Page 18 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

Because I’m sure I already know the truth. If the threats he leveled against me over the phone are to be taken seriously, and I have no reason to think otherwise, then he’s spilling all those secrets to Salamanca, making sure he knows every little detail about my business and how we run it. This weapons’ cache, which served almost every criminal in the city, was among my very first, and I can’t see it as a coincidence that it’s the initial strike Salamanca makes against my business. As though he’s underlining the fact that he can do whatever he pleases now that he has my son on his side, and doesn’t care who knows it.

I weave my way through the hallways, which are now pockmarked with bullets and smoke—shafts of light cut through where the ceiling has been broken, and it seems to groan with every step I take. I should probably be more careful, but right now I don’t want to be. Rage and betrayal scream in my mind, so intense it feels like they might take over everything else inside of me, and the best I can do is keep counting my footsteps, focusing on the sound echoing through the shattered space around me as I approach Cesc.

When I reach him, I can tell at a glance that he’s lucky to be alive. One of the medics is tending to his arm, and he winces as they tighten a bandage around what looks like a bullet wound. His shirt is stained with blood, though most of it is now dry—his, or someone else’s? I don’t know, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of it one way or another.

“You finished here?” I bark at the medic, voice sharper than I intend.

He jumps upright, nodding. “Yes, I⁠—”

“Then leave us,” I tell him, gesturing toward the door. He does as he’s told, taking off before he can land on the wrong end of my ire.

I turn to Cesc, who straightens up slightly, wincing as he tugs his shirt down over his wound. He buttons up his shirt, still looking away from me, and I can tell that he’s concerned about how I’m going to respond. As if I might tear chunks out of him for failing me, when all I give a damn about is whether my old friend is safe.

“How are you?” I ask gruffly. Seems a stupid question, given the state he’s in now, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine,” he replies. “Had worse.”

I’m not sure if I believe him, but I’m not in a place where I want to argue. I pull up a chair, sitting down and leaning my arms on the sides as I eye him. How do I come out with it? I have no idea how much is known about my son’s involvement with Salamanca, and I had hoped that I would be able to keep it under wraps, at least until he saw sense and came back to the fold. But now, I’m not sure I can.

“I need to ask you something,” I tell him, fixing him with a hard look that I’m sure he knows the context of. He grimaces slightly, shifting so he can face me properly, and nods at me to go on.

I flick my tongue over my lip, trying to find the words to say it out loud. Because as soon as I do, I know there’s no taking it back, no undoing the enormity of what I have just admitted to. I close my eyes, cutting myself off from Cesc’s sharp gaze, and speak.

“Was Andreo with them?”

He knows Andreo, of course he does. Cesc has been part of my life for long enough that he was there the day my son was born, knows him as well as anyone can. And, with a long sigh—he nods.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, he was.”

I mutter a curse under my breath. This is bad. Really fucking bad. Not just because it affirms everything Andreo said to me about his intentions with Salamanca, but because it lays it all out on the line for everyone else to uncover too.

I didn’t want anyone else to hear about this, not if I could help it. I can only imagine how it will be interpreted, how people will see me now that they know I’ve entirely lost the grip on my son and that he has joined forces with my enemies. It’s like he has torn a hole through my business, and now there’s nothing I can do to plug it up.

“Did he do this to you?”

Cesc shakes his head. “I only caught a glimpse of him,” he replies. “Looked to me like he had a gun, and he was involved in the attack, but he didn’t try to get in my face…”

“Probably wouldn’t know how to handle you,” I mutter, and he laughs—then winces, reaching for the wound on his side and pressing his hand into it to stem the discomfort.

“Shit,” he says, closing his eyes as he tries to bring himself back to the conversation. “I think I need to rest, don…”

“Of course,” I say, rising to my feet at once. “Take all the time you need. I’ll call a car to bring you back to the mansion.”

“Hold on,” he tells me as I reach the door. I look back toward him, wondering what else he could possibly have to hit me with after the mess that has already gone down.

“Yeah?”

“Is it true?” he asks, leaning forward, eyes narrowed. “About you and the girl?”

I sigh and push a hand through my hair. I don’t want to have this conversation with him, or with anyone for that matter, but I know this all must be a confusing mess to him. If anyone deserves to hear the truth, it’s him, and I’m not going to keep it from him any longer.

“That we’re married? Yes.”

He shakes his head slightly, trying to fit the pieces together. “And is that why Andreo…?” He cocks an eyebrow.

I shake my head. “No,” I reply. “Other way around. I married her because Andreo walked out. Couldn’t leave her to deal with all of this alone.”

“Right.” I can tell from his tone that he’s not entirely convinced.