Chapter 9 - THE FALSE HUSBAND
Salvatore reached the stairs before Anthony.
Clara was against the stone wall near the entrance.
One hand over her stomach.
Sebastian stood several feet away.
A man lay unconscious near his feet.
One of Anthony’s guards.
Salvatore stopped.
“What happened?”
Clara pointed toward Sebastian.
“He tried to take me.”
Sebastian’s face twisted.
“No.”
Clara stared at him.
“You grabbed me.”
“I heard something in the trees.”
“You dragged me toward the car.”
“To get you away.”
“Without saying a word?”
Sebastian looked at Salvatore.
“I saw movement.”
Salvatore stepped between them.
“Where?”
Sebastian pointed.
Nothing.
Only trees.
Anthony checked the unconscious guard.
Alive.
Blow to the back of the head.
Salvatore looked at Sebastian.
“You did this?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Salvatore watched his face.
Fear.
Anger.
Confusion.
Not enough to clear him.
Not enough to condemn him.
Eleanor emerged from the stairwell.
“Sebastian.”
He turned.
She saw Clara’s expression.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Salvatore noticed something near Sebastian’s collar.
A black cord.
He grabbed it.
Sebastian jerked back.
A small medallion came free from beneath his shirt.
Three lines.
One cut.
Everyone went silent.
Clara stared.
“You said you’d never seen that mark.”
Sebastian looked down.
His face changed.
“I haven’t.”
Salvatore pulled the medallion off.
“It was around your neck.”
“I didn’t put it there.”
“Convenient.”
Sebastian touched the broken cord.
“I swear.”
Eleanor’s expression shifted.
She recognized the pendant.
“Where did you get that?”
“I told you—”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Where?”
Sebastian stared at her.
“I woke up with it.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Salvatore watched.
“You saw it and said nothing?”
“I thought it was yours.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“You leave religious junk everywhere.”
Eleanor slapped him.
Hard.
Everyone froze.
Sebastian stared at his mother.
She whispered:
“Your father wore that the night he died.”
Sebastian stopped moving.
Clara looked at Salvatore.
The circle was closing.
Richard Hale.
Luca.
Gabriel.
House.
Chosen child.
And now the medallion had moved from one dead man to his son.
Somebody wanted Sebastian marked.
Or blamed.
Salvatore looked toward the trees.
“Gabriel.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Maybe.”
Anthony returned.
“Tracks.”
“How many?”
“One man. Maybe two.”
“Vehicle?”
“No.”
“They came on foot.”
The nearest road was nearly a mile away.
Someone had been waiting in the woods.
Watching.
Salvatore looked at the unconscious guard.
“Wake him.”
The man came around slowly.
Head bleeding.
He remembered only hearing a whistle.
Then darkness.
“What kind of whistle?”
The guard frowned.
“Three notes.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Salvatore saw it.
“What?”
“Richard used to whistle three notes before meetings.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“What meetings?”
“The House.”
Again.
A signal from a dead man.
Or from someone who learned his habits.
Clara suddenly gripped Salvatore’s arm.
Her face tightened.
Pain.
“Clara?”
She breathed through it.
“Baby moved.”
“Pain?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian stepped forward.
Salvatore blocked him.
Clara looked at her husband.
The hurt in her eyes was worse than fear.
“I need to know something.”
Sebastian swallowed.
“What?”
“When your mother put me under that table…”
His face fell.
“Clara—”
“Did you know she was trying to make me leave?”
He hesitated.
Too long.
Clara closed her eyes.
Salvatore looked at Sebastian.
“You knew.”
“I knew she wanted us separated.”
Clara opened her eyes.
“How long?”
“Two months.”
Her face changed completely.
“You let me think I was losing my mind.”
“No.”
“You told me I imagined the way she treated me.”
“I was trying to calm things.”
“You were helping her.”
“I thought she was protecting us.”
“From what?”
“I didn’t know.”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“You never know anything until after it hurts me.”
Sebastian stepped closer.
“I love you.”
She looked at him.
“That is becoming the most useless sentence in this family.”
Salvatore felt the truth of it.
Sebastian stopped.
Clara removed her wedding ring.
She placed it in his hand.
“I’m not your wife tonight.”
He stared at the ring.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t touch me. You don’t decide for me. You don’t speak for me.”
His voice broke.
“Clara.”
“Earn the right to say my name.”
She turned away.
Salvatore did not smile.
This was not victory.
His daughter’s marriage was bleeding in front of him.
Still, it was her choice.
He respected it.
Anthony approached Salvatore quietly.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The man in the woods left this.”
A child’s wooden horse.
Old.
One wheel broken.
Salvatore recognized it immediately.
He had owned one exactly like it at thirteen.
On the bottom, burned into the wood:
V.C.
May you like
And underneath:
YOU REMEMBER THE WRONG BROTHER.
