Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Your father put a hit on Jax Donovan.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “That’s absurd.”
“Your uncle was blackmailing your father. He was going to remove your father from the business.”
“Blackmailing? About what?”
“Jax had physical proof of something your father had done years ago that your father had thought he’d erased.”
I’m struck mute, shocked for the second time in the span of a few minutes. “Uncle Jax wouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“You don’t know the world you come from.”
“He wouldn’t.”
Ignoring my comment, he continues. “Your father took action.”
My brain is struggling to keep up, to make sense of it all. “Took action by hiring someone to kill him? He wouldn’t do that any more than Uncle Jax would blackmail him or anyone.”
“He did. I can let you listen to the phone call if you like.”
“What? I don’t… How would you even have that?”
“I have it because he didn’t realize he’d contracted the hit with my father.”
My hands fly to my mouth. I know what Santos is. I know what the Augustine family is. Why is this still such a shock to hear?
“Not sure you wanted to know all that after all, are you? Truth can be a tricky thing, Madelena. There’s no going back from it. No unknowing it. Remember that.”
“But… No. No, it doesn’t make any sense. Uncle Jax… My father wouldn’t…”
He touches my face. “You’re very innocent, and I like that about you. But like I said, you don’t know the world you come from.”
“Were you there to do it then?” I ask, annoyed at his comment and slapping his hand away. “Is that why you’d gone to the house, but found someone had already done your work for you? Because that’s what you want me to believe, right?”
“There was no reason to kill your uncle. We had evidence that your father contracted a murder. We had what we needed to make him bend to our will. That’s all we wanted.”
“Why? Why this personal vendetta against my father?”
“That’s a whole other can of worms you don’t want to open,” he says, pausing. He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. “Or do you want me to tell you that, too?”
I lean away a little, my non-answer answer enough.
“Your uncle knew I was coming to see him, and we’d agreed on him turning off the surveillance cameras.”
“I don’t believe he’d have done that. He was obsessed with security.”
He continues, ignoring me. “You having received that photo of me leaving the house, that’s problematic. It means the killer knew I’d be paying Jax a visit. And he or she also knew I wouldn’t fulfill the contract. So, they did, and they made sure to have footage of me arriving at the scene.”
“So, you want me to believe you were hired to kill my uncle, but weren’t going to, and someone else did, and they’re framing you?” I remember something else Odin told me then. “Did someone frame you of murder when you landed with the Commander too?”
There’s a moment when the tables turn and it’s Santos who is surprised. But it’s only for a moment before a shadow settles in his eyes. “What did you say?”
“You killed a man,” I push, knowing this is important, although not quite sure it’s safe for me to continue. But I’m betting on the fact that Santos won’t hurt me. He’s never hurt me—not after making our blood oath. “You killed him over his daughter.”
Santos clenches his jaw and stands. His hands fist at his sides as he turns his back to me, all the muscles in his shoulders and back going stiff, and I know this is important. This is a key to something. Santos Augustine is a man with a dark past. This is one of his secrets. I need to know it more than I need to know anything else.
“Who is she?” I ask, my heart a mere flutter of beats in my chest as I wait for his answer.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t speak.
“She’s important. Who is she?” I ask again, this time feeling a twinge of something I can only name as jealousy.
“Was,” he says after a long moment. “Not is.” He turns to me, hand still balled, jaw still tight. He doesn’t speak again, not right away, as if waiting for me to process.
Was.
Whoever she was is dead. That jealousy turns to guilt.
“Who told you about her?” he asks tightly.
A knock comes on the door before I have to answer, and I’m relieved. I know if Santos finds out it was Odin who told me, he will hurt my brother.
“Yes?” Santos barks.
Val opens the door and peers inside. “He’s here.”
Santos turns back to me, studies me, eyes narrowing. “Put him in the basement,” he tells Val in a low tone. I shudder at the order because I know for a fact nothing good will happen in that basement. With men like Santos Augustine, that’s a given.