"Chamber's family," I murmur distractedly, spinning the bottle around in my palm.
"What about them?" Marco asks.
"They still haven't been located."
"I thought we assumed he must have killed them too."
"We did," I admit. "But what if Chamber's had the foresight to send them away? He had far more connections and money to buy them a new life."
Marco's brows pinch together. "And Abel found out where they were?"
"It's not outside the realm of possibility. He cleaned out Chamber's office. Maybe Chamber's had something there. Maybe he was planning to leave too."
"It sounds reasonable. But would they take Abel in after he murdered their husband and father?"
"I have a feeling Abel doesn't ever wait for an invitation. He just arrives as he pleases."
Marco considers the idea for a moment. "I think you had a point earlier. There are only so many sewers he could hide in. If we want to get him out, we have to flush him out."
"Hard to do when he doesn't care about anyone but himself," I note.
"He cares about his ego though. How he's perceived. It must be killing him to be invisible right now. He's thirsty for power."
I blink at Marco, surprised by his observation. It's simplistic, but so obvious I can't believe I didn't see it myself.
"Why would he need his father dead?" Marco states the obvious.
"So he can become Head of Household."
"Exactly. And I don't think he's disappeared with any notion of giving that up. He's still delusional enough to believe he can take back his power. He's just trying to figure out how."
"There is one way to speed up the process," I remark.
I don't know if it's the scotch talking, or me anymore, but when Marco nods, I know he agrees.
"If Eli were to die for real, there would be a temptation waiting there even Abel couldn't resist. The elevation of his status in the Moreno family."
It's the undeniable answer to all of my problems.
Vengeance for my family's death.
A honey pot to lure Abel back to the Society.
There's just one thing standing in my way.
My unfortunate wife.
* * *
"Knock, knock."
I drag my attention from the knife in my hand to the doorframe. I'm surprised to find Angelo standing there, but I suppose it shouldn't be much of a shock. I've been expecting him to come back and claim the final piece of the puzzle he asked me for.
"You look tired." He walks inside and drops his body into the chair across from me.
"I am fucking tired," I murmur unintelligibly. "Life is exhausting."
"Yet here we both are, still waking up every day," he muses.
I offer him the bottle of scotch, which he declines.
"I know, you aren't here for pleasantries." I fumble around with the keypad on the safe in my bottom drawer, opening it up to retrieve the file I need.
When I sent word to Angelo that I finally had a name for him... a record of who was funding the mysterious bank account he asked me to track, I expected him to arrive within a couple of days. It's been less than ten hours, which tells me he jumped a flight from Seattle this afternoon.
"It's all in there." I set the file onto the desk between us, my palm covering it as if it can shield him from this news.
He glances at it, arching a brow. "You're sure?"
"The proof is there. They were good, but not as good as me. I have a name, an IP address, and every location they've funneled it through, traced back to the origin point."
He reaches out to take the file. But I still can't seem to lift my palm.
"Is this the person who incriminated you?" I ask. "The one who sent you to prison?"
He gives me a stiff nod. "Yes."
Both our hands are on the file now. His inching it toward him, mine adding resistance.
"Once you see this, there's no going back," I tell him.
He freezes, searching my face for answers. And at this moment, I think his betrayal was far worse than mine. I was betrayed by someone I thought of as a father. Angelo was betrayed by his own blood. He is the rightful Sovereign Son. The firstborn heir. But someone wanted to usurp him, and I'm not sure I can be the one to deliver this news.
If I'm being honest, I know he knows already. Intuition is a powerful thing. That's why I know I could not have been wrong about Eli. I felt his betrayal, and I still do.
"Give me the file, Santiago," Angelo tells me calmly. "I can handle it."
Slowly, I release it. And then I watch him as he opens it, studies the name, blinks twice, and shuts it again.
"You are certain?" he asks again.
"I would bet my life on it."
Silence settles between us as he digests the news, his face unmoving. He stares at the closed folder, and I stare at him.