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“Have I harmed you after our oath? Have I caused you violence?”
I don’t answer.
“I will protect you. I’ve told you that.”
“It’s not enough.”
He studies me, face growing grave. He gets up, then walks around the room. He turns back to study me, one hand on the back of his neck, the other in his pocket. “You want something? Okay.” He returns to sit on the edge of the bed. “You once asked me what it was we had on your father that made him give you up so easily.”
A weight settles deep in my belly.
“Do you still want to know that?”
I feel the blood drain from my face as my heart stops beating. I shiver with a sudden chill and nod. Because even though I know I will hate this answer, I can’t back out now. I can’t not know.
“Your father put a hit on Jax Donovan.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “That’s absurd.”
“Your uncle was blackmailing your father. He was going to remove your father from the business.”
“Blackmailing? About what?”
“Jax had physical proof of something your father had done years ago that your father had thought he’d erased.”
I’m struck mute, shocked for the second time in the span of a few minutes. “Uncle Jax wouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You don’t know the world you come from.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Ignoring my comment, he continues. “Your father took action.”
My brain is struggling to keep up, to make sense of it all. “Took action by hiring someone to kill him? He wouldn’t do that any more than Uncle Jax would blackmail him or anyone.”
“He did. I can let you listen to the phone call if you like.”
“What? I don’t… How would you even have that?”
“I have it because he didn’t realize he’d contracted the hit with my father.”
My hands fly to my mouth. I know what Santos is. I know what the Augustine family is. Why is this still such a shock to hear?
“Not sure you wanted to know all that after all, are you? Truth can be a tricky thing, Madelena. There’s no going back from it. No unknowing it. Remember that.”
“But… No. No, it doesn’t make any sense. Uncle Jax… My father wouldn’t…”
He touches my face. “You’re very innocent, and I like that about you. But like I said, you don’t know the world you come from.”
“Were you there to do it then?” I ask, annoyed at his comment and slapping his hand away. “Is that why you’d gone to the house, but found someone had already done your work for you? Because that’s what you want me to believe, right?”
“There was no reason to kill your uncle. We had evidence that your father contracted a murder. We had what we needed to make him bend to our will. That’s all we wanted.”
“Why? Why this personal vendetta against my father?”
“That’s a whole other can of worms you don’t want to open,” he says, pausing. He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Or do you want me to tell you that, too?”
I lean away a little, my non-answer answer enough.
