Page 86 of Breakaway
But what else made sense?
“You want out of the Society,” I said. I didn’t make it a question, hoping to catch her off guard.
“Excuse me?” she screeched, her voice going so high pitched my ears rang. She leaned forward, recovering from her outburst. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re way off base, Mr. Cromwell.”
“Am I, though? You’re awfully unhappy for someone who supposedly likes their club and believes in it. Your entire body language screams discomfort and a desire to be anywhere but here. You hate someone… I’m just not sure who.”
She gaped at me, opening and closing her mouth as she stared. Finally, she seemed to gather herself, sitting up straight with her chin lifted. The Arbitrator peered around the room and leaned forward once she felt it was safe.
“Who sent you here? Who are you working for?” she hissed.
“No one.”
“I don’t believe you. Why else would you assume I’m plotting against the Society?”
“I never said those words. Just that you want out. I’m guessing Henley had something to do with your plan.” I waited, letting my words sink in. She didn’t say anything, her eyes searing into me. My brain calculated all the possibilities and dangers, and whether I could trust her.
Ultimately, I knew it was a calculated risk to take, but I trusted the others would support me.
She gritted her teeth, not saying anything more. I’d clearly rattled the woman, and I knew I wouldn’t get any information from her until I gave her a reason.
“Listen, I think we might have more in common than you realize, Pippa.”
She froze, her eyes widening as she stared at me. “How do you know my name?” She stood, pressing her hands into the table, and was one more statement away from bolting.
“At first, I thought your whole ‘we got off to the wrong foot’ mumbo was bullshit. I’ll be honest. But now I’m wondering if maybe you’re right. We both have half of a puzzle, and it doesn’t make sense without the other. I don’t like you, and I don’t like the Society. However, I think we could help one another and maybe be allies in whatever it is that’s happening. But first, we have to trust one another to get there.”
“Why would I trust you?”
“I could ask the same.” I lifted my eyebrow now, daring her.
“So, we’re at an impasse. We won’t trust each other despite your big speech,” she said, huffing and crossing her arms.
“Wrong. I will trust you, hoping your familial connection is strong.”
“What do you know about my family?” Her words came out harsh, her eyes narrowing, and it was all the answer I needed. She cared about someone, which meant she wasn’t a complete psychopath, right?
“Your sister, Matilda.” Her face went white, and I could’ve sworn her eyes became teary.
“She’s dead. How dare you bring her up!” she whispered-yelled.
I nodded. “Yes. But do you know how she died?”
She shook her head. “We were told complications from surgery. Not much information was provided, and we were only given her ashes. We hadn’t seen Matilda in a few years, so we were glad to have that piece of her. What do you know?” she pleaded, her posture changing.
“Are you going to trust me?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll tell you whatever you want about the Society, but…” She looked around, schooling her features as she peered around. “Just not here.”
“Fine with me. But Henley gets to be present at the next one. It’s her story to tell, anyway.”
Pippa’s eyes widened again before she wiped at them and pulled her no-nonsense mask back on. “Are you staying nearby?”
I gave a wry chuckle. “No. We learned our lesson. All these little bully attempts to break us haven’t been working.”
“Wait, what?” she asked, looking genuinely confused.
“The psychological warfare the Society has been doing. The early morning fire alarms on game day, losing our reservation at the hotel, and food poisoning at our last game.”