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“Who are you?”
He didn’t answer, just limped to the chair. Morana turned to Tristan, eyes alert, and found him frowning at the man as well, his gun still up.
“I saw you,” Tristan spoke, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “You were there. A few years ago at-” He stopped.
The man chuckled, collapsing into the chair with a groan. “Do go on.”
Morana looked between them, confused. The cool draft in the warehouse raised goosebumps on her arms.
The man smiled, his hazel eyes alight with humor. “He’s talking about your graduation, Morana. He was there. That’s where he saw me.”
Surprise flooded her as she looked at Tristan, to find him staring straight at the man.
“Why were you there?” Morana asked the older man.
“To see you,” the man went rubbed his knee with his right hand, the silver skull ring glinting on his finger, a replica of the one she’d seen on Lorenzo Maroni’s hand.
“Are you Outfit?” she asked him, pointing to his hand.
The man twisted the ring and gazed up at her, something akin to reverence in his eyes. “I was once, a long time ago.”
Morana slowly lowered her gun to the side, her heart bursting. “Are you the Reaper?”
The man smiled, the lines on his cheeks creasing in a way that wasn’t bad. His hair, a shock of salt and pepper, was shabby. “I am the Reaper.”
“Why did you call me here? Why not talk to me at the hotel?” she asked him, taking a step closer to where he was seated. She felt Tristan move behind her.
“Because I had to meet you,” he told her. “Someplace we can talk alone.” He gave a pointed look to her lover. “Please put your gun down. I’m not going to harm either of you.”
For some odd reason, Morana believed him. Lowering her gun completely to the side, Morana perched down on a wooden box in front of the man and considered him steadily. “I have questions that I feel only you have the answers to.”
She felt Tristan come to stand behind her silently, present but letting her lead.
“Let me tell you a story first,” the man began, clearing his throat to get his voice working. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”
Morana nodded.
“About twenty-three years ago, I was a soldier of the Outfit and a happily married man,” he started, his brown eyes flecked with green on her. “It was a rarity, believe it or not. My wife, she didn’t know much about this business or what I did.”
He took a deep breath, twisting the ring on his finger. “This ring was a gift from Loren
zo. It was only for the three members of the Alliance – Lorenzo, Gabriel, and I. While they were the leaders of both the families, I was the one who collected all the data on businesses and operations. I had all the information about the enemies. I dealt in secrets and that made my friends powerful people.”
“I know that,” Morana nodded, interested in finally getting some answers.
He tilted his head to the side, blinking at her. “Of course,” he shook his head. “Everything was going well. I was happy. My wife was pregnant with our second child. That’s when I stumbled upon a secret one of my friends had hidden.”
Morana leaned forward, intrigued.
“Lorenzo had become a member of a global Syndicate,” the man told her quietly. “The Syndicate traded in children.”
Her throat tightened as she turned to look at the man behind her. “You don’t have to be here.”
Tristan looked down at her, the hunger for answers in his blue eyes matching hers, and prompted the man to go on. “The missing children.”
Morana put her hand on his thigh and turned back around to the older man, finding him watching both of them with something close to contentment in his eyes. He shook it off, focusing on the story.
“The children were taken from different cities at too young an age, and groomed to become slaves, those that survived anyway. Many died.”
