Chapter 36
Delilah
When we enter the dining room, I freeze. Seems Fallon has decided to change things up.
There are two place settings with delicate china and ornate silverware, crystal wine glasses, tall water glasses, and white napkins. A large platter with a dark, rich-looking chocolate cake sits near the head of the table.
“Please, sit.” Fallon gestures to the chair he’s pulled out next to the head of the table. “Join me.”
I take a hesitant step forward, noting the bottle of wine and the fact Reaper and Striker aren’t here. The last thing I want is to be alone with Fallon again.
“You are dismissed,” Fallon tells the two soldiers, as I take the seat.
“Where are they?” I ask.
Fallon sits at the head of the table, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. “If by they, you mean my sons, they are making rounds ensuring the grounds are secure.” He leans over and picks up a knife, then cuts into the cake. “Besides, I wanted to speak to you in private.”
My nerves bundle up in my belly as he serves me, loading my plate with a thick slice of cake. The last time his sons were occupied, and I was alone with Fallon, I ended up with a gun aimed at my head.
Not that I think Fallon will kill me. He needs me. That much is clear now. But I don’t trust him. Every move he makes is laced with ill intent.
Fallon serves himself, then pours wine into each glass. He gestures to my plate. “Please enjoy.”
Carefully, I reach for the fork, half expecting Fallon to lash out and stab my hand with his fork. If I’ve learned anything from him, it’s that he’s unpredictable. For all I know, this could be some other lesson I’m about to learn.
Or retaliation for standing up to him and calling his bluff.
When he doesn’t do anything, I take a small bite and nearly melt as the smooth, rich taste floods my tongue. It’s been over a week since I’ve had anything other than mushy oatmeal and handheld foods, and I groan as I take another bite, savoring the delicate sweetness.
I feel Fallon’s eyes on me as I shovel another bite into my mouth. “Slow down, or you’ll end up sick.”
I swallow my bite and lower my fork to my plate, my cheeks warming. How this man can make me feel constantly inferior and small with just a few words is beyond me.
“When Viper was a boy, he had the worst sweet tooth,” Fallon says.
A faint smile touches his lips and for a heartbeat, I could almost pretend that he actually loves his sons.
Almost. When he catches me staring, his smile grows wider, and he cuts into his cake.
“He was such an innocent boy in many ways. But not in others.”
“He was six,” I snap. “Of course he was innocent.”
“Exactly,” Fallon nods. “Children are innocent. Until they are not.”
“Children are always innocent,” I say sharply, my hatred toward him growing.
“Innocence is subjective,” Fallon says.
My stomach twists. “A child’s innocence is never subjective. They either have it stolen by men like you, or harsh truths are forced on them.”
He chuckles again, darker. Like he’s enjoying this sick exchange.
Like he’s toying with me. “You watched your mother die on a sidewalk on your birthday,” Fallon says.
I clench my teeth, my heart fluttering weirdly, my insides screaming, hating that he has such intimate knowledge of me.
“Would you say Sofia’s death stole a piece of your innocence? ”
“Whoever murdered her stole my mother and my innocence,” I snap.
“Did they though? You still remained innocent. Na?ve to the ways of the world. To the way your father worked. How he ran his business, the things he did to keep it.”
“I was a child.”
“But even as an adult, you remained na?ve. Or should I say, you chose willful ignorance,” Fallon says. “It’s easier than addressing the fact that you helped him hide his crimes, so don’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t,” I say, even though I do exactly that.
Blame myself because I did lie to myself.
Turn a blind eye. Refuse to acknowledge anything around me, much less how it affected me.
I walk through life numb and robotic because it’s easier, like he said.
Easier than admitting that I am trapped by powerful men, forced to do their bidding.
I still am.
I grind my jaw, knowing Fallon is watching me, knowing my inner struggle.
Because he led me here.
“Tell me, Delilah, do you think a part of Cora’s innocence was taken when her mother and father died?”
“She was orphaned,” I say. “They died in a car accident. That’s different.”
“Yes. The accident. So tragic.” He chuckles. “Are you aware of what Caroline did?”
“If you mean she betrayed my father on a business deal, then yes,” I say. “Everyone knows that.”
Fallon locks his eyes with mine. “Naivety is deadly.”
I swallow, not sure what to make of his expression. It’s dark, but he’s so calculated with everything he does, I’m not sure of what he wants me to see. He’s taken this conversation in so many directions my head feels clogged with too many words and too much subtext.
“Deadly and dangerous,” Fallon says. “As is a lack of control. Yesterday proved that you allow your emotions to control you. This must stop.”
Instead of responding, I reach for my wineglass and take a sip. The dark, rosy notes hit my tongue, and I take another.
“It is crucial that you keep your emotions in check,” Fallon says. “You have only a week before your return.”
The glass rattles as it hits the table. “You mean…” My voice trails off. Why didn’t the men tell me? Maybe they couldn’t.
My stomach dips, the rich cake turning sour and heavy.
I’m going back. To Rune. I’ll have to face him. Lie to him. Pretend I don’t know what he does at that lodge.
Pretend I don’t know about Cora.
The reality of what I’m expected to do crashes into me, and my heart picks up pace. My face flushes. Needles prick at my fingertips. I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help.
“Breathe,” Fallon says. “Drink water.”
With a shaky hand, I pick up the tall water glass and take a sip, but the fingers of panic wrap around my neck and squeeze, making it too hard to swallow.
“I don’t need to tell you that when you return, it will be difficult,” Fallon says. “You will be questioned, doubted, and will have to prove to Rune that you are loyal to him.”
I nod, but can’t seem to make any words form.
If I fail, I’m dead. We all know it.
“I believe you will succeed. There is too much at stake.” He pats my hand.
My gaze darts to where he touched me, and I pull my hands to my lap, swiping my thumb over the skin to remove the slithering sensation.
“It is vital that when you meet with the Snyder Group to go over the contract, you ensure you receive an invitation to join them at the lodge.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in, and when they do, my head snaps in his direction. I stare dumbly at him, my mind whirling. All the fragments of information I’ve been told over the last few weeks fall into place.
The hotel chain. Snyder. The deal. The weapons. The night at the club.
They planned this.
Every minor detail has been planned.
I press my fingers to my neck, rubbing at my skittering pulse. “The weapons.”
“Yes, the Snyder Group sold Rune the weapons, and continues to do so.” Fallon picks up his wineglass and takes a sip, watching my reaction.
I knew something was off, that we were spending way too much money for a chain of hotels, but it was my job to hide Rune’s deals, not question him. The image of the video feed and the man with the sunglasses and arrogant smile flashes in my head.
Breaker. It was Breaker.
Cora…
Does Cora know?
I ask him just that.
“She’s been made aware,” Fallon says cryptically.
“So she is aware of the plan?” I ask, my throat suddenly tight again, but not for the same reasons. “Is she aware…”
“Reaper explained you kept Rune’s activities a secret from her,” Fallon says. “Cora has not been told the extent of what Rune does. And as far as I know, she hasn’t been informed of the full plan.”
The full plan being me somehow getting into Rune’s lodge.
I take a breath and relax some, but then stiffen again.
How am I supposed to get to his lodge after years of refusing to go?
I’ve spent my entire adult life teasing him about his boy’s club, about his obsession with going for a week or two every year, whenever Zane invited me to go.
Wait.
Zane knows.
Zane participates.
“Zane knows, doesn’t he?” I say. The words slip out in a horrified whisper.
Of course he knows. Everyone who steps foot in Rune’s lodge would know. My stomach roils, and I bolt up from my seat, pressing my hand to my belly.
Zane invited me. Often. What if I had said yes? What if I had seen what Rune did and refused to be a part of it? Because I would have. I’d never partake in the hunting of people. The barbaric, evil dismembering and deaths of the people I saw in those images.
Cora. God, they sent her to him.
“You sent her back to marry him,” I whisper, my hands shaking. “You sent her back, knowing what, who he is. To that monster.”
Fallon rises and places a hand on my shoulder. “Reaper, explain—” he begins, but I brush him off and take a step back.
She can never find out. If Cora discovers what Rune does, what Zane does, what the men knowingly sent her back to, she’d be devastated.
I’m devastated.
My fingers curl into the fabric over my chest like I can rip this pain out of me. It doesn’t matter that they had no choice. Anger sometimes has no logic, and right now, I want to punch each of them in the face for keeping this from me.
“Sit,” Fallon barks out. “Your constant theatrics wear on me, Delilah.”
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I need to keep my temper under control. This is a game I’m forced to play, and if I don’t follow the rules, I won’t just be the one suffering the consequences. We all will.
Slowly, I lower myself to the seat and place my hands on the table, shoving my anger aside. I know they had to follow Fallon’s commands to send her back. They tried and failed and found another way to keep us safe.
“Your father has been in contact with me,” he says.
My breath whooshes from my lungs. “For how long?” I ask.
I had thought that he never bothered to contact Fallon.
But it appears I was wrong. Why didn’t they tell me?
Maybe because they didn’t want to give me false hope.
They weren’t sending me back. Not until I was ready.
Not until I was prepared to end Rune’s life.
Not until they owned my mind and my heart.
“A few days after my sons took you. Two to be exact.” He sees my expression, hears the disbelief in my gasp.
“Rune was cleaning up quite the mess I made in his lobby.” He cocks his head to the side.
“Believe it or not, it takes time to bribe police, pay off or dispose of employees who ask too many questions—”
“Dispose?” I think of the receptionists there that day, and my gut churns. I shake my head to refocus. “What did Rune say?”
“He offered me money.” A slight chuckle leaves him. Like he can’t believe my father offered to pay a ransom to kidnappers. “Rune thinks life has a price.”
“Doesn’t it?” I ask.
Those cold, ice-colored eyes assess me. “Does it? I believe life is priceless.”
“Says the man who murdered boys and sends his sons to kill and kidnap people for a hefty fee.”
His lip quirks at the corner. “I merely cash in on other’s greed.” Fallon leans back in his chair. “The people who hire me want something, and they are willing to pay for it.”
“My father wants me back, and he’s willing to pay,” I say, “so why not let him think that?”
“Is he willing, though?” Fallon asks.
“You said he contacted you, offering money.”
He makes a strange sound. “Tell me, Delilah. What’s more valuable? A mother or a child?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask. “They are both valuable.”
“Indeed,” he agrees. “Yet if you had to choose, which one would you say is more valuable?”
“The child,” I say.
“Some would say the mother. After all, children die every day.” His strange expression creates goosebumps on my arms. “But a mother can always bear another child.”
I suck in a breath, appalled. “You’re saying to choose to kill the child because the mother could have another?”
He gives me a faint, tight smile. “Tell me then, knowing everything you know now, would you go back and choose your life over your mother’s?”
I press my lips together watching him. He’s playing some game with me, and I don’t know where he’s going with this. “If I could go back in time, I would choose neither of us.”
“Not an option, Delilah,” Fallon says. “Choose. You live, and you end up here, knowing all this, and return to kill Rune. Or you die, and you never learn what he is, and he continues.”
What he is. A rapist. A murderer.
“Have you ever considered that my mother’s death led Rune down this path?” I ask. “He went mad, just as you said.”
“I think about it every single day,” he says, hands folding in his lap. “Now, pay attention. I’m about to tell you exactly what I expect you to do when you return to Rune.”