Page 149 of Deadfall

Octavius frowned at the outburst. “I know you’re not familiar with this line of business but—”

“It was you,” I choked on the words.

Albatron held the black wolf mask in his hands.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t make sense of what was right in front of me. I felt Albatron’s gaze pierce into my soul.

“So you do remember,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t sure.”

“I said no,” the man repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “She is underaged.”

A few men chuckled and Octavius’ smirk was condescending. “Well, yes, that’s the point.”

The man’s jaw tightened in disgust. “Then I will not participate.”

“Everyone must—”

“Choose another,” he insisted. “I know for a fact Vetticus has brought several others that are of appropriate age.”

The room had gone quiet again. These two men were obviously the ones in charge if the power that simmered between them was any indication. The man in the wolf mask approached and pulled me from Octavius.

“Choose another,” he snarled quietly. “And do not pull this stunt again in my presence.”

The man in the black mask walked me all the way down the hall to the base of the stairs.

“Go straight to your bedroom. Lock the door.”

I stumbled up the stairs and only glanced over my shoulder once. The man in the wolf mask stood at the bottom, the glint of his eyes through the holes shone like obsidian in the dim light.

I didn’t look back again.

“You—you stopped him—” I gasped.

I met Albatron’s steely gaze, the only emotion was firm resolve and a deep, visceral rage as he relived the memory with me.

“You would have gone to Octavius after Vetticus was finished with you. When I saw you in the clearing, I knew what would have befallen you if that came to pass.”

“So you shot me?” I exclaimed incredulously. “Like some animal you were putting out of its misery?”

Albatron gave a smile devoid of humor. “Precicely.” His tone turned dark. “My brothers and I disagree on many things. One of them being the suffering of children.”

I let his words sink in. I let the reality of this man begin to form around everything I’d thought about him previously. I may not have completely believed some of the things he’d said, but I couldn’t deny his actions, and knowing what I knew now made me more inclined to think he spoke the truth.

“Why help me now? I’m no longer a child,” I said.

“And still what suffering you have endured,” Albatron whispered. “Regardless of age and time, it persists. Human suffering is the kind of hurt that lasts us to the grave, I think.”

He said the last part grimly, like he spoke to himself more than to me. He replaced the mask in the box. When he turned back, he was more composed.

“It’s time to go home, Emersyn.”

The crackle of the fire cut through the disturbing silence in the room. There was a heavy stillness—the kind that sat on a knife’s edge as it waited to tip one way or the other. A collective holding of breath as fate hovered in the shadows.

I stared at Albatron. The man who suddenly I had to acknowledge was more than what he seemed. The man who I might have to strike from my kill list because of everything I’d just learned. The thought was staggering. I wanted to rage at him. I wanted to argue. But, I also wanted to do the impossible and thank him.

I didn’t do any of those things though.

All I did was nod—because that part of what he said was true: It was time for me to go home.