Chapter 7
By midday, the estate’s private medical wing was quiet and warm. The bright autumn sun washed across the white linen sheets where Estelle lay propped against three down pillows. The color had begun to return to her rosy cheeks, an intravenous drip steadily restoring her strength, while Greta sat quietly by the bedside, peeling fresh apples into a porcelain bowl.
The heavy oak door opened, and Cassian stepped inside.
He had changed out of his bloodstained trousers into a clean charcoal suit, his three-piece ensemble immaculate, his hair combed back. He walked to the side of the bed, his stern features melting into a gentle smile as his mother turned her head toward him.
“How is the broth, Mama?” Cassian asked softly, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“It tastes like home, my boy,” Estelle answered, her voice still weak, but clear and steady. She reached out, taking his large hand between both of hers. Her cloudy blue eyes looked into his with terrifying sharpness. “You dealt with Brennan?”
Cassian paused, his thumb gently smoothing the back of her paper-thin hand. “He is in the holding cells, Mama. The family council convenes at sunset.”
Estelle closed her eyes, a heavy sigh escaping her chest. “Your father used to say that when a branch of the tree rots, you don't prune the leaves. You cut the branch clean at the trunk before it poisons the fruit.”
“I remember, Mama.”
“Brennan was weak from the day he was born,” Estelle whispered, opening her eyes, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “He was always jealous of your shadow. But Lavinia… Lavinia was the poison. She whispered in his ear every night. She brought men into this house while you were away, Cassian.”
Cassian’s hand tightened slightly around hers. “What men, Mama?”
“Men with silver pins on their collars,” Estelle said, her memory sharpening with sudden, vivid clarity. “The Falco captains. Two of them were in the library on Monday night. I heard them through the heating grate in my room. They weren't just planning to take the shipping routes, Cassian.”
Greta stopped her knife mid-peel, looking up with wide, frightened eyes.
“What were they planning, Mama?” Cassian asked, his voice dropping into that chilling, quiet register.
“They were planning to hit your convoy on the return drive from Chicago,” Estelle murmured, turning her head to look straight into her son’s eyes. “They had an ambush set on the interstate near the state line. Four heavy trucks with armor plating. Brennan gave them your security frequencies.”
A cold chill swept through the warm bedroom.
Cassian understood in an instant why his early return had shattered their plans. He had changed his travel arrangements at the last second, chartering a private prop plane directly into a local airstrip instead of taking the interstate convoy, entirely unaware that he had bypassed a fatal kill zone by three hours.
Cassian stood up, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to his mother’s temple.
May you like
“Thank you, Mama,” Cassian said softly. “You just saved thirty of my men.”
He turned to Greta. “Lock this door from the inside, Greta. Keep two armed guards in the foyer. I am going to the council room.”
