avoid it.
And he understood it.
Because it was something he’d do himself.
Chapter 7
A ranka found deposit after deposit that were more than just a little sketch. Either this guy was dumber than a box of ghouls, or someone was trying really hard to make sure he looked guilty.
So the question was, why did the Headhunters want to make him look guilty?
Speaking with Pim, he didn’t seem to be stupid.
She thought about what Imre had said about the lengths she’d be willing to go to if she had to protect her family. If she thought no one would understand.
Part of her, the part that was raised a princess and knew sometimes you had to make hard choices said it didn’t matter. You did what you had to do and you lived with the consequences, but maybe Imre’s way was the right way. Maybe when you loved someone, when they were family, they deserved the benefit of the doubt.
If someone were trying to set Pim up, what was their end goal? Was it only Pim’s death? Surely, the guilty party knew that would be the punishment for betrayal.
If Pim was guilty, what was his end goal? Surely, it couldn’t just be for the money? She scoured his financials looking for anything that might give her another clue. These deposits, while sketchy, weren’t enough reward to make the risk worthwhile.
Then it hit her, this account, while there were deposits made every two weeks, there were never any withdrawals. No debit card transactions, nothing. This account just sat there, getting fatter and fatter—enough to make Pim look incredibly guilty.
Something prickled along her spine, some strange awareness tugging at her bones.
Gold.
It called her, a siren song spinning pretty dreams.
Only, it wasn’t natural.
There was someone manipulating the gold—could it be father?
He wouldn’t know where she was. It had to be some kind of trick to lure her out of hiding. Aranka wouldn’t deny there was part of her that wanted to rush to the source of the sensation with the vain hope of saving her father, but logic prevailed.
Even if she did run off into the gold to find her father, then what? How could she save him? She’d end up getting caught and she’d put Imre at a disadvantage.
So, no. She’d wait for him. She’d trust in him and his promise that they’d do this together. She could do this.
They could do this.
But the longer he was gone, the harder it was to ignore that pull. The harder it was to think logically.
Her brain ran every scenario of every horrible thing that could have happened to her father. That this thing she felt coming from gold that didn’t belong was her father’s cry for help. That he was being tortured and she sat there, doing nothing, while he was dying—with that thought, she shut it down.
She was smart enough to know that if these messages had been coming from Glorfindel, he’d never make her feel anything like this. Even if the unthinkable had happened to him, he’d never blame her of Krysanthe for what happened to him.
This dark magick was tricky and foul, taking her worst fears and turning them against her. Taking her strengths, the ability to travel through the veins of gold, and making it something dark and terrible.
She’d never been so relieved as when she heard the door open and saw Imre step through it. It was as if every muscle that had coiled, every sense that had been jacked into high-alert was suddenly soothed by his presence.
Aranka threw herself into his arms. “It seemed like you were gone forever.”
“I told you I’d be back as soon I could.”
“I know.” She pressed her lips together. “But I can feel gold in the ground here. Gold that doesn’t belong.”
“I’ve got a meeting set for eight tonight at the Devil’s Due with the Headhunters.” He sighed. “I learned from the loup garou , the other shifters in the swamp that night, that the Headhunters have taken over the Knights.”
“And Pim must know that.” She nodded her head. “Except, here’s the thing.
And he understood it.
Because it was something he’d do himself.
Chapter 7
A ranka found deposit after deposit that were more than just a little sketch. Either this guy was dumber than a box of ghouls, or someone was trying really hard to make sure he looked guilty.
So the question was, why did the Headhunters want to make him look guilty?
Speaking with Pim, he didn’t seem to be stupid.
She thought about what Imre had said about the lengths she’d be willing to go to if she had to protect her family. If she thought no one would understand.
Part of her, the part that was raised a princess and knew sometimes you had to make hard choices said it didn’t matter. You did what you had to do and you lived with the consequences, but maybe Imre’s way was the right way. Maybe when you loved someone, when they were family, they deserved the benefit of the doubt.
If someone were trying to set Pim up, what was their end goal? Was it only Pim’s death? Surely, the guilty party knew that would be the punishment for betrayal.
If Pim was guilty, what was his end goal? Surely, it couldn’t just be for the money? She scoured his financials looking for anything that might give her another clue. These deposits, while sketchy, weren’t enough reward to make the risk worthwhile.
Then it hit her, this account, while there were deposits made every two weeks, there were never any withdrawals. No debit card transactions, nothing. This account just sat there, getting fatter and fatter—enough to make Pim look incredibly guilty.
Something prickled along her spine, some strange awareness tugging at her bones.
Gold.
It called her, a siren song spinning pretty dreams.
Only, it wasn’t natural.
There was someone manipulating the gold—could it be father?
He wouldn’t know where she was. It had to be some kind of trick to lure her out of hiding. Aranka wouldn’t deny there was part of her that wanted to rush to the source of the sensation with the vain hope of saving her father, but logic prevailed.
Even if she did run off into the gold to find her father, then what? How could she save him? She’d end up getting caught and she’d put Imre at a disadvantage.
So, no. She’d wait for him. She’d trust in him and his promise that they’d do this together. She could do this.
They could do this.
But the longer he was gone, the harder it was to ignore that pull. The harder it was to think logically.
Her brain ran every scenario of every horrible thing that could have happened to her father. That this thing she felt coming from gold that didn’t belong was her father’s cry for help. That he was being tortured and she sat there, doing nothing, while he was dying—with that thought, she shut it down.
She was smart enough to know that if these messages had been coming from Glorfindel, he’d never make her feel anything like this. Even if the unthinkable had happened to him, he’d never blame her of Krysanthe for what happened to him.
This dark magick was tricky and foul, taking her worst fears and turning them against her. Taking her strengths, the ability to travel through the veins of gold, and making it something dark and terrible.
She’d never been so relieved as when she heard the door open and saw Imre step through it. It was as if every muscle that had coiled, every sense that had been jacked into high-alert was suddenly soothed by his presence.
Aranka threw herself into his arms. “It seemed like you were gone forever.”
“I told you I’d be back as soon I could.”
“I know.” She pressed her lips together. “But I can feel gold in the ground here. Gold that doesn’t belong.”
“I’ve got a meeting set for eight tonight at the Devil’s Due with the Headhunters.” He sighed. “I learned from the loup garou , the other shifters in the swamp that night, that the Headhunters have taken over the Knights.”
“And Pim must know that.” She nodded her head. “Except, here’s the thing.
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