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.
But the time when Adela, when anything, could reach that soft, vulnerable part of me had passed. That part of me was gone now, unreachable, and I shrugged off her intended insult.
“It’s a dangerous time. We have to be on alert.”
“My family takes care of itself, Anton. We always have.”
She turned away then, her message loud and clear.
One final glance at the old man and I left.
Adela seemed as unconcerned as her son, and she’d never had any use for me or my help. But I paid her no heed. I had sworn an oath, given my word, and I would protect my clan for as long as I could, even if some of its leaders didn’t want me to.
I walked down the hall of the house that had never been my home, stopped at the small room at the end of it. I went inside, looked at the supplies that lay there, the machines and medicines that helped keep Christoph’s end at bay.
It usually felt cold, sterile, but there was something different today. I closed my eyes, breathed in the faint cinnamon scent that still lingered in the air.
Then I opened them, glanced around the room until my gaze landed on a bright pink handbag tucked discreetly in a corner. Not that discreet was possible, not in this room that was heavy with impending death and ever-present sorrow.