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“For fuck’s sake, Suzy,” I snap when she ambushes me fresh from the first sparring session with our new recruits. “I really don’t give a rat’s ass. Don’t you have a wedding to plan?”
Her lips pucker in a pout that would probably seem adorable if I was Hadria. “But Lyssa, this is your sanctuary! Don’t you want it to reflect your—your inner-badass-warrior-woman vibe?”
I pull out the tie from my ponytail and let my damp hair fall free. I need a shower. “You know me so well,” I deadpan.
“I’m serious! It should be fierce and—and powerful, like you.”
“Look, I don’t have time—” I begin again, but she forestalls me.
“This is our new home, Lyssa. We all get a new chance here.”
I get what she means, is the thing. The whole Syndicate has basically moved in. Not everyone, but an awful lot of people liked the idea of living here. Hanging out, eating together, spending downtime together. And there sure as shit are enough rooms.
We’re turning into some damn hippie commune or something. But…
I do kind of like it.
I think again about Grandmother’s house. About Scarlett’s room there, void of anything unique or comfortable. And I think about that weird fucking space that was Ariadne’s bedroom.
I huff a sigh. “Look, Suzy, I don’t know a damn thing about design. But you do. So how about you do me a favor, and get your decor on?”
“Really?” Her eyes go wide.
“Really. Do whatever the hell you want. Long as you leave me alone for a bit!”
Beaming, Aurora pulls me into one of her effervescent hugs. I tense instinctively before forcing myself to melt into the embrace, my arms winding loosely around her tiny frame.
She’s pretty much my sister-in-law, after all.
“You’re going to love it,” she chirps. “I promise.”
Shaking my head, I let her go with a gentle shove. “Just don’t go overboard, alright? And no pink, for God’s sake.”
She flashes me a sunny grin before pivoting and scurrying off, no doubt bursting with grand plans.
And I think about Scarlett again, about how determined she must have been to put herself through Grandmother’s training, through all that brutality. But that need for vengeance will never be satisfied, even if she kills Ariadne, and Grandmother, and me. I don’t think she’s figured it out yet, either, that blood won’t make her feel better.
I go back to my room to shower, and while I’m letting the hot water ease out the knots in my shoulders, my mind goes back to what it was like living with Mrs. G. She wasn’t wealthy by any standards, but the house was neat and cozy, and I even liked that old stuffed bear that sat on the ruffly bed. Mr. Fluffikins…I wonder what became of that mangy old thing when Mrs. G moved back here to Elysium.
She still owns the house, far as I know. Rents it out. And whoever they are living there, I hope they enjoy the place like I did. Living under Mrs. G’s roof was a paradise compared to what I’d had before. Hell, even living on the streets for a few years was better than what I’d had with Grandmother. I never questioned the brutal minimalism of my existence under her control for the first decade or so of my life. It was just life, the daily grind of violence and darkness that carved me into the woman I am today, whether I like it or not.
But Scarlett…she endured that soul-shredding emptiness by choice. All thanks to her obsessive need for vengeance.
I step out of the shower and dry off roughly. Enough woolgathering. I’m running my mind in circles tonight when I should be thinking about my next move with Grandmother. But I can’t shake this stupid nostalgia today. It’s really taken hold.
My restless feet carry me to Mrs. Graves’s quarters, and she answers the door promptly, though surprise registers on her face as she sees me standing there. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” I make a face. “Can I come in?”
Mrs. Graves ushers me inside, guiding me to one of the overstuffed armchairs from her old place. With a sidelong glance, I catch the framed image of her daughter Sarah on a nearby table. Mrs. Graves’ eyes trail to the photo as well, her face taking on that familiar sorrow for just a moment before she blinks it away.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here,” she murmurs, sinking into the adjacent chair with a soft sigh. “I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“The other night, after…well.” She shakes her head, lips pursing. “When you basically told me I was being a hypocrite. You were quite right.”
Oh, shit. I really should’ve kept my mouth shut. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. The Syndicate’s way of life, our code—it’s blood for blood. Always has been. What you asked me and Hadria to do, it was only justice.”
