“You’re going to help me alone? Or do you mean the Feds?”What can one man do that my brothers can’t?
Tristan doesn’t answer me, his expression shuttering again.
“I promise you, you’re safe with me. Let me help you.”
Indecision wavers inside me, and snapshots of the last few months play in my mind. How Elias held me on his lap in the office and inhaled my scent like it was something he’d been chasing all his life. Then there’s the gentleness in his voice and eyes that whispered secrets on Thanksgiving and in front of Hollow Gardens. Like he too was carrying invisible pain, and he wanted to show me his scars but couldn’t.
He had never hurt me, had he?
Good God, Lana. This has to be Stockholm Syndrome.There’s no way I’m feeling any compassion for that man.
But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Tristan’s watching me too closely, and instead of pushing, he takes out his phone and swipes to a video.
“Let me show you something. This might change your mind.”
A feed with a time stamp from three days ago shows up. Elias was on his “trip.” Decked out in another three-piece suit, he stands tall in the middle of a fancy room, a lone spotlight shining on him. Men sit in the corners, but I can’t see their faces.
“Do you swear to uphold your oath and loyalty to The Association?” someone murmurs from off-camera, the voice muffled.
“I do,” he replies.
“Do you swear that The Association will come above all other priorities?”
“I do.”
“Do you know the repercussions if you betray The Association?”
Silence. A faint clicking. The glint of silver in his clenched hand—his lighter.
Elias clears his throat. “Extirpation. If I betray The Association, my bloodline will be exterminated. All relatives, blood or not. The entire family line.”
My veins turn to ice. The words echo in my mind:Extirpated. All relatives, blood or not. Entire family line.
I’m married to him. I’m his family now. My siblings, nieces, and nephews are all related to him by marriage.
If Elias betrays The Association, they all die.
No.I collapse back into my chair. My stomach heaves. I grip the edge of the table for support.
“Good. Now kneel for your final oath,” the man says.
Elias freezes, just slightly. If he hadn’t been around my family for the past decade, I wouldn’t have noticed it.
“No.” He straightens. His fingers tighten around the lighter. “I never kneel for anything or anyone.”
My pulse shoots up. I can’t see much in the frame, but I feel the hostility in the air like I were physically there.
“What do you mean, no?”
“No, is no. Take it or leave it.”
Another beat of silence. Muffled voices murmur offscreen. A low argument. Cold dread gathers in my chest, and I clutch the tablecloth in front of me. I tell myself it’s because I’m terrified of The Association and not because I’m scared about what they’ll do to him.
“This can be classified as a betrayal of The Association,” the man muses, voice sinister. “Of which you just told us the consequences.”
Elias stills, so much I don’t even see his chest move. Then, a low, rough chuckle raises the hairs on my forearms. “You’re smarter than that. You need me.”
“You’re calm about this,” the same voice murmurs. “A sick motherfucker. You’re lucky we want you on our side.”
