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“Shit.” I didn’t realize there were photographs. But fuck, he kept physical files?
This isn’t how she should have found out. Her father is a monster, yes. So was mine, in a different way.
So am I, for the things I’ve done.
Her uncle, like my father, was a collector of information. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. No man can hold so much power and have his hands remain perfectly clean. It’s impossible.
The Augustine family has lived in Avarice for a while, but we’re not founding families like the De Léon or Donovan families—and certainly not in the same class. We only grew our wealth to where it is now with my father at the helm. Before that, the Augustines served the De Léons of this world.
My aunt had the misfortune of catching Marnix De Léon’s eye—Marnix De Léon, and his friends. They, much like the Commander, don’t take kindly to the word no, and back then, there wasn’t a whole lot a lowly Augustine could do against a legion of De Léons.
But we Augustines have long memories, and we are a patient lot. We wait. We keep watch. Because in time, everyone trips up. Each of those men have been dealt with, but at the helm of that ship was Marnix De Léon. He took a little longer to stumble, but stumble he did. Now, because of that, because of him, we own their world—a world that does not belong to us, one that we took from them. Just like they took what did not belong to them from my father’s sister.
But saying that everything we’ve done was to avenge my aunt is a generous way to look at things. It casts us in a noble light. Almost. I’m not sure an Augustine can ever be truly noble.
I sometimes wonder what my father’s plan was. Was it to wipe out Avarice altogether? To erase the elite of the town? What it’s become is something else. Intentions and motivations get confused over time, morph into obsession. And obsession is a whole other animal.
What is my plan, my goal? Now that my father is gone and Marnix De Léon has been punished, those men have been punished, what do I want? What happens after the vengeance?
I study Madelena, take in her dark, somber beauty, her fragility. I am not obsessed with Avarice or its people. I don’t care about their existence or their destruction. My obsession is wholly different.
“You shouldn’t have found out those details,” I tell her.
“I wish you’d told me.”
“No, you don’t. There are some things better left alone.”
She looks up at me. “You were right about him.”
“It doesn’t make a difference, Madelena. Your time with him, your memories of him, they’re separate things. They’re clean.”
“How is that?”
I go to her, take her hands. “Jax Donovan, at least in the short time I knew him, wasn’t a wicked man. He was ruthless when it came to his enemies. Anyone in his position would have to be. And he protected those he loved fiercely, as best as he could.”
She pulls her hands out of mine and rubs her face, her eyes, oblivious or uncaring about the smeared liner.
“Lie down, sweetheart.”
She does, and I lean down to kiss her forehead, her mouth. She touches my cheek, prolonging our kiss. When I draw back, I brush a strand of dark hair from her face and look at her.
Her uncle kept her safe. He protected her from the darkness of his world, kept her separate from it. Have I done half as much?
I take her hand, turn it over to look at the scar on her palm.
The mark I put there.
I trace it.
She turns her hand around to hold mine, and I meet her eyes.
As Avarice and the destruction of it and its people were the obsession of my father, so is Madelena my obsession. There is a weight deep in my gut at the thought of her, the sight of her. I will ensure she survives this, survives my family. Me.
But even so, her innocence is gone, stolen by monsters. I will keep her safe now, but the damage done before me I cannot erase. In a way, it was her destiny for the simple fact that she was born to Marnix De Léon. I am a part of that destiny, our combined fates sealed. For better or worse. Until death do us part.
“I want to be alone for a little bit,” she says. I open my mouth to protest but she puts a finger to my lips. “I’m tired.”
Reluctantly, I nod and she closes her eyes. I watch a tear slide down over her temple and it takes all I have to turn and walk out of the bedroom and not climb into that bed to hold her, to wipe away her tears and battle her demons.
