“I…sorry. How did…? Were you…?”
“I was already there,” he admits, somehow understanding my disjointed chittering. “I saw Frank slip into Dax’s office and snuck into the tunnels to listen in. I didn’t even know you knew about the boardroom door, and I didn’t want to freak you out, so I fell back into the shadows.” I hear a trace of regret or apology in his tone but clearly not enough for him to voice it aloud.
I snap at him in shame rather than genuine anger, “You ought to have said something.”
“I didn’t know you’d stick around to eavesdrop,” he throws back.
Damn, he’s right. We’re as bad as each other.“I didn’t intend to, but they were talking about me and–”
His hands fly up and appear from the dark so unexpectedly that I flinch. He takes a step back and uses a softer, calmer tone. “Hey. No judgement. I was doing the same thing,andI did it intentionally.”
“Why?”
He heaves a tired sigh before answering. “To get a better look at the bigger picture.”
“Why?”
“Because people I care about are getting hurt. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
Would I? Yes. I’ve pretty much proven I do anything to keep my people safe. I guess can’t judge Ben for that, but I’m curious too. “Do you mean Tom?”
“Yeah. He’s more my brother than Dean’s…Dax’s. We grew up together. Before Dax ever got involved with Celeste Trevainne.”
Celeste Trevainne. Her again, but Ben makes her sound like a bad experience. Like a regret. Still, it confirms that this house, business, Sylvie, and Dax…were all hers once.
Ben continues talking and filling in blanks I didn’t knowexisted.
“Frank, Dean, Tom, and I were as close as family once. Frank raised us to think of him like a father,a guardian against the hells of the Vale, but, looking back, I think he was more like Fagin from Oliver Twist. When Dean stumbled onto Trevainne, he brought us all with him, thinking he was saving us too. That’s why Frank thinks he can say whatever he wants and it’s also why you shouldn’t worry yourself about the things Frank says. He’s only every really concerned about himself.”
Well, that was news to me. With the way Dax speaks to Frank, I figured he was an employee. There’s no love lost between them now. I’d never have guessed to a deeper or longer connection. With Ben, yes, but never Frank.
“You all knew each other? From the Vale? I thought Frank was just another bodyguard.”
“Yeah, we knew each other and no, Frank isn’t a bodyguard. He thinks of himself as an adviser. Which suits him because scheming is his most used trait. Think of him like an uncle; one that over estimates himself and his importance.”
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
Ben snorts. “Frank took me under his wing when my parents turfed me onto the streets at six. I was a dead kid walking, but he swept me up and taught me skills to survive. He did the same for Dean after his mum died. We were kin. Not blood, but chosen. While I’m grateful for that, I’m also fully aware of why he did it…and it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. I don’t know. Feelings are complicated, right?”
True. I can appreciate that. If I had a choice growing up, I’d have chosen anyone over Eric. Turns out he wasn’t blood anyway, and it was never my choice to begin with.
“Frank taught you and Dax, but what about Tom?” I ask, picking up on the deliberate absence of his name. With Ben so willing to talk, I keep pressing for answers to understand and learn. There’s a dynamic in this house that has me mis-stepping andsecond guessing everyone and everything within it. I want to know what I’m in the middle of here.
“Dean kept him out of the worst of it,” Ben admits. “Made sure he stayed in school. Nobody would have known he slept in abandoned buildings or under bridges with the way Dean would keep him clean and well turned out every day. He was one of us, just not in the same way. Then Trevainne happened, and Dean became Dax, and we lost him to this…” I catch the shadow and movement of Ben’s arm swirling out to his side.
They lost him? It’s similar to what I overheard Frank say. “That’s what Frank was talking about?”
“Yeah. But Frank’s wrong too. He’s a grifter; always was, always will be. He likes the money and security that this place offers, but he’ll always be looking for the next big deal.”
Though his explanations lack serious detail, one thing is glaringly obvious. “You don’t trust him,” I state.
“At this point, I don’t know who to trust,” Ben admits sullenly.
“Not even Tom?”
He hauls in a breath and releases another tired sigh. “No. Not even Tom.”
A silence drapes between us that only seems to emphasise the darkness. Standing here, my eyes have adjusted to the dark, but there’s still nothing to see but shadows blanketing shadows. There are slits of light further down the hallway; streaks so thin and fine, your eye is tricked into wondering if they are there at all. Reflections? Tunnels? Exits? Who knows.
