwise. Fools, I tell you. Now, I think I’m going to go and have a cup of coffee in the garden. I could do with some silence.” He reached out a hand to pick up his dinner plate, but Peyton took it from his grasp. “Let me deal with this. Go enjoy your relaxation!”

Scraping the leftovers onto one plate and piling up the rest, Peyton headed into the kitchen. She debated on filling the dishwasher but sentimentality called to her. Whenever she was little and her parents got into an argument, she’d always find her mom washing the dishes by hand in the kitchen. She’d often ask her mother why she was giving herself double the work and Peyton would receive the same response:it gives me time to think.

While Peyton wasn’t sure she wanted to think about the events of the night, she found herself filling the sink with soapy water and getting to work on the tableware.

* * *

It tookher far longer than she would have wanted, but Peyton breathed a sigh of relief once the last fork was polished and placed back into the drawer. She figured a bath before bed would soothe both her body and mind, but the light in Hadina’s office caught her eye. She assumed that Hadina would have left after speaking with Piper, but Peyton could still hear voices coming from inside. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop. It was absolutely accidental when she crept forward and stood outside the office door, thankful they had left it ajar.

“Hadina, you haven’t thought this through. You absolutely never go against your own protocols. What’s wrong?”

Peyton heard Hadina scoff and slam a drawer shut. “Apart from our royal bitch of a sister? Or the obscene amount of work I have to do, since Zellie can’t be trusted and you refuse to be part of the business?”

Piper sighed and Peyton was almost sure she heard her drop into the seat in front of Hadina’s desk. “You know that’s not fair. I’m not… like you and Zellie. I can’t turn it on and off. Besides, that’s not the problem anyway. Tell me what’s really wrong.”

“Pip, I love you, but please stop. I’m not going to tell you every thought I have in my brain. I’ve asked you to do thisonething. Please tell me you’ll do it.”

“Fine,” Piper said, sounding defeated. “But I’m not involved after this. I’ll set up a meeting at the gallery so he doesn’t suspect anything, but you better make sure my place is spotless when you’re done.”

“Pfft, I have people for that,” Hadina countered.

“I’ll call him now.”

Hearing Piper move closer to the door—her steps noticeably lighter and less imposing than her sister’s—Peyton cursed under her breath and frantically looked around for somewhere to hide. She settled for taking a few steps back, hoping it would appear as though she was only just now approaching the door. However, the look Piper gave her when their eyes connected told Peyton her ruse hadn’t been all that convincing.

“Sister, you have a visitor,” Piper announced through the open door, winking at Peyton as she passed.

“Dear Lord,why?” Peyton whispered.

Straightening her back and steeling herself for whatever mood Hadina was in, Peyton hoped she appeared confident as she entered the room. She was almost sure she would see Hadina sitting behind the desk, paperwork scattered in front of her. She most definitely didn’t expect to see Hadina slipping a switchblade into her boot before picking up a gun and emptying a box of bullets onto the desk to fill it.

“What the fuck?” Hadina looked up, her nostrils flaring as she saw her onlooker was Peyton and not Don. Still, she didn’t stop her task, loading bullets into the clip. She held Peyton’s gaze as she loaded the clip and slapped it into the handle before pulling back the slide to chamber a round.

Peyton gulped, both intimidated and—confusingly—a little turned on by the way Hadina handled the gun, confident and dominating.

“You don’t need to be here right now, Miss Dimitra.”

Peyton let out a shaky breath, finding that her feet were stuck in place. “Why–what–Hadina, what the fuck?”

Hadina smiled. It was cold, uninviting, and made Peyton shiver. “It’s none of your concern.”

“You have a fucking arsenal in the same house where I work and sleep! How is that not my concern?”

Rolling her eyes, Hadina slipped the gun into the back of her pants like it was something she did regularly. Peyton’s eyes widened at the thought. Fear ran through her veins like ice, keeping her frozen to the spot in the same room as someone who clearly knew how to use a weapon. Or confidently load one, at least.

“If you think this is an arsenal, you’d hate to see my apartment,” Hadina quipped.

“Please don’t joke about that,” Peyton whispered.

Hadina tilted her head, looking at Peyton quizzically. “Who says I’m joking?”

Peyton glanced at the ceiling, inhaling deeply. “Lord, give me strength.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Peyton,” Hadina stated, walking around the desk and standing in front of her. “You don’t need to pray to a higher power for protection.”

“Hadina, please, tell me what’s going on. Why do you have a gun? What’s happening? I don’t feel comfortable being in the same house as deadly weapons.”

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