"Everyone who arrived at the estate tonight was security. My people. Dressed in evening wear to make it look real from a distance."
"No." She's shaking her head. "I saw the cars. The people. They were—"
"Actors. Guards. Every single one of them." I pause, let her process. "The real guests, your brother, my brothers, the families, they never came to the party. They're alive, Aoife. All of them."
The hope that flashes across her face is painful to watch.
Then it dies.
Replaced by something colder. Harder.
"You knew." Her voice is flat. "You knew this was going to happen, and you didn't tell me."
"Yes."
"You let me think my brother was dead."
"Yes."
"You let me grieve. Let me break. Let me—" Her voice cracks. "Why?"
The question I've been dreading.
I could lie. Could tell her it was for her own safety, that I was protecting her, that there wasn't time.
Before I say anything, she shifts closer to me.
"You thought I was the mole."
I don't answer. Don't need to.
The silence is answer enough.
"You thought I was the one betraying you." Her voice rises. "You thought I was working with Viktor."
"I couldn't risk—"
"Get me out of this car." She's moving now, reaching for the door. "Get me out. Now."
I step back. Give her room. She climbs out, stumbles slightly when her feet hit the gravel. I reach out to steady her, but she slaps my hand away.
"Don't touch me."
"Aoife—"
"Don't fucking touch me!" She's screaming now. "You let me think everyone was dead! You let me think my brother burned alive while I ran away like a coward!"
"I had to make sure—"
Her hand comes up fast. The slap cracks across my face hard enough to snap my head to the side.
I let it land. Don't move. Don't defend myself.
I deserve it.
"You bastard!" She hits me again. Open palm against my chest. "You goddamn bastard!"
Another hit. Then another.
