Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Stop,” I say, holding up my hand. “Just stop. If this has to do with the Crow, then I have a right to know too. We’re not doing the whole ‘let’s go talk in private while Saylor waits in the hall like a good little girl’ thing.”
Blue closes his mouth, looking slightly put out.
“So what did you get done?” I ask Ash.
“I managed to bribe the Crow responsible for guarding the roads and perimeters around Brutus’s hideout,” he explains. “Had some past contacts with a few of them from when I was a Crow. Turns out some of them hate Brutus as much as I do.”
“And?” I lean forward.
“We can move in tonight without being detected.” Ash grins. “Time for revenge.”
Finally. Finally, we’re going to make them pay for Hans, for Dad, for everything they’ve stolen from us.
“I’m coming,” I announce immediately.
“No,” Blue says, his tone carrying that edge that usually makes people obey without question. “You’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Blue’s jaw tightens. “Saylor, this isn’t—” He stops, runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t watch another person I’m supposed to protect die because I wasn’t careful enough.”
The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This isn’t about my capabilities. This is about Hans. About Peter. About everyone he’s lost.
“Hans died protecting me,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “My father was murdered by these same bastards. How is this not my fight?”
“You can’t even see blood without passing out,” Blue points out, which stings because he’s absolutely right. “You’re not equipped for combat.”
The honesty cuts deeper than I want to admit, but it doesn’t change anything fundamental. “I’m still going.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
We stare at each other across the foyer, and I can see him trying different arguments in his head, discarding each one as it occurs to him. Wren stands frozen by the door like she’s watching a tennis match, and Ash appears to be trying not to laugh.
“These aren’t the men from my basement,” Blue says finally. “This is real combat. Real violence. People are going to die, and it’s going to be messy and brutal and—”
“And I want to be there for it.” I step closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. “It’s not just Hans that needs revenge, Blue. My father’s death hasn’t been fully avenged either. These are the same people on my list. And even if they weren’t on the list, they are still the Crow. The same organization that murdered the only family I had left.”
I can see him processing this, weighing it against his need to protect me.
“I’m going,” I say again, softer this time but no less determined. “This is my choice.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The standoff stretches until Ash throws his hands up in exasperation.
“Fuuuuuuck, she’s going!” he declares. “Blue, you’ve been outmaneuvered. Accept defeat gracefully.”
Blue turns his glare on Ash, who just grins back without an ounce of concern. But I can see something in Blue’s posture shifting, the fight going out of him as he realizes he’s lost this particular battle.
“Fine,” Blue says finally, the word coming out like it tastes bitter. “But you follow orders. No heroics, no improvisation, no getting yourself killed because you want to prove a point.”
“Deal,” I say immediately, before he can change his mind.
“We move at midnight.”
The finality in his voice should feel like victory, but something doesn’t sit right. I watch Blue’s face—the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands have already curled into fists like he’s preparing for battle. He’s going to walk into that hideout expecting to die. Expecting this to be some kind of redemption through violence.
That’s not what I want.
“Wait,” I say, the idea forming even as I speak. “What if there’s another way? Another way where vengeance can . . . taste better.”
Blue and Ash both turn to look at me, curiosity replacing the tension.
“I’m listening,” Blue says carefully.
I take a breath, knowing what I’m about to suggest is insane. But it’s also perfect.
“But the plan does require both of us to die,” I add, watching his face for his reaction.
Chapter Forty-One
Saylor
The mirror in Vespera’s workshop reflects someone I barely recognize.
Gone is the girl who sang at White Note in sequined dresses and hoped nobody would notice she was falling apart. The woman staring back at me has sharp cheekbones courtesy of expert contouring, lips painted dark enough to look like dried blood, and eyes so dramatically lined they could cut glass. Vespera has given me a wig that transforms my dark hair to platinum blonde, sleek and straight in a way that completely changes the shape of my face.
“Stop fidgeting,” Vespera says, making final adjustments to the wig that’s giving me this new identity. “You look perfect. Dangerous and beautiful—exactly what we need.”
The dress she’s chosen makes me look like I belong at the kind of party where people disappear forever. Black silk that hugs every curve, with a neckline just suggestive enough to be distracting. The heels add four inches to my height and make me feel like I could step on someone’s throat without breaking stride.