As I’m about to stand and go and talk to the mirrored glass to ask just that thing, the door opens, and in walks Roman Rook.
I don’t know what I was expecting, an orange jumpsuit, a blue one. Hell, anything other than him walking in wearing jeans and a hoodie.
It’s not like Roman to be in anything other than a suit, so seeing him so casual is still a shock. His hair is longer, he’s sporting a slight bruise along his left cheekbone, but he’s still the intelligent and ruthless man that Luca Knight has had at his side since childhood.
As soon as his eyes drop to me and Henry who both sit behind a table, he pauses.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The guard pushes him forward. “Move it.” His voice is gruff as he escorts him to the chair opposite us.
Roman sits down, holding up his handcuffed hands to be chained to the table.
The guard checks the chain, the sound of metal clinking against the aluminium table. Once content, he leaves, and Roman sits back and crosses his arms.
“Is it true?” Henry asks, getting straight to the point. “She’s alive?”
Roman doesn’t say anything. He looks between us, assessing, like he always does.
“You’ve fucked up the hard drive,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Why else would you be here?”
“I asked you a question,” Henry says through gritted teeth.
“And you think I’d tell you?” Roman snaps. “You’re the reason she was almost killed in the first place.”
“Fuck off!” Henry spits, his fist tensing into a ball before he smacks the table with it, the thud loud in the suffocating silence.
What the fuck am I witnessing here? I watch the pair of them, muscles flexing, breathing heavy, testosterone thick in the air along with a whole heap of animosity and anger.
“You know that’s bullshit. She was as stubborn as you. She knew what she was walking into, and you should have protected her.”
“From you?” Roman snaps.
“From our world, you piece of shit. Blood pays with blood. You knew the rules and risks, but still, you let her get involved. And you now, what? Want to blame me? I was there, Roman; I held her in my arms whilst she bled the fuck out. And now Kara tells me she’s alive, and you betrayed us all?”
Roman doesn’t say anything. Instead, his face flashes with sadness as he looks down at his handcuffed hands, pulling against the chains.
Silence stretches between the pair of them, the tension rolling off Henry in thick, suffocating waves.
“She’s alive,” Roman finally says, looking up and meeting Henry’s eyes. I am but a bystander, watching years of pain tumble out.
Henry sags into his chair, his head going into his hands and huffs out a breath, elbows on the table. He runs his hands down his face and looks up at Roman with such pain and anguish in his expression that a pang of sadness cracks through me.
“You’ve seen the evidence?” Henry asks, his voice cracking before he clears his throat.
“I have.”
“What was it?”
“To begin with pictures, then a video call. John, he would show me the evidence weekly to keep me onside.” Roman stares at Henry, shaking his head. “What was I supposed to do, man?”
“You should have come to us! Come to me!”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Roman says. “What the fuck use is hindsight now? Any hope I had went as soon as Luca set me up.”
“It’s the least you deserved. You’re lucky you didn’t get a bullet in your forehead,” I say.
“I’d have preferred it,” Roman says. “You think I betrayed them because I had a choice—”
