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“But it’s the only one we have in English,” she says with a faint smile. “That’s why I like to show you, too…like this.” She runs a hand over my perspiration-damp body. “It’s a different kind of language.”
“A better kind,” I agree, and run my own hand over her, too.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, the ghosts of our pasts hovering over us.
The next day, when we arrive at Elysium again, I feel the weight of a dozen hateful stares as we walk to the war room. They all know who I am, what I’ve done. And quite a lot of them want me dead.
Ricky Half-hands, one of the senior members, sneers as we enter, his thoughts about me written all over his face. “What’s she doing here?” he demands.
Hadria, already seated in the huge chair at the head of the table, raises a hand, silencing him. “You all heard Lyssa the other day, and you all voted on it. So no complaints. Until Grandmother is dealt with, Scarlett is under the Wolf’s protection. No one touches the assassin.”
I feel a flicker of surprise, and maybe even gratitude. But before I can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door.
Mrs. Graves enters, her face lined with worry. And behind her…Sarah.
Ariadne.
The woman who murdered my brother.
I feel Lyssa tense beside me, her hand drifting toward my arm as though she plans to grab me if I make a move. But Mrs. Graves is already speaking, her voice trembling slightly.
“I know that you want information from Sarah. And I know she wants to help with the planning. But I won’t allow you to take her out there with you, Hadria. You understand?”
Hadria nods, and Mrs. Graves leaves, casting one last, pleading look at her daughter. Sarah stands there, her gaze roving over the room before landing on me. I feel my fury rising, the urge to lunge across the table and wrap my hands around her throat.
But Lyssa’s hand on my thigh stops me, a gentle pressure that calms the storm inside me.
Sarah steps forward to the end of the table. “I want to fight,” she says. “And I’m good. Grandmother wouldn’t have kept me alive if I wasn’t.” She looks at me. “Tell them, Scarlett. Tell them how good I am.”
I give a snort of derision. “Oh, she’s a killer alright. Trust me on that.”
Hadria’s glare silences us both. “I gave my word to Mrs. Graves. Sarah will help with planning, but she will not be part of the strike team.”
Sarah starts to protest, but Hadria cuts her off. “You’re new here, Sarah. You don’t understand our ways yet. Prove yourself, and one day you might be welcome in the Syndicate. But for now…just tell us what you know. Grandmother called you Ariadne, so it seems fitting that she will come undone by you guiding us through her labyrinth. Sketch out a map for us.”
As Sarah starts to detail Grandmother’s defenses and her new lair, I try to focus, to push thoughts of Adam from my mind and focus on the task ahead. Because Sarah might not be allowed to help, but I am. Like Sarah, the Syndicate has no reason to trust me, after everything I’ve done. And yet, here I am. Part of the team.
The dirty fucking dozen, as Lyssa puts it. That’s how many of us will carry out this mission, it’s decided after Sarah has gone. Lyssa and I will be two of them. Hadria another. Mario and Ricky will be there too, and Ricky’s stare at me suggests he plans to keep a close eye on me.
Near the end, Lyssa stands and gives me a quick tug to stand with her. “We’ll leave the details to you, Ricky.” He says nothing, just stares at me again. “And we’ll meet you there. Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night,” Hadria says. And for the first time, Hadria Imperioli looks at me, too.
I wish she hadn’t.
“Come on, Scar,” Lyssa says loudly. “I want to see Mrs. G before we go.”
I’d rather leave Elysium straight away, but Lyssa still has a purpose here. We head down to Mrs. Graves’ quarters, where Sarah has returned.
Mrs. Graves looks delighted to see me. She actually hugs me, and says, “I’m sorry if I sounded a little belligerent the other day. I’m so happy that you’re still alive—and that Lyssa has proven herself to be the woman I know she really is.”
“I-I’m glad I have a chance to apologize to you, too. I never should have mixed you up in everything.”
Lyssa pushes forward, staring at Sarah. “Touching reunions aside,” she says, “I have a question for Sarah, here.”
Sarah looks up eagerly. “If you need me to fight?—”
“No,” Lyssa says flatly. “I just want to know why you left that pile of shredded paper under your bed in Grandmother’s house.”
