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“You might have a concussion. You need to rest.”
When he releases me, I grip his sweater to stop him from walking away. “Please. Please. He’s all I have.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing, Madelena,” he starts, closing his hands over mine. “He’s not all you have. You have me. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get that through your thick skull, but you have me. You have for the last five years. You just need to trust me.”
Tears stream down my face, and I curl my fingers into his sweater. He shakes his head, drags my hands off but holds onto them. His expression softens, and I hear those words he just said repeat.
Trust him.
But how can I trust him?
“Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do what you want. Anything you want!”
“Tell me something then. Give me something like I gave you something. Answer my question. Why did you go to the lighthouse? Why there?”
I drop back onto my heels, feeling miserable—because that’s the one question I can’t answer. Saying it out loud would make it too real. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Don’t hurt him. Please,” I plead.
“Tell me the truth, and I won’t hurt him.”
“You’re going to blackmail me?” I ask through tears.
“Tell me, Madelena. Say it.”
I push my hand into my hair, shake my head. I can’t. Doesn’t he know that?
With a sigh, Santos turns to go.
“Thiago said something,” I blurt out, stumbling to get out of the bed but getting caught in the heavy duvet. “He said something before the other man came out onto the catwalk.” He stops. I hurry to get the words out, to give him something. “He said he wasn’t my enemy. That my enemy is closer to home and that the blood of a monster runs in his veins.”
Santos goes rigid.
“I don’t know who he was talking about,” I add, going to him. I stand directly in front of him and put my hands on his shoulders to look at his face, which has gone stone-still. “I will learn to trust you. This is me trying. But if you hurt Odin, anything between us is gone. That’s a given, Santos.”
He draws a tight breath in and nods, but I don’t know what he’s nodding about. He draws my hands away and releases me. Without a word, he turns and walks away, out of the room, not caring that I chase after him, not hearing my pleas. Nothing.
He only stops for a moment to tell the guard outside my door that under no circumstances am I to leave the room.
3
SANTOS
Iknow why she went out there, but I want to hear her say it. Maybe if she does, and we share this dark secret, just maybe she can start trusting me.
But that’s not what’s on my mind as I make my way down the dimly lit hallway of the mansion my father purchased five years ago. It was a defining moment for him, the physical manifestation of how far we Augustines had come.
At the time, it was a run-down, forgotten place. It had been abandoned by the last family who lived here when they ran out of money and left it to rot back into the earth. My father had put his heart and soul into rebuilding it. I take my time as I near the grand staircase that will lead to the main floor and pause once I’m there. I look at the walls surrounding me, the paintings, the stained-glass windows. I love this house. I have since day one. Caius and my mother have always made their preference for something more modern clear. I wonder if now is the time for them to move to the luxury apartments of Augustine’s, for me to move back home with my wife.
My eventual family.
I shake my head. Where the fuck did that thought come from? I have about a thousand and one problems to solve before I start thinking about a family.
Reaching into my pocket, I dig out my phone and scroll to a number I haven’t called in forever. My breathing grows tight when I hit the green button to make the call. It takes a moment to connect then goes directly to voicemail. There is no greeting. There never has been. Just a beep to leave a message.
I don’t.
