Page 16 of High Stakes

“You don’t understand,” Nathan says, his voice cracking. “She’s terrified of the dark.”

A laugh escapes me—harsh and bitter. It feels ridiculous, pathetic even. But Nathan’s expression isn’t one of deceit.

“Leave, Nathan,” I command, though his resolve doesn’t waver.

“Damn it, Leone! Give her some light. A lamp, anything!” His voice breaks, cutting through the cold atmosphere of my office. His plea echoes off the walls, slicing into me in a way I didn’t expect.

I pause, considering him. The tremor in his voice ignites something unfamiliar in me—guilt, maybe. I shove it aside.

“Why?” I ask, curious despite myself.

“She’s my firefly,” he whispers. I’ve heard him call her the nickname before, but now the word hits differently for some reason, like it’s not some cute childhood nickname.

“I know her childhood nickname,” I reply, still unsure where this is going.

Nathan shakes his head. “No, she was my light. She protected her sister when I couldn’t,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

I narrow my eyes, confusion surfacing. He sighs, the fight draining from him as he stares down at the floor, weighed down by his past.

“After my wife left, I needed help with the kids while I worked. I never thought my own mother would be so cruel, but she was the only family I had. Emma was a sick baby, her medication expensive. I thought everything was fine.”

I lean back, arms folded, waiting for him to continue.

“I was working,” he glances away from me, but he swallows down whatever emotion seems to have choked him. “The school called, asking why Fallon wasn’t attending classes. I had no idea. I’d been too busy working away. My mother had promised to look after them. I found out later she’d been locking Fallon in a cupboard with her newborn sister.”

Shocked by his admittance, I find myself listening closely despite my indifference. Nathan’s eyes fill with old pain as he meets my gaze.

“I worked nonstop, Leone. I came home on weekends, thinking everything was fine. But Fallon spent years locked away in a cupboard with Emma. She spent years in therapy trying to overcome her fear of the dark. You locking her away would be bringing back every memory of my mother’s torture on her.”

“You’re lying, you’re telling me your mother locked her away for years and you didn’t notice?” I scoff.

His voice cracks, the weight of his confession evident in every syllable. “I thought she liked fireflies,” he says softly, as if talking to himself. “She used to catch them on the weekends when I would be home. She’d cry for hours if she couldn’t find any.”

His words echo in my mind, clashing with the memory of Fallon begging for the lightbulb. It’s the one thing she hasn’t stopped asking for—the light.

“And where is your mother now?” Nathan's gaze turns darker and he is unable to meet my eye.

“Your mother, where is she?” I repeat.

“She is still out there,” Nathan answers finally though his gaze is distant.

“Excuse me?” I ask shocked. If this woman did this she should be locked up, or worse.

Nathan’s eyes lift to meet mine. “She can't hurt her no more, that I can assure you.” The hatred in his gaze I realize is not directed at me but by the mother who spawned him. Though, now I am more curious than ever because this man has shown how far he would go for his daughters by robbing the most feared man in the city.

“You killed her didn't you?” I ask and he clenches his teeth, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“Does Fallon know you're a murderer?” I ask him knowing I now have leverage on this man.

“I never said I killed her.” I laugh.

“You didn't have to, you seem to forget who I am Nathan, what I am. I can see it on your face, I know your hands are bloody like mine.” Nathan stands straighter, moving toward me he places his hands on my desk.

“She deserved it, and I would do it again.” I lean back in my chair, watching him. “But at least what I did, I did for my girls. I don’t kill and torture people for entertainment. But you, locking my daughter down there with no lights…” I glare at him wondering where he is daring to go with this.

“You aren't punishing her! You are just showing her that you're exactly like her grandmother.”

“Is that so Nathan?” I lean forward.

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