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23
Santiago
Lawson Montgomery leans over the financial portfolio on my desk, studying it with the hawk-like eyes he is known for. He was the best man at my wedding, but Lawson is also an old friend and the one person within the New Orleans faction who I trust without question.
He is best known as Judge to those around him, given his elected position within the Louisiana court system. He is a valuable asset to IVI for obvious reasons, but he is also one of the rare few people I can speak freely with.
"Everything looks good." He shuts the folder and returns his laser focus to me. "How is newly wedded bliss treating you so far?"
The corner of my lip tilts up at his sarcasm. Judge surely has a dry sense of humor. "As well as can be expected."
"I trust your brand of justice will be swift and harsh."
When I don't respond, he arches an eyebrow at me. I pour us both a glass of scotch, allowing my gaze to drift to the ever-changing numbers on the monitors behind him for a moment.
"Is this your way of telling me you have not marked her yet?"
"She has been marked, as you well know." I swirl the glass beneath my nose, absorbing the smoky aroma of the drink.
"But not scarred," he finishes for me.
His observation unnerves me. I'm not in the habit of laying out my plans to others, but Judge is one of the harshest men I know. He has a reputation for being severe, both on the bench and within The Society. At least when the situation warrants it. He is a firm believer of the old adage of an eye for an eye. And when I was drunk one night and confessed my plans with Ivy to him, he was the who made the obvious suggestion.
What punishment could be worse for the family responsible for disfiguring me and murdering my blood? Scars, he said simply. Leave them with scars if you choose to leave them alive at all.
At the time, it seemed so simple and obvious. Of course, Ivy should have scars. Something to match my own. A permanent, unavoidable reminder of her father's sins every time she looks in the mirror.
For months, I had fantasized about all the ways I would do it. Burn her. Cut her. Etch my name into her throat. Perhaps even ink a skull onto the right side of her face to match my own. An image that would undoubtedly haunt her.
But now she is here, in my house, and I have not followed through with those plans. I am not any closer to finalizing the details, and I am not willing to admit that I hesitate to do so for reasons I don’t quite understand.
"She has a pretty face." Judge swirls the drink in his glass and takes a sip. "I suppose it would be a shame to ruin it."
Something in his tone and the quirk of his brow makes me think he is amused by my admitted weakness when it comes to her.
"It is only because she is beautiful that I have hesitated."
My words aren't convincing, even to me. But I am certain with time, I will be able to fulfill this silent promise to myself. When the moment is right, I will execute the plan as intended.
"Regardless of whether she is scarred yet, I can assure you, she will suffer."
"I'm sure she is already," he muses. "Of that, I have no doubt."
His words settle over us, and we finish off our drinks in silence. I need to ask something of him, which is a part of the purpose of our meeting this afternoon. Ideally, I should have asked him before the wedding, but I was busy dealing with Abel.
"Any news on her father?" he asks.
"No. Nothing new anyway. My men are still investigating, but there has been no new information. I have a meeting with the Tribunal to discuss the progress on the investigation at the beginning of the month."
Judge is quiet and thoughtful before he glances at me with an intensity that makes him a formidable opponent to weaker men than me. "And have you considered that there may never be more information? What then?"
"I have considered it." I shrug. "But I won't accept it."
"Well, that may be the case. But it is about as useful as a man telling Mother Nature he will not accept her storm."
Ignoring his obvious point is the only option I have at this stage. I can't accept that I may never truly have one hundred percent certainty or evidence of Eli's guilt. It is something I have considered from every angle. And I only know the obvious, what I feel deep in my gut. He is responsible, and I refuse to believe otherwise until there is undeniable proof.
