There were no words to describe the feeling that washed over me when I went back to Raphael and saw the cleanup crew outside his house.
Inside and outside.
We’d left eight guys here, and only one had lived to tell the tale. The guy who lived was in a coma, and there was a chance he wouldn’t make it.
I’d seen this before, several times, and I hated death. I hated it in every sense. Especially death like this. Mindless, useless killing to leave devastation.
While Claudius and the guys stayed with the crew, I went to find Raphael.
He was in his office sitting by the window.
In his leather chair, he faced the window, and I couldn’t see his expression. From the slump in his shoulders I knew the weight he must have carried.
Amelia was gone, more people had died, and surprise, surprise, the rat in the house had enabled this mess.
Who was the rat? Well, I had a wild hunch now.
It grieved me to think it. It grieved me deeply to think it because if I was right—and I strongly suspected I was—I’d handed my girl over to the traitor.
Millicent.
She was the only person who should have been here and wasn’t, and Victor didn’t mention taking her. He hadn’t said anything about taking her at all.
It still didn’t add up, but there were pieces of this nightmare that were starting to fit. Some of the things the other knew could only have been delivered to them by someone who was close with us. They knew specific things. Too specific to guess.
Claudius was right. The butler or the housekeeper.
Raphael turned when he sensed my presence. He looked at me with the desolation I felt.
I closed the door and walked over to him, leaning against the window ledge, so I could face him.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he held a picture of Amelia in his hands. It was of her dancing.
“They took my child, Luc. I…” He rubbed his hands over his face, smearing the tears.
“I know.” I hadn’t spoken since we left the Fontaines. My voice came out in a rasp, and my throat was dry. I didn’t know how I was even able to talk or give off this calm appearance I seemed to portray.
Truthfully, inside I was dying. I was dying, and I didn’t know what to do.
Amelia, my Amelia.
What would that fucking Victor do to her? What would he do to her to get back at me?
This was the very thing I’d vowed against just the other day.
I should have taken her and fled the country. It would have been better than this. Running and looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives if that’s what it took would have been better than this.
They took Gigi, and I didn’t even know if she was alive. Chances were, she wasn’t.
So, my first duty should have ben to protect Amelia at all cost.
It was funny how this had all started.
Money and power, that was what this was about. Money and power.
Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan, neither was finding out I was just a pawn in Raphael’s game.
A person to be used. And I didn’t even want the damn business anymore. I didn’t want it, and it was almost laughable… I didn’t want this life either.
