Avenge :Romanian Mob Chronicles(10)

I walked swiftly, hoping that the urgency in my steps would provide cover should someone discover me, a readymade excuse on the tip of my tongue should my apparent hurry not be sufficient to stop further questioning.

The dining room was my first stop. It was Adela’s domain; I couldn’t ever recall Christoph Senior even entering, but I was determined to explore every inch of this house before my time here was done.

I walked into the room, was again struck by how normal it seemed. The dark wood credenza that held delicate-looking china, the low sideboard, the long ten-person dining table in the middle of the room all things that could have been in any house, anywhere. The expensive but ordinary furniture suggested a wealthy couple lived here but gave no hint of the monsters who lurked inside.

I opened the drawers on the buffet and found patterned plates that looked even nicer than those displayed in the cabinet. And even though I knew little about the finer things in life, I knew that these plates had probably cost enough to fund a year of Braden’s care.

The plate cracking sounded like a gunshot in the room, and I glanced around wildly, waiting for someone to come.

But no one did, and by paces my heartbeat slowed. The plate felt heavy in my hands, the deep crack that split the center silently taunting me for my loss of control. I slid the plate back into the drawer, hoping that I would be gone before it was discovered or that Adela would write it off as an accident.

In either case, this was a warning, a wake-up call. I would have to be careful, and most importantly, I would have to stay in control. It didn’t matter that my gut churned with rage at the thought of Christoph and his men eating off these fine plates, not a care in the world, while Braden wasted away, his mind gone but the shell of his body left behind to torment me.

My chest rose and fell with my heavy breaths, the anger squeezing my lungs so tight I could barely breathe around it.

“Stop this, Lily. Focus,” I whispered to myself.

There was no alternative.

I’d spent the last seven years insinuating myself into this world. I’d started small, patching up a stab wound or two when the victim wasn’t interested in the questions the hospital might ask. Then I’d gotten deeper, provided more and more care, including procuring some of the more embarrassing prescriptions and tending longer-term illnesses. Then three years ago, I’d gone in completely, left my nursing job for full-time criminal care.

All of it had been dangerous, and had I been caught, I would have probably gone to jail. But I didn’t care. Each bullet hole I sewed, every pill I distributed got me closer to Christoph. And now I was here, so close to my endgame I could taste it.

But this would all be for naught, and I’d end up dead, if I slipped again, didn’t stay in complete control.

And Braden deserved better.

Renewed after my little pep talk, I finished searching the dining room. When I found nothing, I swallowed the disappointment that had settled in my throat and headed to the kitchen.

What had I expected? That he’d keep a list of his crimes and associates neatly tucked in the dining room just waiting for me to find?

No, Christoph had been at this for decades, and, as far as I knew, had never had to account for his crimes.

So this wouldn’t be easy, and I couldn’t expect such. Lord knew how hard it had been so far.

I searched the kitchen quickly, found nothing of interest. Not this time. I swallowed that disappointment, too. I was familiar with disappointment and not afraid of it. No, what I feared was failing.

And I couldn’t fail, would do whatever it took to get Braden the justice he deserved.

Even if it cost me my life.





Five





Anton





“He’s sleeping,” Adela said, not looking up from the spot where she sat next to Christoph’s bed, one she’d been in more and more often recently.

I said nothing, just looked at the old man, tranquil for once, the wheezing he fought to hide, the pain that he could not, both gone, at least for the moment.

“That nurse. Where did she come from?”

Adela looked at me, her expression harsh, unwelcoming, the one that I knew best from her. “We secured her services.”

“And did someone check her out?” I asked, wondering if her answer would differ from Christoph Junior’s.

“That is your primary concern right now? A nurse?” Adela asked.

A part of me marveled at her. She had a rare gift, her ability to make concern a sin, a simple inquiry into an imposition.

Clan Constantin was renowned and feared for its ability to inflict pain, and Christoph himself had taught me a variety of ways to do so, had trained me in the practice until I was an expert. But even among us, Adela was unique. She had the power to inflict torture without ever lifting a finger, could use a person’s emotions against him, find the slightest mental weakness and pounce. It was an ability I had experienced firsthand.