The Knight (Endgame #2)(47)

“The brothel,” he says, voice carefree, but I feel the tension in his body. Muscles hard, pulse beating faster. “That’s a nice word for the dirty old building where men hurt women.”

I swallow hard. What kind of initiation into sex did he have? Mine was unconventional, no doubt. The auction itself had been humiliating. But Gabriel had always been gentle with my body. He showed me pleasure from the very first time.

“How did you lose your virginity?”

A cruel smile. “How do you think? With one of the girls, of course.”

“You paid her?”

“No, that was a gift from dear old dad. I only found that out after the fact. A fourteen-year-old boy doesn’t ask many question when a beautiful woman shows him her tits. Which is a fucking shame.”

“Did anyone…” I force the words out quickly. “Did anyone hurt you?”

He’s silent a moment. “Not like you mean. My father insisted I work for him, but not with sex. With fists. Knives. Guns. If someone didn’t want to pay, it was my job to convince them.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I was damn good at it. Business was never better.”

“Oh, Gabriel.”

“Don’t look at me with pity,” he says with a harsh laugh. “It was my job to keep the girls in line, too. If one of them mouthed off to a customer or wouldn’t do what they wanted, I had to show them the light.”

I’m afraid to ask, but I have to know. It comes as a whisper, hesitant. “How?”

Our gazes meet. “I hurt them.”

Something in my heart cracks. “No.”

“Yes,” he says forcefully. “I held their wrists too hard, looked into their eyes, and promised to bury their bodies if they didn’t do what we told them.”

Tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t want to think I had illusions about Gabriel Miller, but I know that I must have. Because they’re broken, shattered. Laying in shards around me, glittering reminders that he’s every bit as dangerous as he warned me.

“How could you?” There’s less anger in my voice than I want. More pain.

“Because it was true,” he snaps. “My father would have broken their neck without a thought. And I would have known that I could’ve prevented it. If only I was harder with them.”

It was his way of protecting them. No wonder he was so harsh with me.

“Why did you leave?”

“I left to make my own money, my own fucking way. And no one can tell me who to threaten. Maybe a good man would have stopped hurting people completely, but not me.”

“You did it on your own terms,” I say sadly, understanding him with futile sorrow. That’s why he had to go after my father. It’s why he had to come after me. The one thing he wants more than anything in the world—not money, not things. The ability to choose who he hurts.

I pick up a pawn from the rug. Offer it to him.

He accepts with a solemn expression. “The person who bought your house? Jonathan Scott. That was when I realized the connection. I confronted him, and he admitted the truth.”

“He bought it in memory of her?”

“Or to prove something.”

“To prove what?”

“That she was right all along, that something sinister was happening in that house.”

I move to the carpet, picking up the chess piece. Placing them in haphazard groups on the side table, needing to do something with my hands. The wood is smooth and cool, emotionless. That’s how I wish I could be right now. Instead I’m a wildfire of fear and hope.

Then all the pieces are back on the table. Except the dark wood king, rolled far away.

“How can he prove it?” I ask.

Gabriel looks reluctant to answer. He puts his elbow on his knee, staring at the king. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to go to the house.”

My eyes widen. The same thing that Nina told me. Why do they think I’ll go there? Something must be happening—there. At the house. I stand and cross the room, hand-scraped wood cold against my feet, and pick up the last piece.

I stand in front of Gabriel, offering. “Don’t protect me, shield me. As if I can’t handle it. As if I can’t fight too. Lead me into battle, and I’ll follow you.”

Fighting beside him—that’s the ultimate victory for me. Not helplessness.

After a moment he takes the king from me. “He’s holding a ball. Everyone in Tanglewood society is involved. He believes the person responsible for her death will come.”

“My father can’t even get out of bed.”

Gabriel meets my eyes. “Then he won’t be there.”

But I can hear from his voice that he doesn’t believe that. “Even if he could get up, why would he attend a ball? When it would prove his guilt to Jonathan Scott?”

A grim smile. “To face your mother’s lover? In the house he built for her?”

“Pride,” I say, bitter and resigned.

“No, little virgin. Love. It makes men do terrible things.”

“Like taking me to the ball?” I ask softly.

“Terrible things,” he murmurs his agreement. “Like risk his queen.”





Chapter Thirty-One