Page 43 of The Thief
"You don't have to decide anything today. Take your time, get to know us. Figure out if this feels like home or just another kind of prison."
"And if it feels like prison?"
"Then we'll figure out how to open the doors."
A simple promise honestly given. It’s the first time since arriving that someone's acknowledged I might not want to stay.
It makes me like Denis more than I probably should.
Freddie arrives as the sun's setting, looking like he hasn't slept in days. There are shadows under his eyes and tension in his shoulders that speaks to violence planned or violence done. I hadn’t expected to see him again, but I’m happy he’s here, and that scares me.
"Long day?" I ask as I take a seat on the comfortable chair in Henry's library. It's the only place I've found that's private, where I don't feel as though I'm being watched.
"Long enough." Freddie settles into the chair across from mine. "How are you holding up?"
"Still breathing."
"That's something."
"Is it? Marcus seems to think I'm a liability waiting to happen."
"Marcus thinks everyone's a liability until they prove otherwise."
"And how do I prove otherwise?"
"By being yourself. By not letting them turn you into something you're not."
Easy for him to say. He knows who he is, where he belongs. He doesn't have to navigate the space between family loyalty and personal conscience.
"Denis told me about the empire," I say. "Countries, territories, legitimate businesses mixed with less legitimate ones."
"Big operation."
"Bigger than I expected. Makes Belfast look like a playground fight."
Freddie's quiet for a moment, studying my face like he's trying to read something there.
"Having second thoughts?"
"Having first thoughts. I haven't really processed any of this yet."
"Take your time. No rush."
But there is a rush, isn't there? A war's coming, people are dying, and every day I delay deciding where I stand is another day of uncertainty for everyone involved.
"Tell me about your friend," I say. "The one who died. Jer. You said he saved your life. You must be in pain."
Pain flickers across Freddie's face, quickly hidden but not quick enough.
"Jer was... He was the closest thing to a father I ever had. He pulled me off the streets when I was fourteen, taught me everything I know about surviving in this world."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"He was a good man. Better than most in our line of work."
"What was your line of work?"
"Thief. Best in Ireland, according to Jer."
