Page 86 of Ruthless God

“How long will this take?” he asks, voice low.

The older man glances up at the cloudless sky, then back at Claudius.

“Ground’s tough. Haven’t had a good, soaking rain.” He shifts his grip on the handle. “A few hours, tops.”

Claudius nods and turns, moving away from the impending excavation. My gaze follows him as he stops beneath a tree just outside the fence. The tree doesn’t match the others on the island. It shouldn’t be here.

Its ashen-gray bark looks burned, but it’s untouched. Its leaves blaze in fiery shades of red-orange, even though it’s not fall. Something about it unsettles me. Like it was planted for Gabriel. Like it belongs to him.

“What kind of tree is this?” I ask, stepping closer.

“Vermillion Ash.” Claudius’ lips curve. It’s not quite a smile, but something farther away. “Gabriel wanted to buy the island because of it.”

I blink. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

Claudius turns his back on the men digging, facing the tree instead.

“It was never meant to survive here.” His fingers brush the bark, reverent yet distant. “Legend says if you cut it, it bleeds molten sap that hardens into obsidian glass.”

A shiver ripples down my spine.

“Obsidian,” I murmur. “The crystal girlie inside me is intrigued.”

His brows lift.

“Oh? Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“To what? Believe in a higher power?” I pause. “Obsidian is a protective stone. It absorbs and shields against negative energy. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

I hum, watching the way his jaw tightens slightly.

“But you have to be careful with it,” I add. “It can bring up a lot of past traumas.”

A breeze stirs the fiery leaves overhead.

“Maybe that’s what I need.” He exhales, the weight of something heavier than words pressing against him. “It’s starting to feel like I haven’t been dealing with things as well as I thought.”

It’s admirable that he can admit that.

The tension shifts, the space between us quiet but charged. I take my chance.

“Will you tell me about the girls in the house?”

It’s risky. He might tell me to go to hell. Or worse. He might tell me to go back inside.

“What do you want to know?”

I don’t hesitate. “Did you buy them?”

A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Some. Some are purchases Gabriel made.”

A slow chill wraps around my spine.

“Why?” My voice is sharp. Demanding. “Why would you do that?”

He watches me.

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