One-thirty.
He's not into you, you lowlife fuck. If he was, he'd be here.
The next half hour crawls by. At last exhaustion overtakes me, and I collapse onto the bed. But my dreams are filled with Darian's voice echoing through the deserted hallways of Redwood, crying for help, and I can't find him—I can't find him?—
I startle awake, heart pounding at the sound of a soft click, and I bolt up in the bed, grabbing for my gun before I see it's Darian, closing the door behind him and leaning up against it, staring at me. There's a second where I feel euphoric—he came, he came after all—before I see that his eyes are wide open and his chest heaving.
I'm on my feet in an instant. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He struggles to speak, panic choking his voice. I stride over and grab his shoulders to ground him. "Breathe. Tell me what happened."
He gulps in air, clutching at my arms. "It's—he's—" But he just shakes his head, and then his knees buckle. I catch him before he hits the floor, cursing under my breath.
"Easy," I murmur, taking Darian over to sit on the bed. I sit beside him, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as he takes deep, shuddering breaths.
"Did someone hurt you? Try to…"
But Darian just shakes his head. "Out—out there—" He breaks off into shuddering breaths again.
"You're safe," I tell him, pulling him close. He clings to me, still trembling. "You're safe, D, but I want you to show me what's scared you. Can you do that?"
Darian nods against my chest. I help him to his feet, keeping an arm around his shoulders. It's early, very early, the kind of time that no one's up except the kitchen staff, and I hear nothing as Darian leads me down the corridor, around a corner, down another hallway.
We stop outside Tony Clemenza's room in silence.
"In there," Darian whispers at last.
Shit. This can't be good. I turn the handle and push the door open, walking a few feet into the room and letting my eyes adjust to the light.
For a moment I can only stare as my brain makes sense of the scene. There's a heavy, sweet stink in the air, something familiar, but something that Ican'tbe smelling, not here…not now…
It can't be blood.
"Sir?" I croak out.
But Tony Clemenza is long past hearing me. He lies sprawled on his bed with a fucking kitchen knife sticking out of his chest.
CHAPTER 16
RAFFI
I turn to Darian,whose gaze is fixed on the bed. "Don't look." Gripping his shoulders, I turn him, steer him from the room, kicking the door shut behind us. "You got a key?" As butler, Darian has a skeleton key that opens and locks most doors in the Manor. He sags against me, trembling anew as I take the jangling keys from his fingers and lock the door.
I lead Darian back to my room, thinking hard.
I'm angry, more than anything. Angry at Sandro, for allowing this stupid parley to happen in the first place. Angry at Clemenza for getting himself fucking murdered.
Angry at myself most of all. I knew this was coming, I couldfeelit coming, and I did nothing to stop it. Now the parley is in jeopardy, and it's my fault.
And someone in Redwood Manor is an oathbreaker—and a killer.
When we get back to my room, I pull Darian close, looking down into his chalk-white face. "Sit." I urge him into an armchair by the window. "I'll call Julian in a second."
Darian doesn't protest. Doesn't say a word.
Yes, I'll call Julian first, since he's closer; he and Leo are staying in their half-built dream house down near the redwood grove during the parley. Sandro is staying offsite in his usual place, wherever that is. I can't blame him. God knows I didn't want to be stuck here with a bunch of fucking Bernardis.
But Julian is closest and he likes Darian. He'll want to know about this before anyone else.
