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)
Elliott begins humming again, something that sounds vaguely funeral-esque. “We’re painting the roses red,” he murmurs dreamily, adding copper touches to his sugar flowers. “All the pretty roses red.”
I want to shake both of them. How can they be so calm about this?
Blue pays for a box of pastries that Ash wraps with the careful attention of someone packaging explosives, and we prepare to leave as if we didn’t just have the most bizarre—even terrifying—conversation possible. But the afternoon has given me a better sense of how Grimlock works, and more importantly, how Blue fits into it.
It seems as if death is . . . casual here.
As we prepare to leave, Elliott looks up from his work again. “Saylor,” he says, more focused than before. “Tonight will be . . . revealing. Grimlock parties usually are.”
“Revealing how?”
“You’ll see,” Elliott says simply, then returns to his decorating as if the conversation never happened.
Outside the bakery, I ask Blue, “What did he mean about revealing?”
“Elliott has a way of seeing patterns other people miss,” Blue says as we walk toward the main square. “He’s usually right about social dynamics.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“Because I don’t have one yet,” Blue admits. “But Elliott’s rarely wrong about these things.”
“What’s their story?” I ask as we walk away from the Upper Crust. “There’s something about Ash—the way he watches everything, positions himself to protect Elliott. And those tattoos . . .”
Blue glances back at the bakery. “Elliott’s got early-onset dementia. Started showing signs about three years ago. Ash gave up everything to take care of him.”
“Gave up what?”
“He used to work for the Crow. Intelligence gathering, mostly. They called him the Collector. Word is something went very wrong on his last job, and he realized he had to choose between his brother and that life.”
“And he chose Elliott.”
“Without hesitation. The Crow consider him a traitor now, but he knows too many of their secrets for them to move against him directly.” Blue’s face grows thoughtful. “Ash is probably one of the most dangerous men in Grimlock, but he channels all that energy into keeping Elliott safe and happy. Makes the best coffee in town too. Learned it during surveillance work where he had to stay awake for days.”
I think about the protectiveness in his positioning, his voice. “That’s why he warned you about the Crow gathering. He’s still got sources.”
“Exactly. And if Ash is concerned enough to warn me, it means they’re finally bringing a real fight.” Blue’s smile turns predatory. “Now the real fun can begin.”
We reach the car where Hans waits, engine idling. He spots us approaching and immediately gets out to open my door.
“All good, Boss?” Hans asks Blue while helping me into the passenger seat.
“All good. Any issues while we were gone?”
“Everything is clean. Quiet afternoon.” Hans closes my door and circles to the driver’s side.
As we settle into our seats, I realize that the afternoon has shifted something between Blue and me. Understanding, maybe. I’m starting to see how Grimlock works, how Blue fits into it, why people respect him and genuinely care about him. But more importantly . . . I’m really starting to like the guy. He’s charming. He’s a gentleman. He’s . . . yeah, so maybe he’s a killer, but he’s also . . . genuine.
“Ready to head back?” Blue asks.
“I should probably figure out what to wear tonight at this party.”
“Wren will have thoughts about that,” Blue says with a slight smile.
“Should I be worried about her thoughts?”
“Only if you’re planning to wear something she considers inappropriate for the occasion.” Blue’s tone hints this is a real possibility. “Wren takes parties very seriously.”
“More seriously than kidnapping, apparently.”
“Different skill sets,” Blue says without missing a beat.
As Hans drives us back through Grimlock’s winding streets, I watch the town pass through the windows and realize I’m not thinking about escape anymore. I’m thinking about tonight, about meeting these people properly, about what Elliott meant when he said the evening would be revealing.
For the first time since Dad died, I’m curious about what comes next instead of just trying to survive it.
Chapter Sixteen
Saylor
Wren’s hands are steadier than mine will ever be, and I’m trying not to blink because apparently that ruins everything.
“Stop twitching,” she says, dabbing tiny silver stars along my lower lash line. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
She’s been working on my face for the past hour, transforming me into something that belongs in a fantasy novel. The eyeshadow shifts from shimmery copper to deep bronze, and the eyeliner extends beyond the corners of my eyes in delicate swooping lines that trail down my cheekbones like cosmic tears. Little flecks of glitter catch the light every time I move, and the stars she’s adding make my eyes look celestial.
“This is insane,” I mutter. “It’s just a dinner party.”