Page 95 of The Pawn
I nod, but don’t say anything. I can’t. I draw a tight breath in.
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” she asks me.
She doesn’t know that this probably wasn’t an accident.He was most likely pushed. My throat closes up at the thought.
“Do not go anywhere without the guard, you hear me? You can go home after, when this is all done, but you do not go anywhere without a guard. Say you understand. Tell me you understand.”
“Okay. Okay. I understand.” There’s a long pause. “I’ll see you soon, Cassian.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I disconnect. As I drive back home, I think.
There are two scenarios, two possible roads that led to the attack on Seth. Either my uncle told Malek he was still alive. Told him where he was. Or he arranged the attack. Either way, when Seth dies, his death will be on Angelo’s hands. Either way, I want to hear him say it. I want to hear him confess his betrayal because to attack me is one thing. To attack a hospitalized man who has no idea who the fuck he even is? That is something else entirely.
I slam my fist into the steering wheel.
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill Angelo and Malek and every fucking soldier loyal to them.
I pull through the gates of my house, one SUV behind me. The rest of the soldiers will remain behind with Seth. I stop the car and climb out oblivious to the rain that’s falling. I walk into the house.
“Where’s Allegra?” I ask the first man I see.
“Asleep, sir.”
“Good. Enzo?”
They look at each other. “Not sure,” one of them says.
I push a hand through my hair. Fuck. I’m so fucking tired. “Find him. Tell him to meet me in the crypt.”
My footsteps echo off the walls of this great churchwhere I still pick up the residue of incense. The scent of devotion. Of hope. Didn’t they know how dangerous a thing hope is?
I open the door to the crypt and hear Jet’s low voice. I head down. He has Angelo out of his cell and chained to the wall. Angelo’s face is beaten, but he’s conscious. Jet knows how to hurt a man without knocking him out. What’s the point if they’re unconscious?
Jet’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the tie of earlier is long gone, the top buttons undone. His hair is hanging into his eyes and sweat dots his forehead. Blood splatters decorate his shirt.
“Did you fucking tell Malek about Seth, you fucking bastard?” I ask, immediately coming to my uncle, pulling him upright by his hair. When he only stares at me, panting, I land a punch to his gut. He doubles over, or he would if I didn’t have that handful of hair. “Did you? You fucking traitor!”
Angelo groans and drops as low as the chains allow when I abruptly release him.
“How is Seth?” Jet asks.
I shake my head.
Jet mutters a curse.
“What a fucking shit show,” I say. I draw my arm back to hit Angelo again, but Jet stops me.
“He’s not going to last much longer if we keep this up.” I pull free, but Jet gets between me and Angelo. “You don’t want to kill him yet.”
I want to though. Fuck how I want to. But he’s right. I need answers. I walk away, slamming my fist into the stone crypt and cursing loudly as pain reverberates through my arm.
“I didn’t tell anyone about Seth. I wouldn’t,” Angelo mutters.
“So you arranged the hit then?”
He looks appalled I’d even suggest it. “I love you boys. Like my own sons.”
