Nathan spread his hands. “I don’t know what you think happened.”
“I think you knew she was here.”
“That’s insane.”
“I think you knew before I broke the lock.”
Nathan’s face hardened. “Careful.”
Dominic laughed once. It held no humor.
“Careful?” he said. “You’re standing in a room where my housekeeper was left to die, and you’re warning me?”
Nathan’s eyes changed then. The softness disappeared. The brotherly concern vanished like a mask pulled from wet skin.
“You always were dramatic,” Nathan said.
Marcus took half a step forward, but Dominic lifted a hand.
Nathan noticed and smiled faintly.
“There it is,” he said. “Even now, you think you control the room.”
Dominic’s pistol remained at his side. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Nathan looked around the wine cellar, at the shattered lock on the floor, at the rack where Mia had been tied, at the dark stains beneath it. Then he sighed, almost regretfully.
“Mia was never supposed to be hurt.”
Dominic’s fingers tightened around the gun.
Nathan continued, “She heard something she shouldn’t have. Claire panicked.”
“Claire did this?”
“Claire found her listening near the cellar door. I was in Albany. By the time I got back, Mia was already locked inside.”
Dominic studied him.
It sounded too clean.
Too convenient.
Nathan had always known exactly how much truth to wrap around a lie.
“What did Mia hear?” Dominic asked.
Nathan did not answer.
Above them, footsteps rushed through the house. Doors opened. Men called to one another. Somewhere, a woman screamed Claire’s name.
Then Marcus’s radio cracked.
“She’s gone,” Daniel’s voice said. “Claire’s room is empty.”
Nathan smiled.
Dominic put the gun to his chest.
“Start talking.”
Nathan did not move. “You won’t shoot me.”
Dominic’s thumb pulled the hammer back.
Nathan’s smile faded.
“You won’t,” he said again, but this time it was less certain.
A crash echoed from behind the wine racks.
Both men turned.
Marcus swung his weapon toward the sound.
Dominic followed the noise to the far wall, where old shelves sagged under French labels and dust. Behind one broken bottle, the stones looked different. New mortar. Fresh scrape marks. A line in the wall too straight to be natural.
Dominic stared.