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She nods and gets to work while I sit, unmoving. She hands me the cup, and I grasp it, grateful to have something to do with my hands. She wheels the cart to the side and leaves.
We are alone again.
“Tell me, Wryn, do you love him?”
I stare at my coffee. “I barely know him.”
“And yet you are willing to come here and bargain for his return. That’s either love or maybe lust. You must think he loves you?”
“I don’t,” I say quietly, shaking my head.
“Good,” he says, sipping his coffee. “Love is foolish.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see what this has to do with you helping me,” I say, shocked by my boldness. My head is muddled and confused by all the talk of love. That’s not what this is.
“I want to know what you get from this.”
“He promised to help me with something,” I say.
“I see. And what would you have me do?”
This is the hard part. I don’t know enough about this world to even make a suggestion. I know Viktor can help—he can change the whole outcome—but it’s up to me to convince him.
“I-I don’t know. I thought maybe you could throw your weight around, make them release him.”
Real convincing, Wryn.
“They aren’t under my control, Wryn. I wish I could help you, but I’m afraid I can’t. Connor will have to solve this problem himself.”
I swear I see Viktor grin into his coffee cup. My anger flares at his blatant disregard for his grandson, for a human life. Maybe he’s killed so many people that he’s desensitized. He views us as bags of flesh and bones instead of souls. I take a sip of my own coffee in an effort to calm down, to stop whatever brash words I am thinking from coming out of my mouth.
“Out of curiosity, what problem is Connor helping you with now that you solved one of his?”
I frown in confusion. “What problem did I solve for him?”
“You killed his father.”
I would be shocked he knew, but since he told me he did the last time I was here, I only feel strange. Not guilt, but maybe remorse that I have to live with the knowledge that I’m a killer for the rest of my life.
“How do you know that?” I ask. It’s a question that has plagued me along with the desire to understand how he figured it out.
“I have eyes everywhere, dear.” He leans forward, setting his empty cup down. Mine is still mostly full.
I figure honesty is the best policy in this situation.
“He is helping me track down a friend that we think his father took,” I say.
Viktor’s eyes light up at my confession, but he doesn’t say anything. He studies me, and I feel like an organism under a microscope that he’s trying to figure out.
“We don’t have proof—or at least none that he’s told me about. But his father was involved—I know it.” I shut my mouth, letting the room fall into silence.
“I’ve changed my mind, Wryn.”
“You have?” My damn voice wavers, and I clear my throat.
“I’m going to help you.”
“You are?” Hope blooms in my chest, and my hands shake slightly, leaving a wet trail of coffee on the lap of my dress. “Oh,” I say, trying to blot it before it drips on the couch or carpet.
