Page 61 of Benji

Dom grabbed my arm before the elevator stopped. “Look, Nolan. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but your priorities?—”

“My priorities?” I snapped at him. My priorities should have been the legal case. My priorities should have been ensuring Bruno Barbieri was put away for a long time. That was what we’d been working so hard for the past year for.

But they weren’t. My priorities, in that moment, had never been clearer.

“He is my priority,” I said.

The elevator doors opened and I raced to my front door.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dom mumbled as he followed me.

Not waiting for him, I unlocked my door, leaving it open as I pushed in. “Benji?”

He was on the couch, book in hand, and relief slammed into me as soon as I saw him.

“Hey,” he said, getting to his feet. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything?—”

I collected him in a hug. “Thank god you’re okay.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and when I let go of him,we both noticed Dom now standing inside, holding the manila folder.

Benji took a step back, his face paling, the book in his hand forgotten.

I grabbed his elbow. “It’s okay, Benj. It’s okay.”

He shook his head, his wide eyes on me. The fear I saw in his eyes...

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re not in trouble.”

“We need to talk though,” Dom said. He walked over to the dining table, put the manila folder down, and took a seat.

I took the book from Benji, dumped it onto the couch, and slid my arm around his back. He was stiff and scared, so I pressed my lips to his forehead. “It’ll be okay,” I murmured. I rubbed his back for a second, then took his hand and led him to the table.

He came willingly, as if he was on autopilot.

Defeated.

I sat beside him, both of us opposite Dom, and kept our joined hands on Benji’s thigh, my grip tight.

Dom opened the folder. The file name—Benji’s real name—and the photograph of his mother’s funeral on top.

Benji looked at them, then looked up, motionless. His face a mask of blank sadness.

“You know we’re lawyers for the ODPP, I assume,” Dom said. He was using his courtroom voice. Confident, stern, abrasive. I’d always admired the way he controlled the narrative, but I didn’t like it as much now.

Benji didn’t answer. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“Then you should know the case we’re currently working on is the state against Bruno Barbieri.”

Benji slow blinked, and I squeezed his hand. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “Benji, I didn’t know.”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

“You went off the grid,” Dom continued. “Never accessed your bank accounts, phone, or contacted friends or family.”

“Of course he didn’t,” I answered for him. “His family was the reason he left.”

Dom’s gaze cut to me in that unimpressed-lawyer way he did best. “The police had reason to believe he’s dead, Nolan. Missing person, at least.”