BURY

THE SILVER RING

I didn't answer Damon's question.

Do you want to meet him, Lena? Or do you want me to tell him you died too?

The silver dagger between my collarbones was suddenly too heavy.

"Does he know I have the USB?" I whispered.

"He knows you exist. That's enough."

Damon pressed a button on his desk. The black glass turned clear. A live camera feed. The front gate.

A black Maybach. Two men in suits. And one man in the middle, older, sixty-ish, silver hair slicked back, wearing a white suit in the middle of winter like he owned the cold.

His hand on the gate. Silver ring. Family crest. Lion eating a heart.

Same as the security footage.

My stomach turned inside out.

"That's him," I said.

"That's my uncle, Vincent Valentino. Marco's father. My father's younger brother. He took the silver ring when my father died."

"Why does Marco wear no ring?"

"Because Marco hasn't earned one. He wants his father's."

Agatha was still in the doorway, hands shaking.

"Sir, he says he brought flowers for Miss Maya's sister."

Damon looked at me. Not as a boss. As a question.

"You said I was your personal assistant," I said, voice steadying. "So I should meet your family. Isn't that what assistants do?"

A flicker of pride in his black eyes.

"Wear the black coat from the closet. The long one. And the necklace. Don't take it off."

"And the gun?"

"Leave the gun. He will hug you. If he feels it, he will know you're scared."

He was right again. I hated that.

Two minutes later I was downstairs. Black wool coat, black suit underneath, silver dagger hidden but visible. Hair still back. No makeup. Foster-kid armor on top of Mafia widow drag.

Damon's hand was at the small of my back. Not possessive. Guiding. Like - _stay behind me slightly_.

The front doors opened. Cold air hit.

Vincent Valentino smiled with all his teeth. He was handsome the way a knife is handsome. Clean. Sharp. Old money cologne.

"Damon, my boy." He hugged Damon, patted his back hard. Then his eyes landed on me.

And he stopped smiling.

For half a second. Then the smile came back, bigger.

"And this must be Lena. Maya's sister."

Not foster sister. Sister. He knew.

He stepped toward me, arms open. I didn't move.

Damon's hand on my back pressed once. _Let him._

Vincent hugged me. One arm, tight, like an uncle. His other hand took my right hand and brought it to his mouth.

His lips were cold. Dry. He kissed my knuckles.

And whispered, so low only I could hear:

"You look just like her when she begged."

My blood stopped.

I didn't flinch. I had been slapped, left on curbs, told I was unwanted for twenty-one years. I knew how to not flinch.

I smiled.

"Does everyone in this family greet girls like that, or just the ones who kill them?"

Vincent's eyes widened. Then he laughed. Loud, booming.

"Oh, Damon! Where did you find this one? She has claws!"

Damon didn't laugh. His gold ring glinted as he pulled me back, just an inch, but enough that Vincent had to let go of my hand.

"She is under my protection, Uncle. She is grieving."

"Of course, of course. I brought lilies. White lilies. For Maya. Such a tragic overdose. Such a young girl, so much stress with numbers, you know? Numbers can kill you."

He snapped his fingers. One of his men brought a huge bouquet of white lilies. Funeral lilies. Same as were on Maya's casket. The one with the wrong body.

Agatha took them, face white.

Vincent kept looking at me. At my throat. At the silver dagger.

"Interesting necklace," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"Damon gave it to me," I said.

"Did he? Damon never gives jewelry. He gives contracts. Isn't that right, Damon?"

Damon stepped in front of me slightly. Shoulders blocking.

"You drove an hour to bring flowers, Uncle. Thank you. We have work. The audit Maya was doing - I'm finishing it with Lena's help."

The word audit. Vincent's smile finally cracked.

"Ah. The audit. Yes. Marco mentioned some files were missing. A black notebook? A USB? Did Maya happen to leave anything with you, dear?"

He was looking at me again. Over Damon's shoulder.

"No," I said. "She left me a note that said DON'T TRUST HIM EITHER. I thought she meant my landlord. Now I'm not so sure."

Silence. The black rocks in the garden didn't move.

Vincent stared. Then he reached out - slow - and touched the silver dagger at my throat with one finger. Just tapped it.

It swung.

"Be careful with that," he whispered. "Sharp things have a way of ending up in the wrong throat."

Damon's hand shot out and grabbed his uncle's wrist. Hard. Gold ring vs silver ring. Inches apart.

"Don't touch what's mine, Uncle."

It was quiet. Two lions. One with a gold crown, one with silver.

Vincent pulled his wrist free, chuckling.

"Yours? I thought she was your assistant."

"Everything in this house is mine," Damon said, voice flat. "Including my assistant."

Vincent looked at me one last time. Up and down. The black coat, the suit, the blade.

"You do look like her, you know. Same eyes. Same mouth. When she cried in my office that night - 2:14, I think it was - she said the same thing you did. 'Does everyone in this family kill girls?'"

He said it loud enough for everyone to hear this time.

My hand went to my throat. To the dagger.

Damon went completely still.

"What did you say?"

Vincent smiled. "I said she was emotional. Overdose does that. Makes people paranoid."

He turned to leave, then stopped at the door.

"Oh, Lena? If you find that black notebook, you bring it to me first, yes? Family business. Before you show Damon. After all - DON'T TRUST HIM EITHER - maybe she meant both of us."

The gates closed. The Maybach left.

I couldn't breathe until Agatha locked the front doors.

Damon didn't move. His back to me, fists clenched, gold ring cutting into his palm.

"He killed her," I whispered. "He just told me he killed her."

"No," Damon said, voice low and shaking, not with fear, with rage. "He told you _how_ she begged."

He turned around. His eyes were black. Not red from no sleep. Black from murder.

"I need to kill him, Lena. Right now. And I can't. Because if I kill him now, Marco takes the family and we both die."

"So what do we do?"

He stepped toward me, cupped my face with both hands, forehead to mine. His hands were shaking.

"We do what Maya did. We count. We audit. You and me. Tonight. We open every file she marked with red pen and we find where the money went. Because wherever it went, it went to him."

His thumb brushed my lower lip. Rough.

"He touched your necklace. He kissed your hand. Are you okay?"

I should have said no. I should have cried.

Instead I pulled the dagger from my throat, twisted the ruby top off, showed him the tiny blade.

"I wanted to stick this in his eye when he kissed me."

Damon laughed. Once. Sharp.

"God, Lena."

Then his office phone rang. Loud. Internal line.

Agatha's voice, panicked through the speaker: "Mr. Valentino - the safe in your office - it's open. The black notebook - it's gone."

Damon and I looked at each other.

The USB was still in my pocket from upstairs.

But Maya's black notebook - the one with all the offshore numbers - someone had taken it while we were downstairs greeting the man who killed her.

And the only people in the house were me, Damon, Agatha...

And Marco, who had a key.

Damon grabbed my hand and ran.