Aiden’s coming to pick you up. Don’t leave Tom’s room. Don’t trust anyone but Aiden.
Got it.
“I presume they’re on their way?” Tom asks with a sigh.
“Something like that.”
I stare at Tom until he grows uncomfortable and begins to fuss with his blankets. Only when I’ve formulated my question, do I open my mouth to ask it.
“Tom?” His head flicks up, his green eyes landing directly on mine. “Are you going to sell me out?”
The question takes him by surprise. His mouth pinches while he goes over what I’ve said again in his mind. I see the moment he realises what I’m really asking; his eyes widen, and there is a split-second emotion close to sympathy shining there. He composes himself—jaw firm, eyes firmer—before answering.
“No, Jules, never. You saved my life. I owe you.” He’s trying hard to mean what he is saying, but I’m not sure who he is trying to convince more, me or him?
“The doctors saved your life. You don’t know me from the next stranger. You were up to something that night at Olive Tower and were taking matters into your own hands, getting shot for the trouble. You haven’t said who shot you. You haven’t said why you were there. You’re protecting someone else, and I can’t help but wonder if owing me is actually a conflict of interest? You can’t say you’re looking out for me and protect the person who put us both in the shit at the same time. You get that, right?”
“I…I don’t remember who…I didn’t see the person.” His eyes flick away. Lips tighten. Lie. That was the first outright lie he’s told me since meeting him.
“I don’t believe you. You remembered me well enough, recalling our conversation that night. You also pretended to be asleep or unconscious when we visited you after recovery from surgery; don’tthink I missed that little nugget. You are avoiding something or protecting something or someone.”
“I guess you think you have me all figured out?”
“No. Not at all. I’m trying to figure out if I’m eventually going to become collateral damage in whatever game you are playing.”
“It’s not a game.”
“Fine. In whatever war you’re fighting. Game or war, in the end the result is the same for me.”
“I never intended for you or anyone outside to get wrapped up in this.”
“Few people intend to get shot either. Shit happens. I need to know if being around you or associating with you is safe.” I hear my words out loud and scoff. “Forget it. I already know the answer.”
“I can keep you safe. I can keep you out of this,” he argues. His desperation suggests he believes it too. I don’t think Tom realises how much trouble he’s caused. He’s delusional if he thinks he can erase what is already done.
“They think I know what was in that envelope.” I drop the truth like a bomb and watch it detonate in his eyes. The panic. The fear. The resignation.
“Fuck!”
“Dax has it now, but they think I know what’s in it,” I continue, so he gets a clue of just how fucked I am.
“I’ll get the word out that you don’t. I’ll clear it.” Delusional for sure unless he’s really in league with Franz?
“With whom? How? Are they even going to believe you when Dax has a contingent of guards following me around?” As I say it, a thought occurs to me. “That makes me seem pretty important, right?” I ask, but I’m talking to myself now. I’m realising just what my actions might look like to someone on the outside. “Then I get a HU education out of it. Me, a nobody from the Vale. I’m fairly sure no one will believe a word anyone says to defend me when it looks like I’m blackmailing Dax.”
Fuck, I’ve made myself look guilty. I’ve secured the target to my back.Damn, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
“What I don’t understand is why they took Sylvie,” Tom mumbles.
“Might they have thought she was me?”
“No, everyone knows who Sylvie Trevainne is. As heiress to the Trevainne fortune she gets her face in the headlines, even when Dax tries to keep her out of the public eye.” Tom runs a hand through his now dishevelled hair, like he’s been pulling at it, and I just haven’t noticed. He’s clearly worried.
“They also had a description of me when they came looking at the bakery,” I admit only to catch Tom’s brow raise in question. “Long story.”
“Part of that escaping capture thing you hinted at?”
“Yeah.”
