Page 134 of Pink Ink

He’s forlorn when he says, “No.”

Could it really just have been a simple car accident? Is there anything I’m not seeing? “How many assassins or killers—or whatever you call it—are there?”

Maddox runs his hand through his hair. “More than I’m aware of. People who aren’t trained killers can be made to kill. People who aren’t members of the Order can be coerced and blackmailed into doing things they’d never otherwise do.”

Even if I did receive a set of names, what would I do with it? I’d be going up against a secret society that doles out murders like it’s nobody’s business.

I was following a serial killer around; I wasn’t trying to hunt one down. I’m not the type to go on a quest for revenge. If my dad was murdered, I’d like to know the reason to understand his life. Beyond that? I can’t bring him back, but maybe if I did know who killed him, I could bring him to justice. I’m not sure what Mom would have wanted. The truth feels more important to me.

A sickening thought hits me. “Could he have been one of your—theirassassins?”

That could be why he was never around. He was too busy going off and doing what he loved—killing people—instead of spending time with his family.

Or maybe it wasn’t safe to be around us, and he really did want to be closer but couldn’t. Is that forgivable? Letting Mom die heartbroken because he would rather keep pulling triggers than do what needed to be done to make us a family.

Maddox almost looks guilty. “It’s possible. The Order hides their weapons. I could walk past one of them on the street and not know who they are. You aren’t meant to see the grim reaper coming.”

Nausea churns in my stomach. I feel so hopeless.

“Who decides who lives or dies?” It’s disturbing how corrupt this world is. I don’t know what’s real anymore.

“Any of the six high saints or the grand magistrate,” Maddox answers.

“Is there a way to find out if someone from the Order killed my dad?” My voice comes out more vulnerable than I’d like, and the corners of his eyes soften.

“If there is, I’m not aware of it.” The weight of his stare fixes on me like he’s making sure that he has my full attention. “But I could check the Order’s and the university’s records for your father’s name.”

The offer takes me by surprise. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“I…” I clear my throat. “I would appreciate that.”

I’m only agreeing because I want to leave no stone unturned. Not because it’s an excuse to see him again, or because I’m hungry for his attention.

Maybe I’ll never find out whether my dad was involved, but knowing what I stumbled upon is a start. Wiping any trace of emotion off my face, I look Maddox dead in the eyes. “Tell me everything else.”

And he does—after some grumbling and glaring from both sides. He tells me about their monthly meetings, the hierarchical structure, all he does for the Order, and that he has many more victims not even I’d be able to link back to him. He tells me about how the world is a giant game of chess, and the Order is the one calling the moves. Why he was forced to agree to the engagement to Abi, and why their parents are pushing it for the sake of reelection.

But mainly, he explains that every bit of hurt he inflicted upon me was to keep Spencer from venturing down the dark path that’s slowly killing Maddox, and because he’s frightened of what the Order or his father might do to me.

It’s like a cloud dissipates with every new piece of information, and light streams through. I should feel heavier from the weight of the truth, but it’s oddly liberating. This is what I always wanted: to be let into the fold and trusted.

For a second, it’s like I’m turning a page. Someone is seeing my value as a person.

I know he isn’t telling me out of the goodness of his heart. Maddox probably thinks I’ll keep pushing until I find something, and maybe he cares about me just enough that he doesn’t want me to die in the process.

It’s easier to tell myself we could never be together because of those chess pieces. It hurts less that way. That flicker of hope needs to be extinguished forever. No amount of praying and crossing my fingers will change that his brother’s livelihood hangs in the balance between us.

I get it.

Maddox and I were never meant to be. It’s not a question of fate; it’s a fact. There are eight billion people in the world, and the one person who could fill the void is the one person I can’t have. Not like he wants me anyway. He said so himself.

Maybe I’ll get over this, grow old, and look back at the time I thought I could feel whole because of Maddox. Or maybe I’ll be like Mom, a shadow of herself because her other half wasn’t there to make her complete.

I feel like a kid begging for my parents’ attention again, and I hate it.

I need to move on from Maddox and accept that some people weren’t made to be loved. If he finds information about my dad, he can email me or something. Otherwise, I can’t keep sitting here, tormenting myself by listening to him talk as if we’re okay.