Chapter 12
KAIA
Flynn’s words don’t leave me even as life at the Gallagher estate starts to settle.
My new freedom outside of the cells involves being able to go mostly where I could before, only this time a heavily armed guard follows me around like a shadow.
The only privacy I get is in the bathroom, but even then the guard insists I keep the door open to ensure I’m not up to anything. As frustrating as it is, I understand it.
The guard’s under orders to kill me if I try to escape or engage in anything that risks harm to Flynn or Angie, but that isn’t my priority anymore.
Wanting Flynn dead feels exhausting, as if it were a part of me that died instead when he was at my feet, choking for air.
Taking a life…it’s the hardest, most disgusting thing I’ve ever done and no amount of reassuring myself that I never went through with it will calm the nightmares that plague me or rid me of the guilt that I’m spitting on the memories of my dead friend and family by not wanting to stain my hands and rob a child of her father.
Flynn surely let me hang out with Angie to really drive home the point that an innocent seven-year-old would be the true victim in all of this.
Despite that, something about Flynn’s comment the night we played tea parties doesn’t leave me, nor does the feeling that I’m missing something.
That feeling only amplifies as the days trickle by. Flynn’s recovery is strong and by the fourth day of my new freedom, I glimpse him walking without his cane.
By the time a week goes by, he’s back to carting Angie around on the top of his shoulders.
For a bloodthirsty mafia king, his softness with his daughter is something right out of a daytime movie.
We eat together, watch movies together, and exist in each other’s shadows in a new, amicable peace that fills the Gallagher estate, but underneath the quiet recovering and pleasantries, something simmers.
I count more armed guards than normal as the days go by, and Angie’s often never out of Flynn’s sight. Is it because of me?
Did I scare him so much that he really thinks I’m lying and Angie will be my next target?
During the day, such a thought is absurd, but when I lie in bed at night, it’s all I can think about.
What would Vic do?
Would he care?
Anya certainly wouldn’t want me to harm a child, but what about my uncle?
Is his lack of action because he expects me to take care of this?
It would surely be a dream of his to have a Yudkin embedded so deeply within the Gallagher estate, but even thinking about what he’d want me to do sends me right back to my knees in front of the toilet, strangled by nausea.
I’m not a killer, and somehow that makes me feel worse.
On a sunny afternoon, I loop my daily walk down to the playroom in search of Angie.
Spending time with her is rather refreshing since for her, life is normal and I embrace the silence.
It’s also my hope that Flynn will see I’m really not a threat to his child.
He hasn’t spoken to me much since the tea party, outside of casual pleasantries when Angie is around.
Unfortunately, the playroom is empty so I continue my walk, but the library and conservatory are both absent Angie and Flynn.
Did they leave for the day?
He strikes me as the kind of father who would spend hours on that nearby lake with his daughter and the thought warms my heart as I wander down a darker hallway I’m certain I’ve never been in before.
The air is cooler, and a subtle layer of dust coats some of the display tables I pass with my ever-present guard.
“No one cleans down here, huh?” I joke softly, not that my guard replies. He’s as silent as a statue unless he has an order to give or a restriction to enforce.
No one else around here is as forgiving as Flynn, it seems.
I can’t blame them.
Loyalty like this can’t be bought and it’s admirable, even if I’m on the receiving end.
The first door leading off this hallway is locked and the metal bites coldly into my plan.
The next two are also locked, which only ignites my curiosity further.
This entire wing seems sealed off.
As I walk down a worn carpet and check another door, I scan the walls for hints of what could be down here.
A ballroom, maybe?
I can’t imagine that would be used that often.
At the last door I try, the handle gives way slightly and I’m not met with the expected weight of a lock.
But just as I move to push it open, I hesitate and glance back at my guard.
“Are you going to shoot me if I go in here?”
Despite the flicker of uncertainty in his brown eyes, my guard shakes his head. “I’m only under order to shoot you if your actions bring harm to our captain or his daughter, or you breach the perimeter fence.”
“So not for going in here?”
“No.”
“Okay…” His uncertainty is visible though and fuels my curiosity, so I push down harder on the handle.
A stiff hinge creaks in complaint and I push the door open.
A light scent of must immediately hits my nose as I take a step into a dark room.
Heavy curtains are drawn across the window with only a sliver of light piercing through the gap.
It streaks across the floor and rests on what looks like a bed, but before I can look deeper a hand wraps around the back of my arm and drags me right out of the room.
“Hey!” I gasp. “You said it was fine!” The words are barely out of my mouth when I spot my guard a foot away looking rather alarmed. It wasn’t him who dragged me from the room but someone else.
Frank.
He shoves me to the other side of the hallway and slams the door. “Didn’t Flynn already scold you about snooping?”
I adjust the sleeve of my shirt and lift my chin. “I wasn’t snooping, I was exploring. I wasn’t trying to do any harm.”
Keys jingle as Frank removes them from his pocket then swiftly locks the door.
Ever since I tried to assassinate Flynn, he hasn’t spoken to me.
We weren’t close by any means, but his silence was noticeable enough that it didn’t feel great.
After locking the door, he spins to face me.
“This isn’t an amusement park, it’s a home.”
“I’m sorry, okay.” Raising both hands in defeat, I bite back a sigh. “I was walking and I was bored.”
“Take up a hobby.”
“Oh because it’s so easy picking a hobby while being a captive,” I snap without thinking, then I wince. “Sorry, I just mean… What’s the point in a hobby when my survival and existence here is depending on Flynn and whatever’s happening out there with my family? Things could change at any second.”
“Are you really in a position to complain after what you did?” Frank snaps.
My eyes narrow. “What about what Flynn has done? Or did you forget how I even ended up here in the first place?”
His lips part as if there’s something he wants to say, but he thinks better of it and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, what would you be doing if you knew you had time here?”
My brows lift. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I…I don’t know. I like painting.”
“You paint?”
“Mhm. I was one of my uncle’s top forgers, actually, once he realized my paintings were actually kind of amazing. A talent he said I inherited from my father because that’s how he got into the business in the first place.”
“Interesting.” Frank glances at his watch and then tilts his head. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
Frank leads me away from the cold hallway and the dark, mysterious room and all the way to the opposite wing of the estate to a sun room I’ve only glimpsed in passing.
One wall is entirely made of floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the nearby lake.
With bright sunlight spilling across the wooden floor, the warmth of the room forces me to roll up my sleeves.
“You know the Gallaghers are in the forgery business, too, correct?” Frank buries himself in a nearby closet and returns carrying a large canvas.
“Yeah but…I thought you specialized in jewelry and clothing?”
“Do you think we would clash so hard with your family if that was all we did?”
As Frank sets up the canvas, I shake my head. “No, I suppose not.”
“I want to see what you can do.” Frank brushes his hands together and steps back.
“You want me to paint?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly, the lake? Not exactly creative, is it?”
Frank suddenly rolls his eyes. “Are you against everything?” he remarks. “You have a hobby, you like to paint. So paint.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t paint basic scenery.” Not that I’d mind. It’s a beautiful scene, but it’s amusing to see how far Frank’s curiosity will let me push him.
He gazes at me in silence for a moment, then turns and strides out of the room, leaving my guard and me to stare after him.
Frank returns two minutes later carrying a heavy frame in which rests a family portrait of the English royals.
“Paint this.”
“Forge it, you mean?” I ask while he props it up for me nearby.
“Yes.”
“I don’t work for free.”
Frank suddenly snorts, amused. “Another excuse. Are you sure you’re a top forger and not just some hobbyist? You talk a big game but can’t back it up. Why am I not surprised?”
I know he’s taunting me, but annoyingly it works. Scraping my hair back from my face, I secure it up into a ponytail with the bobble from my wrist and sigh.
“Fine, but know I’m doing this because I’m bored and not because I’m trying to satisfy you.”
“Whatever you say.” Frank smirks as he hands me a paintbrush. “Show me what you’ve got.”