Page 4 of Sins of Innocence

That's what the medical examiner said, but the reason he gave was a lot different than this one. A broken sound escapes my throat. I cover my mouth with both hands. "No..."

"I tried to stop it."

My head jerks up. "You—"

"I argued for mercy."

Did he? Do men in the mob do that on behalf of a rat? I don't know. I want to believe someone stood up for Troy. Even if they failed.

Kenneth slides a folded handkerchief across the table.

"I lost a good employee."

Employee. Not soldier. Not mobster. Employee. As generic as it is, the word is almost comforting.

"I don't understand."

"I know."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because someone needs to."

The answer feels honest. "The FBI wanted me to help them."

"Yes."

"I'll never help them." My girls need one parent at least who lives to raise them into adulthood.

Kenneth studies me carefully. "You mean that."

"Yes."

I can't tell if he thinks that's a good or bad thing based on his expression. It has to be a good thing, right? He can't want me talking to the FBI. Even if I literally don't know anything.

Except what he just told me.

He thinks he's doing me a favor. Being honest so I know the truth. I wish I didn't know the truth. It feels like this kind of knowledge is dangerous. For me. For my girls.

Pushing my chair back, I say, "I need to go."

But Kenneth shakes his head before I can lever my heavily pregnant body into a standing position. "I'm not done. I want to help you, Áine."

"I…" I don't know what I want to say. I only know I want to go.

Right now.

"Do you know what happens if the underboss believes someone might become a risk to our organization?" Kenneth asks me, almost gently.

Fear coils in my stomach. "No."

"He removes the risk."

I stop breathing. "My girls..."

"They're safe."

"For now?"