Page 41 of Tied

Chapter 20

Cain

Despite his many flaws and bad decisions, my father was a book-smart and well-meaning man. He prided himself on his education, as he was the first and only one in his family to ever graduate from college. And he loved history, especially political history, which is why we always had a sizable library at home. Even during our time in hiding, my father made sure that we had the latest periodicals, newspapers and magazines on current events, since he was not able to bring his full library with him. I often sought refuge in these books and publications because no matter what I would pull from the shelves, it would definitely take me to a better place than reality. And by reading these stories of prominent men, men unafraid to fight and do what was right, to overthrow bad regimes and run for political office, to take down evil empires, I grew into the kind of man I wanted to be.

A leader. A doer. And not a fucking victim.

What I read and learned from those books gave me the courage to stand up to the cowards who shot my father. Those books shaped my way of thinking when I vowed to take revenge. And the men I met in their pages became idols of mine, even the ones who played on the wrong side of history. There was a lesson to be learned from every single one of them.

And now, as I sit on the bed next to Riley, holding her trembling hand in mine and seeing the terror on her face being replaced by deep and honest compassion as she listens to my story, I can’t help but remember one particular lesson. I think it was Niccolo Machiavelli, an Italian politician from the 15th century, who said that, as a leader, it’s always better to be feared than to be loved.

I’m not sure whether I agree with that assessment. I know that fear can make people do things they don’t want to do—I saw it with my father. My father was obedient, but he wasn’t loyal. Loyalty has to be earned. Loyalty isn’t something you can gain by force, by making people afraid of you. It didn’t work with my father, and it won’t work with Riley. I can see that now, as I watch the expression on her face changing. I tried to invoke fear. I tried threats and humiliation—and she didn’t even look at me then. She didn’t break, she didn’t waver, and she sure as hell did not want to help me.

But now looking at her, I think she does. Her eyes are teary again, but she is no longer tormented by fear. My story has moved her to the point of tears, and even though I never intended it to happen this way, I feel a strange sense of accomplishment. I never planned to tell her all of this, and I never wanted to use my story as a way to pull at her heartstrings just so she would comply with my demands.

Yet, I feel triumph at the way she looks at me now.

Because I know that I won.

I know she’s willing to help me, even before she parts her pretty lips to speak.

“Okay,” she says, her lower lip trembling. “I’ll do what you want me to do, under one condition.”

She glances at me with tension crossing her face.

“What makes you think you’re in a position to make demands?”

Her expression hardens even more and she presses her lips into a thin line. I can see her mind working behind that stony exterior, but it’s not clear whether she’s chewing on the right words to say or she’s merely hesitant to give voice to her thoughts.

“You said it yourself, Cain,” she says eventually, her chin lifting in a defiant motion. “You need me. You don’t have anyone else who could do this for you.”

She pins me down with a confident flicker in her eyes—and I hate it. I hate the fact that she’s right. I do need her, and I don’t have anyone else for the job.

But that doesn’t mean I’m solely dependent on her.

“I could always find someone else for the job,” I tell her in the best nonchalant tone I can muster. “Or change my plan. It’s not like I haven’t done that before.”

“Yes, but you said that this is the best approach you have ever come up with,” she reminds me. “And you’ll have to admit that finding a replacement for me wouldn’t be easy.”

That is true in more than one sense, but Riley doesn’t need to know that.

“So what is your condition?”

She’s hesitant for a moment, taking time to take a deep breath and clear her throat before she answers. I know she does it to keep me waiting and to relish the imbalance of power between us that seems to have shifted in her favor.

Better not get used to that feeling, little Miss Riley.

“I want... a cut,” she reveals eventually, unable to hide the shadow of insecurity in her voice.

“A cut?” I probe, raising an eyebrow at her.

I let go of her hand, a motion that visibly disappoints her. She doesn’t move her hand right away, but lets it rest between us for a moment, her eyes falling on it as if she’s regarding a strange object that is completely detached from her body.

“Money,” she clarifies in a low voice, and then she lifts her face up to look at mine. “I know you’re doing well with… whatever it is you’re doing. And I’m sure you’ll make bank on the Covey’s downfall, as well. Am I right?”

She regards me with a slight frown now, a bit too confident, if you ask me.

“What makes you think—”

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