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Could Ridley’s alpha have been correct after all? Could Father be in the first stages of blood madness? Because why else would he have staked Tomas?
He didn’t stake Rafe, pointed out a small, insistent voice.
But was that proof he didn’t intend to? Maybe he hadn’t wanted witnesses. Zoe had been there, for instance, and probably a couple of bodyguards.
Ridley shifted under my gaze but didn’t speak. She’d withdrawn into her detached, I’m-an-emotionless-badass shell, and it was my fault. I’d been cool to her all day, and at the Garnet I’d been a downright prick.
Still, I didn’t apologize. Maybe a little distance was a good thing. We’d gotten too cozy, and it was affecting my ability to think clearly where she was concerned.
“I have to contact Gabriel and Rafe,” I said. “Tell them about Father…”
“Tell them what? That your father is trying to kill you all? That he’s in the first stage of blood madness?” She shook her head. “They’ll think you’re the crazy one. Or that Moreau brainwashed you into believing it.”
“Maybe.” I massaged the bridge of my nose. I was so damn tired, and not just physically. My brain was exhausted, my ability to reason pretty much nil. “But I have to do something. At least if I warn them, they’ll be on their guard.”
“Can you trust them not to go straight to Karoly?”
I scowled. “Of course.”
“Are you sure? Even if they honestly believe you’ve been brainwashed?”
I swallowed. Hating her a little for making me doubt my own brothers. I looked down at my hands on my thighs. Spread the fingers apart and relaxed them again.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“If they go to your father with this story, he’ll be forced to act. He’s been holding back for some reason. Maybe he’s trying to get to you first, I don’t know. But he knows where your brothers are. Are you willing to risk that?”
“So what am I supposed to do? Say nothing and let them die?”
She zeroed in on that. “So you do believe he’s a danger to you and your brothers.”
“Yes. No.” I was on my feet again. “I don’t know, all right? I don’t fucking know.”
“Zaq.” She leaned forward, her expression intent. At least she was showing some emotion, even if only to argue with me. “You have to face facts.”
“What facts? I’ve been running around New York for over a week and I don’t know jack shit.”
“I think you do know. You just don’t want to believe your own father wants you dead.”
“And you don’t want to believe that maybe someone else set things up so that it looks like he wants us dead. You don’t know my father—you know the Kral Primus. He’s a cold S.O.B. but he does have a heart. Like with me—I used to take in hurt animals, you know?”
“No. I didn’t know.”
“It’s true. Birds with broken wings. Three-legged cats. I even had a blind dog that adopted Father as its alpha—and he let it.” I huffed a laugh. “He let that damn dog live out its life on the rug in front of the fireplace in his library in Maryland, and he built a big shed on our property for me to care for the other animals. And I know he wondered if I was too weak. Tomas did—he told me so straight to my face. But Father told Tomas to let me be, that what I wanted to do in my free time was my own business. And later, Father wanted me to become a made man like my brothers—and yeah, he pressured me pretty hard. But when he saw I really meant it, he backed off.”
“Okay.” Ridley raised her hands in surrender. Humoring me, and we both knew it. “So your father doesn’t want you dead. Someone in your syndicate does, though. Whoever’s been feeding intel to SI.”
I picked up the wine, unscrewed the lid and offered it to Ridley. She drank and handed the bottle back to me. I took a long slug and put the bottle back on the table.
“If only I knew what really went down in that restaurant,” I said. “Why the fuck did Father stake Tomas? Unless—”
“What?”
“What if Tomas was the traitor?” I sat on the mattress again and rubbed my forehead. It fit. “He knows—he knew everything my father did. He would know the plane I took to Paris. He knew all our movements—me, Gabriel, Rafe. My dad trusted him like a brother.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s a possibility,” she conceded. “I suppose he could’ve been the one feeding us intel.”
“Fuck.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “I’d have said he’d cut off his own hand before betraying my father.”
