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Trust.
Love.
“Be careful, Lyssa,” she says softly. “Please.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I watch her go, a knot forming in my stomach. Then I pull out my phone and call Hadria. “We need to meet. Now.”
I’m pretty sure she won’t try to kill me. I really hope she doesn’t. Because then I’ll have to defend myself…
And I don’t want to hurt my sister any more than I already have.
An hour later, Hadria stalks into Valentino’s, her eyes as cold as a Chicago winter. She walks right past my table without even looking at me, and into the private, reserved room she always has here at Valentino’s. I follow, nodding to a server as she brings in the bottle of scotch I ordered, plus a couple of glasses. Then she leaves, closing the door behind him, and the silence stretches between us.
Hadria refuses to sit, so I remain standing too.
“Well?” she asks, her voice sharp as a blade. “Have you brought me here to pretend once more that you killed the assassin?”
I grit my teeth, tamping down the urge to snap back. “Knock it off. I have information you need to hear. And you’re going to need a drink after hearing it.”
I pour a glass of scotch and hold it out to her. She eyes it for a moment before taking it. I pour one for myself and raise it in a toast. “Well, here it is: Grandmother met with your father, right here at Valentino’s. I think they’re working together. Working to…eliminate you.”
Hadria goes still, her face a mask of stone. Then, slowly, she raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip. She sits, and I follow suit.
“Are you sure?” she asks, but then shakes her head. “Of course you’re sure.”
I can’t help my cynical smirk. “So you still trust me in these matters, at least?”
Hadria looks at me so hard I feel like she’s trying to see straight into my soul. “I trust you with my life, Lyssa. No matter what mistakes you might be engaging in.”
So that’s how she thinks of Scarlett. But I nod. “We’re sisters.”
“Yes. But right now, we’re sisters having a disagreement.”
I’m just relieved to see that her ruthless pragmatism is winning out over her anger. I pour us each another drink. “What do you want to do?”
“Tell me everything you know,” she says. “Then I’ll decide.”
“The maître d’ confirmed it. Grandmother and Zepp, having a cozy little dinner. Just the two of them.”
Hadria’s hand tightens around her glass. “My father hates me, of course, but last we talked, he wanted me to come home like a good little girl. Take over the Family. He only has one heir now, of course, now that Nero’s dead.”
Sometimes I wonder how Hadria felt about having to kill her own brother. But when I hear her talk about him so casually, I know for sure she didn’t even think twice.
I wonder what that might mean for me, her chosen sister.
“Zepp knows you won’t go down without a fight,” I say.
“Which may be why he needs Grandmother. She has an army of trained assassins at her beck and call—like Scarlett.” Hadria’s eyes flash. “Your pet assassin. She might be involved in this somehow.”
“She’s not involved. She wants Grandmother dead just as much as we do, and she knows nothing about the old woman’s wider plans.”
“Doesn’t she?” Hadria leans back, her gaze assessing. “Or is that just what she’s telling you, to get close to you? To make you let your guard down?”
I shake my head, refusing to let Hadria’s words plant seeds of doubt. “You don’t know her, Hades. Not like I do.”
“No, I don’t. And that’s the problem.” Hadria pushes away her scotch and stands. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment, Lyssa. You’re forgetting what she is.”
“And what is she, exactly?” I stand too, meeting Hadria’s gaze head-on.
