Page 81 of The Pawn

I knew they wouldn’t simply accept me. There was never a moment I thought they might. But hearing how Joseph spoke to me, how he looked at me, this man I’ve known since I was a child, it shook me. I know he was their mouthpiece. At least half of the men in this room stand with Malek.

But that was the point. I knew Cassian would step in when the time came. I knew he’d make an example. There was never any doubt.

“They’re probably reporting what just happened back to Malek now,” I say, looking up at Cassian, seeing the blood that’s dried on his shirt. His jaw. His hands he washed.

“Good. That’s what we want,” Cassian says.

He and Jet walk toward me. I’m still seated behind my father’s desk. “What will happen?”

“He’ll attack and we’ll be ready.”

“My family, they may not have stood up with Joseph, but some aren’t to be trusted.”

“I know that sweetheart.” He checks his watch. One of his soldiers peers into the room after a knock.

“House is cleared. Everyone’s gone.”

“My uncle?”

“He’s waiting in the living room.”

“Thanks.” Cassian turns to me. “Do you want to pack some more things, Allegra? Take them back home?”

Home. His house. My new home.

I nod, wanting to get out of there.

“We’ll walk you up,” Cassian says, meaning himself and Jet.

“I can go on my own. I know where my room is.”

Cassian and Jet exchange a look, but I don’t think too much of it as we make our way out of the study and down the corridor to the living room. I think of the last party we had here. It was Michael’s birthday not too long ago. I was wearing those wings. How much things have changed.

The living room is eerily quiet apart from the clinking of glasses as they’re gathered onto trays by cleaning staff hired by Cassian. The mirror over the fireplace is covered with a black cloth. It’s always been tradition for our family to cover a mirror when someone passes. There’s a man standing before it. He’s got a corner of the cloth raised and he’s looking behind it. The man has black, curly hair woven through with gray. I don’t know who he is and I’m sure I’ve never seen him before.

I glance at Cassian and find him watching me intently. I wonder if it’s conscious that his fingers brush his jacket where his gun is holstered just beneath as the man drops the cloth and turns to us, his face breaking into a smile.

This is Cassian’s uncle. I’d know it from the eyes. Like Cassian’s, although dimmer, darker. Not as beautiful.

“Cassian, there you are,” he says and suddenly, it’s like a gust of arctic air just blew in. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and my blood turns to ice. I wrap my arms around myself with the sudden cold as my heart beats become frantic and breathing is impossible.

“Uncle,” Cassian says. He steps between me and the man, broad shoulders shielding me.

Cassian and his uncle meet a few steps away to shake hands. His uncle’s eyes are on me.

Jet comes to my side. He must see me trembling. Or hell, maybe I look like a deer in headlights because he touches my arm, brushes his fingers over it. Cassian’s eyes don’t miss the movement.

“Uncle. This is Allegra Moretti. Allegra, my uncle, Angelo Trevino.”

When Angelo comes toward me, it takes all I have to remain where I am. To not turn and run.

I’ve never seen this man in my life. I don’t know him. I can’t.

Yet, alarm bells are ringing so loud, I can’t hear anything else.

Because I know his voice.

Run