Chương 8
He had gotten it opening a locked cabinet that had apparently been locked for no reason.
“You have a first aid kit in every room?” she asked.
“Almost.”
“That’s excessive.”
“That’s preparation.”
“That’s anxiety.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“You always diagnose people while helping them?”
“Yes.”
“Does it work?”
“Usually.”
“That must annoy people.”
“Usually.”
He looked at the bandage.
“You know, most people are afraid of him.”
Tessa kept working.
“I noticed.”
“Most people are afraid of me too.”
“I noticed that also.”
Malcolm smiled faintly.
“You’re not.”
“I don’t know you well enough to be afraid of you.”
“That is not how fear works.”
“Maybe it should be.”
Malcolm became quiet.
Then he said, “He’s not what people think.”
Tessa looked up.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
She waited.
Malcolm looked toward the hallway where Rafe had disappeared.
“Rafe.”
The way he said the name was different from everyone else.
Not admiration.
Not fear.
Something closer to loyalty.
“He saved my life once,” Malcolm said.
Tessa did not interrupt.
“I was nineteen.”
The memory seemed uncomfortable for him.
“Working security for his father.”
“His father?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm looked down.
“I made a mistake.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that gets people killed.”
Tessa stopped wrapping.
“What happened?”
“I froze.”
That answer surprised her.
Malcolm continued.
“Someone had a weapon. I saw it. I knew what was happening. But I hesitated.”
“And Rafe?”
“He moved before I did.”
Tessa looked at him.
“He was younger?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-two.”
She absorbed that.
“He saved you.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me?”
Malcolm shrugged.
“Because people think he became dangerous because he wanted power.”
“And you don’t?”
“No.”
“What do you think?”
Malcolm looked toward the hallway.
“I think he became dangerous because nobody else was willing to be.”
Tessa did not know if that was true.
She had learned not to accept other people’s versions of someone too quickly.
But she understood one thing.
People were rarely created from one thing.
Not monsters.
Not heroes.
Not anyone.
Rafe returned a few minutes later.
He had changed clothes.
No suit.
No appearance meant for public meetings.
Just dark jeans and a plain shirt.
Tessa noticed.
“You look different.”
“I changed clothes.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He looked at himself briefly.
“What do you mean?”
“You look less like someone playing a role.”
He looked away.
“I’m not sure I know the difference anymore.”
The sentence was quiet.
She wanted to answer.
Before she could, his phone rang.
The call came from an unknown number.
Everyone froze.
Rafe answered.
“Hello.”
No one spoke.
Then June’s voice came through.
“Rafe.”
His eyes closed for a second.
“June.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words immediately changed him.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Concern.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is with you?”
She hesitated.
Tessa noticed.
So did Rafe.
“June.”
“There’s someone here.”
“Who?”
A long pause.
Then June whispered, “Someone who knew Mom.”
Rafe went still.
“Put them on.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think they want to talk to you.”
The call crackled.
A different voice appeared.
Older.
Calm.
Too calm.
“Hello, Rafe.”
Nobody in the room moved.
Rafe’s face changed.
Not because he recognized the voice.
Because he did.
“Elias.”
The man laughed softly.
“So you remember me.”
“You’re dead.”
“Your father was very good at making people believe things.”
Rafe gripped the phone.
“Where is my sister?”
“She’s safe.”
“I want proof.”
“You always want proof.”
The voice became quieter.
“Just like your mother.”
Tessa watched Rafe’s reaction.
His breathing changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“What did you do to her?” Rafe asked.
“To your mother?”
The question hung there.
“No.”
A pause.
“To your sister.”
Elias sighed.
“I didn’t hurt your mother.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened.
“Then tell me what happened.”
“You really don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
The older man was silent.
Then he said, “Your mother discovered what your father had built.”
“And?”
“And she tried to leave.”
Rafe stopped moving.
Tessa felt the shift.
A memory.
A wound.
Something breaking open.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying your father did not kill her.”
A pause.
“He chose not to save her.”
The call ended.
Rafe stood perfectly still.
No anger.
No movement.
Nothing.
Tessa stepped closer.
“Rafe.”
He looked at her.
And for the first time since she met him, the strongest man in the room looked completely lost.
The silence lasted only a few seconds, but to Rafe it felt like the entire house had stopped moving.
Tessa had seen that expression before.
Not on criminals or powerful men.
On people who received news that changed the shape of their memories.
The past did not disappear.
It rearranged itself.
“Rafe,” she said softly.
He looked at her.
His eyes were clear, but something behind them had gone distant.
“My whole life,” he said, “I thought I knew the worst thing about that night.”
Nobody interrupted.
“I thought my mother died because my father made a mistake.”
He swallowed.
“Now I don’t know if the mistake was the accident or everything that came after.”
Tessa stepped closer.
“What do you need right now?”
The question seemed to confuse him.
Not because it was difficult.
Because nobody had asked him that in years.
“I need to find my sister.”
“That is not the only thing.”
“It is the only thing that matters.”
“Right now, yes.”
She held his gaze.
“But after that?”
He looked away.
There was no answer.
That frightened him more than Elias.
Because enemies were easier.
Enemies had faces.
Grief did not.
Malcolm quietly moved toward the door.
“I’ll prepare the team.”
Rafe stopped him.
“No.”
Malcolm turned.
“Boss?”
“No team.”
The room went still.
Tessa watched him carefully.
“What changed?”
Rafe looked at the phone.
“Elias wants the old me.”
“And?”
“And I think I finally understand why.”
He looked at Malcolm.
“Every time someone challenged my father, he responded with force.”
Malcolm nodded slowly.
May you like
“Yes.”
“I spent years thinking that was strength.”
