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I patted the bed, signaling for him to sit down so I could attend to the long gash running from his shoulder to his left pectoral. I disinfect his wounds in silence, both of us not saying a word. When I leaned forward, I glanced up and met Alexander’s eyes. He didn’t look away, and neither did I. My insides rolled in discomfort at how cold and empty his eyes were. There was no life in his eyes, as if all the battles he’d been involved in zapped all energy out of them. Looking into his steely, gray orbs was like looking into the eyes of a cold, ruthless killer.
I reached out, placed my palm on his face, and cradled his cheeks. My mind rewound to the night when he confessed his love for me. Judging by the flicker of emotion flitted through his eyes, I guessed it was the same for him.
“Alexander...I...” I trailed off, trying to force myself to say those three words.
“It's fine.:” Alexander cut me off. “I was never expecting an answer.”
He stood up and pulled on a clean set of clothes. This was not what I wanted. I didn’t want him to leave, but I couldn’t tell him not to go with me. I felt like I was causing him too much pain, and the only way to solve it was to figure myself out first before trying to solve the relationship between us.
“Aryana.” He called my name when he got to the door. He no longer called me his treasure. Since I couldn’t return those three words to him that night, he never called me his treasure again. Had I truly fucked things up?
“Thank you.” He lifted the corner of his lips in a tiny smile.
I forced myself to return the gesture before he left the room. Though it was tiny and nothing like I had received when it was still the two of us together in the house, it was a smile regardless, something I hadn’t seen or been receiving since we came here.
The silence continued between us as Alexander continued to endanger himself to eliminate
the Saconne family, although it was not as cold as it had been. It ended when he came into the study, back from another battle with a frown on his face. Behind him were Tony and Marcelo, with matching expressions on their faces.
I had been reading a novel when they came in, but I quickly put it aside when I saw how grim and angry they looked.
“What happened? Did Felice escape?” I asked, knowing Alexander had planned to kill Felice in this skirmish. I couldn’t even find it within myself to be appalled at how easily I had spoken of another man’s death without a care in the world.
“No. Alexander killed him with a bullet to the head. It wasbellissimo!” I cracked a smile when Marcelo flashed me a wink. “The war is gradually turning in our favor.”
That was good news. The expressions on their faces said otherwise.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There was something the bastard said before Alessandro killed him.
I frowned. What could he have said that would cause this reaction?
“Well, what did he say?”
It was Alexander that answered me this time. He faced me with a solemn look.
“There’s a traitor in our midst.”
Chapter 28
Alexander
Why? I couldn’t believe it. I almost hadn’t wanted to believe it when Felice had taunted the knowledge in my face while kneeling on my feet moments before his death. Seeing my enemy at my feet greatly irritated me, laughing like a mad person instead of cowering and begging like I had wanted him to.
Nonetheless, the information struck me like a bolt of lightning. A traitor in our midst had supplied the Saconnes with information about our trade routes so they would know where to hit. The traitor was also responsible for reporting my father’s location. Because of him, my father died. I was filled with rage. We had welcomed that traitor into our midst and had treated him like our family, and he repaid us like this?
What pained me the most was who the most likely suspect could be. Marcelo and Tony had discussed this when I told them. We went over different possibilities and clues we could have missed.
For the traitor to be reporting my father’s whereabouts meant he was high up in the ranks, as not everyone knew the places he went to.
“Didn’t you catch a traitor before?” Aryana asked. She was referring to when we thought it was my father’s driver.
Looking at all the facts now, it looked like the driver had been framed. I wanted to punch something.
“Do you have any idea who it could be?” She asked again.
“We do,” Marcelo answered. “But we’re not sure.”
