Before Another War

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alex, hugging her coat close, walked up to the house. It was vast and shining white—as always. She continued up the path, trying to shield her face from the wind and rain. She knew it wasn't a good idea to go alone but there was no chance she was leaving this to Morgan.

The key was gripped tightly against her palm as she walked. Maybe, she hoped, she could swap it for Nadia. Once they let her go, this whole nightmare would be over. And finally, the police would keep their noses out of her business. However, Alex had a feeling Nadia wouldn't be happy to lose something that valuable, but it didn't matter. After all, what's the point in having anything if you're not there to enjoy it?

She could remember back to when her father died. The police had left no stone unturned. Everyone was poked, prodded and hung out to dry. Her whole family was thought to be involved, especially with their history. Alex didn't want that again.

She knew Raf and Matt would have tried to stop her, saying it was too dangerous. But she wanted her life back. Her quiet life. The one she had made for herself. Then, she could bring up the baby. Maybe move somewhere nicer, closer to the country, if she got the choice. Alex decided she'd already had enough excitement for one lifetime, and looking after Sapphire for the past few days had made her realise just how much she wanted that.

She reached the steps to the door and hesitated. Maybe it was the wrong decision. She had no clue who these people were and if they would even be willing to let Nadia go. Still, Alex brushed away her concerns, urging herself on with courage she didn't know she had. She had the key, and the only way they were going to get it, was by letting her go.

Alex climbed the steps and rang the bell, her heart in her mouth. Maybe they won't answer. Maybe it wasn't even the right address. After all, no one would expect a criminal's house to be quite this nice, this clean. Rather stereotypically, Alex had been expecting a house full of drugs and dirty needles.

Alas, the lock clicked and the door swung open. Yet again, she found herself faced with Emilio.

'Oh,' he said, not trying to hide his surprise. 'You came.'

'What do you want to talk to me about?' She gritted her teeth.

Emilio smiled at her like she was the child and said, 'Come in.'

Alex took an uncertain step forward into the hall. Looking around, she was amazed by the splendour of it. Baroque paintings lined the white walls and there was a grand staircase snaking up to the second floor. As her shoes squeaked across the floor, she tried to take it all in. Alex hadn't been expecting anything like this. Just how rich were they?

'Hang your coat up there,' Emilio instructed, gesturing with his arm to the gold-plated coat rack. Relieved to be out of the rain, Alex began to feel more at ease. This place didn't feel dangerous. It felt too pleasant, too well looked after. No one ever came to any harm here—or so she thought.

'Come through.'

He pointed to a door on her left, opening it and stepping inside. Emilio held it open for her to pass through like he was some kind of dishevelled butler. Eagerly anticipating what was to come, Alex stepped through.

The next room was similar to the first, but was full of people. At least fifteen of them were crammed into a room no bigger than her flat. It was obvious who was in charge. He was lying lazily on a long red sofa with dark mahogany legs. The man would have appeared like a roman emperor, if not for his clothes, and, well, his physique.

Cyrille got up quickly as she entered, surprisingly limber.

'Good evening,' he said, a perfect gentleman. 'You are Alex, yes? I am Cyrille.' His voice was laced with a thick French accent.