My Protector | His Angel

Chapter 44: Looking for Answers

The cold hard wood tingled against the bottoms of my bare feet as I lightly stepped towards the north wing. With every ancient painting that I passed, the shame of what I was doing grew. I glanced up at a wall of rusted barbaric weapons which sent a chill down my spine.

The entire estate seemed to be as quiet as it would be on Christmas morning. Most of the guards were home with their lovers, leaving just a few people behind who were all too drunken to be awake. 

As I turned the corner to enter the north wing, Peters corner, another shiver ran down my spine. Goosebumps formed on my bare forearms and I briskly continued to step through the shadows towards the library. I glanced at Peter's closed bedroom door and let out a slight sigh of relief as there was no sign of light escaping the small crack on the bottom. My fingers gently wrapped around the cold key that I snuck from Annette's laundry room and slid it into the lock. The key slipped slightly out of my sweaty and nervous hands but finally turned, unlocking a room of potential answers. 

My stomach seemed to bubble and overflow with nerves as I slipped into the dark room. Only the faint moonlight that reached through the window lit up he room. I glanced over at the unoccupied desk and turned on my phones light. Bookcases lined the walls of the room, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. I stared at the jewel toned spines with gold leafing that were neatly organized on the shelves.

The old oak desk from across the room called me from entrance. If there was one spot worth looking in this library, it was in that desk. I stared at the neatly piled papers on top of the desk with what looked like a business report. There was no computer, only a lamp and mug of pens and highlighters. I cursed at the top drawer that was locked, and then the second, and finally the third. I grabbed the mug of pens and dumped everything out, including a single paperclip. I unfolded the paperclip and slipped it into the key hole of the drawer, jiggling it around in every way possible until I heard a gentle click. 

In the top drawer was nothing but what looked like more business reports. I opened the second drawer which had a pistol along with more pens and highlighters. Interesting, but not exactly what I was looking for. 

I slid open the final drawer. Jackpot. Multiple manila envelopes were filed in alphabetical order of different families around the globe. Number one being nobody else but the Angeline family. I pulled it out, along with the Franco file. 

The smug smile on my face dropped, as did my heart, when I opened up my family file. There, on the front page, was a photo of my face. This felt all too familiar. Peter wasn't supposed to know about my status in the Angeline mafia. Nobody was.

My heart literally felt like it had stopped and my lungs felt as tight as balloon being blown up for the first time. I stared at my own face, that in return stared right back at me until I shut the file. 

In an attempt to escape what I had just seen, I looked up from the desk, and locked eyes with a familiar shadow that emerged from the doorway. My heart jumped out of my chest and lodged itself in my throat.

"Ms. McQueen.." Peter walked into a ray of moonlight, illuminating his chiseled face. A small gasp escaped my lips which was enough of a response for him. "You have been here not even a full week and you are already poking your nose in places that it does not belong. Were you not advised to stay out of the north wing?" His accent was thick but I had no trouble understanding his smooth words. 

"I- I-" I stumbled over my own words as my eyes fell from the harsh lines of his face down to the bare skin of his tanned chest. He wore nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, but what caught my eye the most was a large scar across the lower portion of his abdomen. My eyes regretfully looked back up at his face, its construction painfully resembling Killian's. 

"You have no right to be in here." He took another step towards me. I was at a loss for words. I had no excuse for why I was in here. I hadn't thought that far, because well... I wasn't supposed to get caught. 

As Peter approached the desk I stood, causing the files that were sitting in my lap to fall to the ground. Slipping beside my foot was a photo of Killian from what must have been his university graduation. My heart ached as I looked down at his smile. It was a rare sight which only made it more precious and valuable. 

Suddenly the moonlight shifted over the desk, causing a ray of light to reflect on the silver pistol I had come across earlier. Without another thought I snatched the pistol from the drawer but froze to the sound of another gun loading.

"Ms. Richards" Peter let out a deep chuckle. "Put that measly little thing down."

"If its so measly, why are you scared enough to pull-" I froze mid sentence. "Wait," I cocked my head and took a step back. What did he just call me?

"Put the gun down." Peter repeated.

"You first!" I croaked. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Peter slowly dropped his hands to his side, returning the gun in the holster. "Your turn." His brown eyebrows raised above his brown eyes, challenging me to make the wrong move. 

I sighed and set the gun down on the desk in front of me and he smiled, stepping forward to snatch it up. 

"Hey!" I protested.

"Calm down you child" Peter shook his head. "Im not going to kill you. That would be a death sentence for myself." 

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion but before I could ask anything he grabbed onto my elbow. "Come with me" Peter's voice turned cold and commanding as if I even had a choice and he pulled me even deeper in the library. 

I debated screaming or looking around for a thick book to hit him over the head with, but he was already ahead of my thoughts. 

"The library is soundproof, and there is not a single weapon in this library that you can use on me."

I huffed but didn't say much of anything else. 

We kept walking through the bookshelves until we came to the back wall of the library. Peter pulled the spine of a plain old emerald green book. There was nothing special about the book, there was no intricate gold detailing, and no title. Except when Peter pulled on this book a deep rumble developed behind the bookcase and all of a sudden it was twisting inwards to reveal a hidden room. 

Oh hell no. There is no way in hell that I am going to become a captive.

I stared into the room as Peter took a step forward, pulling me into what was an office, not a dungeon. One large desk sat in the middle with two computer screens on it and a laptop. Oak cabinets lined the walls but the walls were bare. No personal photos, no old family paintings; nothing. 

I followed Peter's guidance into the room as if I even had a choice. I was doubtful that he would lock me up in the room that seemed to have all of the answers. Besides, there was no way I was going to slip out between him and the doorway since he took up the entire space.

"Sit" He let go of my elbow and pointed at a small leather arm chair facing the desk. He wasn't a man of many words. I sat on the edge of the seat as he walked around the desk and sat at it, opening his laptop. Moments went by and I questioned why I was even here. I debated opening my mouth multiple times but I didn't even know what I would say. It was just silence. 

But then I remembered why I was here. Killian was locked up somewhere and I had to know where. I had to save him. But then my mind challenged itself. Peter didn't seem like the person who would do this. Why wasn't he ripping my head off right now for snooping through his desk? Why did he already know I had risen to the top of the Angelines? How did he know it was me?

Peter looked up from the computer as if he had just heard my thoughts again. His deep brown eyes searching my own, digging around for some questions that he also had. 

"Tell me Ms. Richards, why did my dear brother send you here?".