Page 51 of They Call Him Reaper

“See? Alive and well. She’s perfectly happy with no duress to be found,” I offer.

“So, you do speak English,” Sheila muses, not the least bit surprised.

“Of course. I just needed to see if you could be trusted. By the way, Mendez twisted everything you asked.”

Inaya and I turn to leave with my hand still in hers, but Alex stops us.

“You still have to answer for the murder of Mari Wójcik.”

Inaya turns abruptly with wild eyes. “My mother?”

THIRTY-THREE

Inaya

The mentionof my mother gives me pause. A little after I ran away, I was sent information involving my mom’s murder. All the details pointed to it being Father’s doing. The anonymous note attached explained the evidence and why my dad murdered her. According to those letters, she didn’t agree with his lifestyle.

Now, with everything I know, I must pause to wonder if it was plausible that Dante could be involved. I know without a doubt that he’s the sender of said anonymous package. He looks at me with searching eyes to see if there is any indication of me believing them. I don’t know what I believe at this second, but I can’t also hear him out in a police station.

“I never touched her,” Dante growls at the detective.

“My client and his wife are tired. You can speak with them another time,” Caerwyn intervenes as he ushers us toward the door.

Both detectives give Dante accusatory glances, but I can’t allow myself to believe that my husband killed my mother. At least not now. I’m not blind to the fact that Dante hates my family. He took me to kill me, and he almost killed Father. Iknow he wants to finish what he started, so him killing my mother isn’t a far reach.

I continue to hold his hand to keep up appearances, but I let go once we’re behind the privacy of the town car’s tinted windows. Dante stares at me like he’s unsure what to think of my reaction.

“It’s all lies, Inaya. I didn’t kill your mother.”

I hear his words, but I’m still trying to work through everything. Maybe I was too hasty. Dante has had a hard life, and I’m now scared that our bond is solely based on my desire to make it all better for him. Would we be able to survive if he killed my mother?

The idea makes me lightheaded. I drop my head back on the headrest and take a few deep breaths.

“I just need to think, Dante.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” His words, a defeated whisper, somehow pull me out of the fog and clear the ringing in my ears.

His disappointment in my doubt hurts me as much as it hurts him. He’s right. No matter how brutal or harsh his words or delivery, Dante always told me the truth. Deception isn’t part of his demeanor. Vengeance? Yes, but not deception. Before he fell for me, there wasn’t anything stopping him from confessing to killing my mother. He’s never hidden that he was an assassin.

In fact, the only information that he’s delayed the entire time was his endgame for me and why he took me; even that was need-to-know. Once I’d looked past my denial for my situation, he’d only confirmed my theory.

I cannot imagine him breaking down and telling me about his painful past, yet conveniently leaving out some information like that. We’re back at Andrea’s compound faster than expected.

Dante exits the car; he slams the door with enough force to make the car shake. My flinch pulls a deep breath out of me.Closing my eyes, I take a few cleansing breaths and exit the car. I need to go to him. The dramatic shift in our relationships seems unreal at times. The stoic assassin who was itching to kill me is currently my upset husband. If he were normal, I’d let this simmer, but he’s new to this nor does he trust easily.

I don’t want him to shut down the softer side of him that I’ve worked so hard to reach. The driver helps me out of the car, and after quick words of gratitude, I go in search of my husband.

Andrea is chatting with Wyn and Theodore as I enter. His glacial eyes find mine, and he points in the direction of his garden without breaking a sentence. With a nod, I focus on the shiny floors as their voices begin to fade into the background. Outside of a quick tour, I haven’t really studied the expanse of Andrea’s home.

His garden looks like the best place to throw the poshest tea party I could imagine. Dante sits on one of the benches as he stares out at the lake. Although I know he’s far too trained to not know that I’m approaching, he doesn’t turn to look at me.

Hours ago, I was crying because he had to leave my side, just to let one of my Father’s manipulations give me pause. It’s the oldest tactic in the book. Divide and conquer. I’ve done my best to have a clear head since my life was turned upside down, but it doesn’t mean that I’m a professional in this lifestyle. I don’t always have a poker face, and some news can be surprising and upsetting.

I claim the open space on the bench next to him, but he still doesn’t look my way. Instead, he exhales slowly and looks down at his laced fingers. I push some of his hair out of his face, but his only response is his jaw clenching.

“Dante. You must admit that it’s not a far-fetched accusation,” I tell him lightly so he can see it from my side. “You want to kill Father - rightfully so - and you planned to kill me. My mother is just another person in a family you hate.”

“I’ve never hated you,” he snaps. Dante sits back and stares at me. His eyes hold so much emotion that I feel it squeezing my heart. All hurt with a hint of anger simmering beneath the surface. “I already told you. It was more about hurting Father than you. Your mother died when he had me imprisoned for one of his many lessons. I was nowhere near her.”

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