19. Roman
ROMAN
The stairs creak softly beneath our feet as Fae and I descend together. My hand rests against the small of her back. Every few seconds my thumb moves, brushing the fabric of the hoodie she’s wearing just to remind myself that she’s real.
She’s here.
Still here.
The low murmur of voices from the lounge drifts up toward us before falling silent the moment we reach the door frame.
Every head in the room turns. Robyn sits curled into the corner of the sofa wrapped in two blankets, her frame is small enough that she almost disappears beneath them.
Felix is beside her; one arm draped protectively along the back of the couch like he’s daring anyone to come near her.
Atlas leans forward in a chair opposite them with his laptop closed for once.
Riggs paces slowly near the fireplace with restless energy and Victor stands near the window watching everything with the quiet alertness he always carries.
And then there’s my mum, standing in the centre of the room.
Fiona has always been the one who holds everything together for me and my friends.
When things go wrong, she’s the one we turn to.
With a smile on her face and joy in her eyes, like it’s the greatest honour in her life.
That’s just who she is, as a woman and as a mum, and not just to me but to all of us.
She takes the worst of it, carries the burden, and never lets it break the people standing behind her.
Tonight, though, that joy is gone.
Mum’s gaze flicks over us quickly before settling on me. “Sit down,” she demands softly.
I guide Fae toward the armchair beside the sofa and sit down, pulling her gently onto my lap.
The moment her body presses against mine a quiet sense of steadiness moves through my chest. She feels fragile in my arms as I slide my hands slowly up and down her arms, brushing over the fabric of the hoodie in steady strokes and hoping the rhythm of it might ease some of the tension inside her.
Mum waits until everyone has settled before she speaks again.
“I followed your dad tonight,” she says, her gaze settling directly on me.
“What do you mean you followed him?” My brows pull together instantly.
“I told you, he’s been acting strange for weeks.” Mum pauses, drawing in a steady breath before continuing. “So tonight I decided to find out why.”
The air in my mouth turns dry at the implication of what she’s saying. It’s not that I’m too stupid to put the pieces together. I just need her to say it. I need to understand why my dad is suddenly part of this conversation when we’re supposed to be talking about how Fae was rescued.
“I waited until he left the house and followed his car,” she continues. “He didn’t go to a meeting or to any of the places he usually visits.” Her eyes hold mine. “He went to our house in London.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.
Instead, I pull Fae closer. Her head settles on my shoulder as she turns her gaze toward me, and her teeth nibble her bottom lip again.
Without thinking I lift a hand and gently tug it free from between her teeth before frowning when I see the small bead of blood she’s drawn.
“And?” Felix presses sharply, forcing my attention back to the conversation.
Mum exhales. “And I saw him go inside.”
Her gaze flicks briefly toward Fae before returning to the rest of us.
“When he left later, I went in to see what he’d been hiding.” The room stills. “There was a locked bedroom upstairs and when I forced it open…” Her voice catches. “…I found Fae chained to a bed.”
Felix’s hands curl into fists immediately and the tendons in his forearms stand out.
Riggs lets out a quiet curse under his breath whilst Atlas leans forward in his chair like his brain has already started pulling the pieces apart.
Me? I don’t move and Fae shivers against me as my arms stay locked around her.
The room fades at the edges, the voices around me sounding distant like they’re reaching me through clouds.
My dad?
The thought stumbles through my head slowly.
My dad had her.
That doesn’t make sense.
My mind scrambles to make it fit with everything I know.
Everything I believed. Why would he… He was helping me.
He was the one guiding us. My father stood beside me as we searched for her.
He listened whilst I raged about the men who took her.
He told me we would find them. That we would make them pay.
So why the hell was she locked in my house?
My fingers tighten unconsciously around Fae’s arm as panic starts pushing against my ribs.
“And Robyn?” Victor demands.
“I was tied up in the cellar,” Robyn squeaks.
My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat striking harder than the last as my breathing turns shallow and uneven.
A childhood of sneaking down there with friends from my old boarding school flashes through my mind.
We were barely old enough to drink; the dusty bottles lined the walls as we dared each other to steal whatever we thought looked expensive.
I remember the night I took my first whisky from the racks and nearly choked on it whilst Maverick laughed so hard he had to lean against the wall to stay upright.
The memories grind against the reality sitting in front of me, the place that once held my secrets now carrying the knowledge that my father used it to chain Robyn there like a dog.
I flash a quick look at Robyn as Felix pulls her closer into his body.
My gaze drifts back to Fae, who’s watching me with worry etched across her face.
My mind still feels slow, like a computer running with a virus as I try to find the right questions, or the right emotions that should be coming with them.
Fae’s lip trembles. I don’t know what she’s seeing reflected on my face, but the sight of tears gathering in her eyes guts me from the inside out.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers and breathing her in deeply.
Pure, swelling fury rises inside me at whoever twisted my father into being part of this.
Whoever used him to hold Fae there, inside my family home, inside the place that shaped every memory I have growing up.
It feels like someone took those memories and dragged them through mud just to prove they could.
What do they have on him to make him do this?
I search my mind for answers, for any reason that might explain it, but nothing lines up.
Something about this entire situation refuses to settle.
There are connections forming, but they feel wrong, as though they are pieces from two different puzzles being forced into the same space.
One question pushes harder than the others as my thoughts begin to catch up with the reality in front of me.
How did Fae get from Fisher’s warehouse to my house in London…
and what the hell does my dad have to do with any of that?
“Why?” I croak out. “Why the hell would my dad do that?”
No one answers.
Fae drops her face toward her hands, twisting her fingers together and the room falls into a heavy silence. I count slowly to ten in my head, even though the anger simmering under my skin is starting to push closer to the surface.
Then it clicks with the force of a shockwave, pieces of memories slam together all at once.
I see the house again, my father clicking the safety off his gun over the phone and refusing to answer why.
Atlas finding the bugs hidden in the underground.
His underground. The moment Atlas’ computer locked up and everything disappeared after I told him we were close.
The way Dad seemed to know things before the rest of us did. The way every lead always fell flat.
I reach out and gently grip Fae’s chin, lifting her face so she has to look at me.
“Fae…” I say with a steadier voice than I feel. “Why did my dad hold you?”
The entire room seems to hold its breath as Fae’s eyes flick briefly towards Felix, Robyn, Atlas, Victor, Riggs, and Mum before returning to me.
“Roman…” She shakes her head and my hand tightens on her jaw.
“Tinkerbell,” I murmur softly. “Tell me.”
Her throat moves as she swallows.
“Roman, the boss we’ve been hunting… is your dad.”
“No,” I breathe out.
My eyes desperately search her face, looking for anything that might tell me I’ve misunderstood, but all I find there is sympathy. Soft, undeserved sympathy that only makes guilt twist harder inside my stomach.
My own fucking dad is the boss?
The thought feels impossible and yet every piece of the last few weeks suddenly starts sliding into place.
A bitter heat rises behind my eyes as the truth presses in from every direction.
How can she even look at me right now? How can she still sit in my arms after everything my own flesh and blood did to her?
Rage burns at the edges of my vision as red mist creeps in.
It feels like something inside my ribs is trying to claw its way out.
The room tips on its axis as my mind tries to force the words she just said into something that makes sense.
It doesn’t.
“My dad?” I say hoarsely. “My dad is the boss?”
No one answers. I look around the room hoping someone might tell me this is some kind of sick joke.
But they aren’t laughing. Felix doesn’t even seem to be breathing as Atlas stares at the floor.
Victor looks as though he has just been punched in the stomach and Riggs’ jaw is locked so tightly I can see the muscle twitching beneath the skin from over here.
And my mum… My mum is steadily watching me because she already knew this moment was coming.
“No,” I say again, louder this time. “No, that doesn’t make sense. He helped us,” I push out. “He was the one giving us information. He was the one pushing us toward Ackworth. He—”