Page 88 of The Pawn

Malek Lombardi in his grasping for power.

My uncle. My own blood. For what reason?

I see the sight of him on his knees before me.

My uncle begging me for his life. Begging me for time.

He was more a father to me than my own father whocouldn’t stand the sight of me. He has been a constant in my life. The only constant. I never thought to question him.

Allegra must sense the shift in my mood because she mutters something, rolls onto her other side and settles into sleep again. I push the covers off and get up. I get dressed in a pair of old jeans and a sweater and quietly step out of the bedroom. The light in the kitchen is on and I’m surprised to find Enzo at the counter watching the coffee machine percolate.

“Late for coffee, isn’t it?” I ask, startling him.

“Or early,” he says, recovering himself. He gets a mug for himself and holds one up, raising his eyebrows.

I nod.

He pours us each a mug. I breathe it in before taking a sip. Enzo does the same.

“What are you doing, Enzo?” I ask.

He shifts his gaze away, then back. “I took him some water. Something to eat.”

My eyes narrow.

“He’s my father, Cassian.”

“Your father is a traitor, Enzo.” My chest tightens to say it.

He sighs. “What did he do exactly?”

“He’s working with Malek. He was at the house. The Maestro’s house.”

“You’re sure?”

“What? You’re worried about him now? I didn’t think there was any love lost between you two.”

“He’s still my father.”

I study Enzo. He’s right and even though he and his father are barely on speaking terms these days, this will impact our relationship.

“I don’t think you should go down there,” he says.

“What did he tell you?” I ask.

“Not much. Why do you think he betrayed you?”

“There’s someone on the inside,” I say. “You know that. Hell, it could have been him who tipped off Michael Moretti on that shipment. He knows more about covering his tracks than I do. That crypto payment to Michael? Could have easily come from him. He has the means.” I drink another sip.

“Well, you can’t believe anything he says now.”

“Why is that?”

“He’ll do anything to save his neck.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. What about you and me, cousin? Where do we stand?”

Enzo drinks the last of his coffee and studies me. “You and me, cousin, have nothing to do with him.”