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“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything.” She leans in to kiss me, soft and sweet, and when she pulls away, my eyes are stinging.
But Scarlett has turned back to business. “But you’re right,” she says. “Our priority is stopping Grandmother for once and for all, so she can never again do what she did to you and to me and to…to Sarah. We can’t let her do it to anyone else. We have to take her down for good.”
But there was something in there that made my eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve changed your tune about Sarah. Don’t you still want your vengeance?”
She looks down, eyes troubled. “I thought I knew all there was to know about how bad the world could be. How much suffering one person could inflict on others. But what happened to her—what Grandmother did to Sarah—” Scarlett’s voice fractures on the name. “She’s just another broken girl,” she says at last. “All this time, I thought she was a deranged monster, hardly better than Grandmother. When in reality...”
Her throat works convulsively, like she’s choking on the horror of it. And I feel exactly the same way.
“In reality, monsters are made,” I agree quietly. “And they can be unmade, too.” I slide my palm to the nape of Scarlett’s neck, squeezing firmly in a show of solidarity. “But when it comes to Grandmother, she ran out of chances long ago. That monster, we put out of its misery.”
“You’re damn right. So where do we start?”
I give a crooked smile. “We start with a slice of cherry pie.”
CHAPTER 21
Scarlett
I shift uncomfortably in my seat across from Johnny de Luca as he eyes me with obvious disapproval. His expensive suit suggests both power and sophistication, making me feel small and out of place even in this dimly-lit booth in a nondescript diner.
The pie is really, really good, though, and I stuff another spoonful into my mouth, grateful for the excuse to keep it shut.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Johnny says, leaning forward with his eyes fixed on me. “I don’t appreciate your little games. Timing those kills to coincide with my visits to Chicago? That, my dear, was impolite.”
I squirm slightly on the cracked vinyl seat, shooting a sidelong glance at Lyssa. Her expression is carefully blank, giving nothing away as usual.
She told me this visit was necessary, and I believe her, but I’m worried about screwing something up. “It wasn’t intentional,” I say at last, after swallowing down the pie. “I swear. I only went out on Grandmother’s orders. I had no idea she timed them so carefully. She never…I never took the time to consider the bigger picture. I apologize, Mr. de Luca, if my actions have made things difficult for you.”
He leans back, shaking his head in a weary sort of disbelief.
Then Lyssa shifts minutely beside me, the barest ripple of movement, but it draws Johnny’s attention. “She didn’t know, Johnny. But she does now. And it only wants to make her kill Grandmother harder.”
And the truth is, I really didn’t know. Didn’t even consider why Grandmother was sending me out then at those very specific times. She was always insistent that we follow her orders to the letter, with no deviations. Every kill had to be timed and executed with absolute precision. At the time, I figured it was just her usual controlling bullshit. Her need to cling to some sense of power over us while we were out of her sight.
But now I think there was much more to it. She had big plans, and I was just one tiny cog. The thought makes my stomach churn. To think I’ve been nothing more than a glorified pawn in Grandmother’s games this entire time—because my own bloodlust blinded me.
Beside me, Lyssa must sense my sudden inner turmoil. Under the table, her hand lands on my thigh, and the intimate contact is enough to steady my nerves.
“Lyssa’s being kind,” I admit. “I was a fucking idiot, just following orders like a good little automaton. Never stopped to consider there might be bigger forces at play besides my own vendetta. And there’s a reason that the Nazis weren’t let off for following orders.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too hard, kid,” Johnny remarks dryly. “It’s not the first time some big shot has played puppet master behind the scenes. People like that, well, they know how to pull on just the right strings.” A calculating shadow crosses his face, and I know he’s not just talking about Grandmother.
“And have you been pulling on any interesting strings?” I ask slowly.
He gives a grin as though he admires my nerve. “I can give you one more thread to follow up,” he says, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table’s surface. “But after that, we’re done. Capisce?” He looks over to Lyssa. “Ms. Imperioli has declared your girl here anathema, and she’s not all that fond of you at the moment, either. So I’m afraid I’ll have to fall in line, since my job is to keep the peace.”
“That’s my job, too,” Lyssa says coolly. “And Hadria will come around. But more important than hurt feelings are the women Grandmother has been taking, trafficking, training. I know you have an interest in causes like that, Johnny.”
He bows his head in affirmation. “You’re not wrong. And for the sake of those girls trafficked into this nightmare, I’ll tell you what I know.” Johnny looks up and drops his voice. “A few weeks back, this Grandmother arranged herself a private dinner at Valentino’s. I don’t know who she met or what was discussed, but you can bet it wasn’t just a taste for Italian cuisine that took her there. But that’s the last you’ll get from me on this.”
“Appreciate it,” Lyssa says, and makes a move to leave.
But Johnny says, “Hang on a minute.” He takes out a business card and a pen and writes a name—Alessa—and a phone number on the back of it.
“As you might know, I have a daughter who might be able to lend a hand afterwards, if you understand me. And she could put you in touch with some counseling resources who know how to keep a secret. Might be of some use?”
Lyssa scoffs. “Sure. A little talk therapy and I bet these ladies will turn into upstanding members of the community.” She slips out of the booth, leaving the card, and looking at me expectantly.
