Page 37 of Broken Trust
Kennedy had already turned back to her open laptop, dismissing him without another word. Mason shook off his thoughts and headed for Elin’s room.
He knocked softly. “Elin? It’s me. I brought food.”
Silence.
“I know you’re in there. And I know you haven’t eaten since…” He tried to remember when he’d last seen her eat. “Yesterday, probably.”
The door opened a crack, and she peered out at him. Her eyes were rimmed with the strain of staring at screens nonstop, and his heart clenched at the sight.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad.” He shouldered the door open gently, not forcing it but not backing down either. “You need to eat.”
She retreated into the room, and he followed, setting the tray on the footlocker at the end of the bed.
She curled up in the stiff-backed chair by the window. The mansion might be filled with expensive finishes, windows and floors, but the furnishings were all military-issue, cold and uncomfortable at best.
Seeing her with her knees drawn to her chest, looking smaller than he’d ever seen her, made him ache in ways he couldn’t put words to.
“I ruined his life.” She stared out the window, but he knew she wasn’t seeing the vast yard. “Charles Silverton. He was just doing his job, following orders, and now his family doesn’t know where he is. His kids are probably terrified.”
Mason crossed to her, crouching down so he was at eye level. Christ, he wanted to touch her, to comfort her. But he sensed she would withdraw further inside herself.
“You didn’t ruin anything. You saved lives.”
“Did I? Or did I just traumatize an innocent man?”
“Elin.” He kept his voice gentle but firm. “That innocent man was unknowingly part of a network that would’ve blown up a significant chunk of Canada. You’d feel a hell of a lot worse if you hadn’t stopped it.”
She looked at him then,reallylooked at him, and the pain in her eyes nearly undid him. “Would I? Because right now I feel pretty terrible.”
He stood and retrieved the tray, bringing it over to her. He set it on a small side table. “Eat first. Then we can discuss your guilt complex.”
“I don’t have a guilt complex.”
“Says the woman who’s blaming herself for saving lives.” He held out half a sandwich. “Come on. One bite.”
She took it reluctantly, and he watched her eat. With each bite, some color returned to her cheeks, and the tremor in her hands eased.
When she finished the sandwich and most of the fruit, he moved to sit on the floor beside her chair, his back against the wall. Close enough to touch, but giving her space.
“He’ll be okay,” Mason said quietly. “Silverton. Once we verify he’s not knowingly involved, he’ll go home to his family.”
“After we terrorized him.”
“After we saved him from being an unwitting accomplice to mass murder.”
She was quiet for a moment, then slid from the chair to sit beside him on the floor. Not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel her warmth.
“I hate this,” she whispered. “I hate that Cipher uses innocent people. I hate that we have to traumatize them to stop it. I hate all of it.”
Without thinking, Mason put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, her head finding that spot on his shoulder that seemed made for her. They fit together like they always had, two pieces of a puzzle that had been separated but never stopped belonging together.
“I know.” His lips brushed her hair. “But what you’re doing—finding these handlers, uncovering the network—is going to save so many lives.”
She was quiet for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep. Then she shifted slightly, adjusting but not pulling away.
“Elin…” He stopped.
