Gil lifts his shirt and shows the scar on his stomach.
“I nearly killed him, too, though,” he says. “I put a bullet through his arm.”
No way.
“Right before I killed his half-brother. But not before he slit my father’s throat in his sleep.”
I shake my head. I don’t believe it. Still, I know that Gil is telling the truth about Cain’s injury and his half-brother. So is it also true that Cain is a murderer?
I’ve been sleeping with an assassin?
Is that why he moves around so quietly and has such sharp senses? Is that why he’s used to pain? Why he doesn’t flinch from a fight? I thought that was part of his military training, but now I don’t know. Besides, there’s the fact that Taylor wasn’t able to pull up a lot of information about him.
If he is an assassin, he would work in the shadows.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Sergio suggests. “Oh, but wait. You can’t. Do you know why?”
I don’t answer because my mind is still so muddled.
“Because he’s dead.”
I lift my head slowly. “What?”
“I killed him last night,” Gil says. “In that house I told you about. The place where you were kidnapped.”
What does he mean he told me about?
“I suppose that makes me better than him.”
Sergio pats his shoulder. “Right you are.”
No. I don’t believe it. I can’t. Cain can’t be dead. He’s…
I want to think that he has unparalleled skills in combat, that he’d never lose a fight. But all I can think of is how he got hurt fighting Nero, of the stitches I gave him.
Killer or not, Cain is human. And if he was lured into a trap, then…
I gasp as my chest seems to collapse around my heart. I suddenly can’t breathe.
“Let’s leave her alone to mourn, shall we?” Sergio says.
He and Gil leave. The door to the attic closes. I barely hear it. I remain frozen, gasping for air. My chest hurts. My whole body hurts.
Cain is dead. And it’s my fault. I was the one who sent him to that house. I was the one who dragged him into this mess.
I want to scream in pain. I want to bang my fists against a wall. I even want to throw myself against a wall or curl into a ball inside a closet and never come out.
I can’t do any of that, though, and so I simply let myself drop onto the cold cardboard and let my tears fall, sobbing as I never have before over the loss of the only man I’ve ever loved.
~
When I’ve run out of tears, I sit up. Crying is painful and exhausting, but it’s also cleansing.
Now that I’ve finished crying, my chest feels lighter. My mind is clear. Now that I’m calm, I have a new purpose.
Yes, Cain is dead. I’ve lost him. There’s nothing I can do to get him back. But I’m alive. I can still fight for myself, and that’s what Cain would want. He died protecting me, so I have to keep going. I’m going to go back to Grae. I’m going to bring Sergio Bianchi down. I’m going to catch Gil.
First, I have to get out of here.
I tug at my wrists again. No use. I look around for something sharp I can use to cut the tape. I don’t have a screw this time.
I see a nail sticking out of the old stool, though. That will do.
I go over there and turn my back to the stool. I position my wrists over the nail and start to push.
Come on.
The tape rips. Thank goodness.
Now that my hands are finally free, I wipe the tear stains from my cheeks. I carry the stool to the other side of the room and stand on it as I try to open the window. It won’t budge. Besides, now that I’m taking a closer look at it, I think this window is too small for me to fit through. Maybe that’s why they didn’t board it.
What then?
I glance at the door. I heard the jingle of keys earlier, which means it’s locked from the outside but probably not bolted. Maybe I can pick the lock.
Again, I look around. I’m starting to think my best bet is pulling out the nail from the stool, but then I remember I have something in my pocket.
A key. The key to Nicholas Chandler’s box. I slipped it inside my pocket right before I was abducted.
I take it out now. I press my ear against the door to listen for anyone outside. I don’t have Cain’s super hearing, but I don’t hear anyone. I proceed to pick the lock as quietly as I can. After several seconds, I hear a click.
Success.
I open the door. No one’s outside. Good.
I make my way down the spiral staircase slowly. At the bottom, I look both ways. No one is patrolling the halls, either.