Horror grabbed me by the throat, making breathing difficult.
Oh god, he was gone.
Gone.
I averted my gaze, unable to look at the body on the floor mere feet from me. My insides iced over.
No. This had to be some terrible nightmare.
“Get up,” Thorin growled. “We’re getting out of here.”
My mind blurred, barely registering his demand. Rough hands grabbed me instead, tugging me up, and one of the guys inblack yanked at my pocket. I felt out of body, numb, as if I didn’t belong in it anymore but instead stared down on all this happening to someone else.
“Boss, he has his phone on,” the guy said.
“Break it. By the time whoever he called gets here, we’ll be long gone.” Thorin stood in front of me, and my body rioted at his proximity. The stench of his cologne, his oppressive aura, the gun dangling in his hand.
The gun that shot my father. The man who shot my father.
A crunch sounded beside me, and bile rose in my throat again. Any chance of Amelia finding me now was dashed. Numbness settled over me like a blanket. I should be resisting, should be trying to push or shove or run away. Yet Thorin Glass had just murdered my father in cold blood. Hadn’t even blinked or shown any remorse.
My father was dead.
He was dead.
I’d left Cillian to try to save him, and it turned out there had been nothing to save after all.
He’d sold me out, and for what, I didn’t even know. And even after all that, he hadn’t survived.
My fingers were numb, same as my feet. Hands yanked me away from my father’s body, away from his apartment, and I didn’t even fight back. I swallowed the golf ball in my throat, trying not to break down. Static hummed in my mind. I couldn’t process what had just happened or I’d scream and scream and scream. My whole body trembled as the soles of my shoes scraped against the asphalt.
If only I’d pushed my father a little more for answers of why he’d gotten in trouble in the first place.
If only I’d asked Cillian what my father had done.
If only I had stayed at the Spires.
“Get him in,” Thorin commanded. The guys bracketing me on either side managed to shove me over to an open car door. I teetered to the side, but they hopped in with me, an uncomfortable fit in the back. The guards kept their grip tight on my arms, but my body felt like it had iced over, too numb. One or both of them reeked of sweat and cigarettes, and bile rose in my throat. Thorin stepped into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Once we left here, no one would find me.
No one would save me.
My father had been my one connection to the outside world, and he’d sold me out.
Fuck. Anguish bloomed in my chest all over again.
“What did you have on him?” I croaked out.
Thorin’s gaze was locked forward on the road as he coasted down one street after another. “Did you not even ask what he did to run afoul of Cillian? I’m shocked your lover never told you.”
I swallowed hard. He tried, and then I’d asked not to know. I’d willfully remained blind, a choice I had already come to regret.
The vision of my father splattered across the floor flashed in my mind, and my throat burned. I choked back the spew, the acidity coating my mouth.
Thorin let out a bark of a laugh. “Your father decided to negotiate a bad deal on behalf of his company…with Cillian. Your father made an offer for Jove Enterprises to handle assets for the Spires, one the company hadn’t authorized. The plan had clearly been to weasel his way in, convince his company to follow through, and then skim from the top. However, Jove Enterprises wouldn’t play ball, and when the lawyers at the Spires scrutinized the final contracts, they caught onto your father’s plan. Cillian doesn’t look fondly on those who go back on their word, and so your father was going to be held accountable.”
Until I had stepped in. Fuck. My stomach spasmed, but there wasn’t anything to puke up. I thought he’d had a gamblingproblem, as it had come up before in the past, something that could be fixed.
Not that he’d sold his morals.
