“It is. At least, once you get into the depths of the organization. Day to day, most of the work done is good, genuine service, but the moment you dig into who holds the power…” Petra dragged the heavy trunk closer, a deep frown curving her lips. “Max knew that. I’m pretty sure that’s why he joined in the first place.”
“Must have felt familiar.”
“It did. For me, at least.” Flipping the gold latch on the trunk, she popped open the lid and was only a little surprised to see an odd assortment of ancient-looking files and gold bars inside.No wonder this one felt heavier than the others.
She curled her lip in disgust. Petra was born into the criminal world, so she knew how stupid it was to have something like this carted with him everywhere he went. But Antonin was no better than a common criminal kingpin, and they tended to get dumber the more powerful they became. Arrogant, too.
No criminal who actually cared about being caught would keep their safety net with them in the form of gold bars. Not only was it insecure, but it was also flashy. Abnormal. One look inside the trunk and any average person would think,“Huh, I thought only gangsters had stuff like this.”
She didn’t doubt that he had untold wealth squirreled away, but the fact that he kept some with him likethatsaid an enormous amount about his ego.And also explains why he was so put out by my lack of jewelry, I guess.
“What I don’t get, though, is what scared Max so badly,” she continued. “Not even knowing that Antonin had all ofthiswould have made him blink. Max ran his own organization. He knows—knewthe score. So for him to risk confronting Antonin, a man he knew was a threat for decades… There had to be something else.”
“Maybe he killed someone Max cared about?”
“Maybe.” But Petra hadn’t heard anything about a disappearance prior to Max’s death, and while he was an outwardly charismatic man, his only real connection was the one they’d shared. Things had been a little strained between them since Max unexpectedly took the position at St. Emaine’s and left her behind, though, so there were almost certainly things she’d missed. She wanted to believe that if he’d had a partner, he would have told her, but there was clearly a lot he’d never seen fit to tell her. What was one more secret?
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
The familiar ache of grief tightened her chest. “I don’t know for sure how close it was to his death, but my guess is just before he confronted Antonin. Maybe hours. I don’t know.”
Silas’s palm smoothed over the nape of her neck and settled there, heavy and warm. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing helpful. He was panicked and refused to tell me any details. Only that something was really wrong and—” Petra shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory of that final, awful phone call.
“And what, baby?”
“And he told me to leave the Temple.”
Silas’s grip tightened. Urging her to turn her head with a press of his thumb, he asked, “Why didn’t you? You had the money to go off and live a good life. Why’d you stay when he told you to go?”
He looked like he was bracing for some sanctimonious answer, but that wasn’t what Petra gave him. “I was angry,” she answered, shrugging stiffly. “I’d been angry at him for years. Ever since he left and didn’t take me with him. And then he calls and says I need to go? That the life I’d built meant nothing and I was supposed to just drop everything when he wouldn’t explain what was going on? I was so damn angry, Silas. Scared and confused and concerned for him andpissed off.”
He tilted his head to one side, examining her like he did sometimes — as if she was a squirming amoeba under a microscope. A week ago it would have unsettled her, but now she saw it for what it really was: Silas doing his damnedest to understand her.
“Do you regret it?”
“Being angry at him?”
He nodded.
“Yes and no. Yes, because I obviously wish I could have had the perfect last conversation with him. I wish I could have known what he was up against and begged him to runwithme.” She had to swallow hard before she could continue, but when she did, her voice came out harsh, full of all the hurt she’d kept to herself for so long. “But also no, because he left. I know it’s selfish to care so much about that when he felt he was on some moral mission, but it hurt me so badly that I don’t give a shit. After everything, he left me all over again.”
And then the bastard up and died.That was the permanent sort of leaving that made her want to howl with rage at the injustice of it all.
She loved her uncle with every ounce of her soul, but that didn’t mean she forgave him. The first time he abandoned her, she understood it. He assumed she’d be taken care of by her parents. He didn’t know what would happen. He was grieving and lost and searching for peace. She understood that unique sort of desperation better than anyone.
But the second time? No, there was no forgiveness for that. Not when she never would have done the same to him. Not when she wasstillfighting for him even after everything, and not when she finally understood what it was like to have someone who would never, ever leave her.
Silas’s thumb curved over her jaw to brush her bottom lip. Something dark and full of promise glowed in his lambent eyes. “Good girl.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“Eat.”
Petra looked up from the trunk in time to see Silas place a loaded plate beside her thigh. A can of soda, icy cold and dripping with condensation, landed beside it. Her stomach lurched in that pleasant-awful way it did whenever Silas did something sweet. He was so gruff about. So uncertain. It was like he was trying on a new outfit and trying to cover up how self-conscious he was by being stand-offish and hoping no one noticed.
Adorable.
