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All of us hear the frightened squeak of assent. Aurora sags in relief. “They’re coming,” she murmurs, after hanging up.
Ricky has been lurking nearby, tracking my every move with an intensity that would make a lesser woman squirm. But my focus stays on Hadria, watching her vitals, adjusting the flow of blood, and praying to a God I don’t believe in.
But gradually, Hadria’s pallor begins to improve, more color seeping back into her cheeks as her chest rises and falls with deeper, more robust breaths. By the time the doctor arrives—a wiry, nervous-looking man clearly rattled by Aurora’s threats—Hadria is still frighteningly pale, but her condition has undoubtedly improved.
“Smart,” he murmurs to me with grudging approval as he examines Hadria’s wound, then the transfusion set up, checking my handiwork with efficiency. I’ve given enough, he says. Saved her life. But his brow furrows as he looks me over quickly, too. “You need to rest up, now. Eat something to regain your strength before you keel over yourself.”
I wave off his concern, forcing a casual indifference I don’t feel in the slightest. “I’m fine.”
But the instant I get to my feet, a wave of dizzying vertigo washes over me, my vision whiting out as my legs turn to rubber beneath me. A pair of strong arms lock around my waist before I can crumple into an undignified heap, steadying me as the room careens wildly.
“I’ve got you,” Lyssa murmurs. “Let’s get you to a bed.”
The rest of the Syndicate members present have turned their focus back to Hadria, their relieved murmurs fading as Lyssa guides me from the medical bay. I find my feet, but her hand lingers, splayed against the small of my back, long after it’s strictly necessary—a silent tether of reassurance.
And I’m grateful for it.
An unfamiliar sense of pride blooms in me as we ascend the stairs. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced since…well, since longer than I can remember. Not since those golden days before death and self-destruction became my only companions. Before I turned from wanting to save lives to snuffing them out.
If the Syndicate still plans to kill me after this…then at least I’ve done one good thing.
We reach a bedroom door and Lyssa ushers me inside, through a living area and into a bedroom, where she makes me get in and tucks me in tenderly.
Then she leans in, her soft lips brushing my forehead in the barest whisper of a kiss before trailing lower to sweep over my parted lips. It’s the most fleeting of caresses but it warms me to my core.
She pulls back and says tenderly, “I’m gonna get you something to eat, like the Doc said. You stay here. Rest.”
I can’t deny it feels good to be vertical. My head spins a little less. When I hear the door softly swing open again five minutes later, I smile before I open my eyes.
“I hope you brought something good. I’m starving.” But the smile dies when I open my eyes, because it’s not Lyssa.
It’s Ariadne, staring at me with those empty eyes, stalking fast across the room to where I’m struggling to even sit up against the heavy blankets.
CHAPTER 28
Scarlett
I struggle upright, still weak from giving Hadria the transfusion. But the sight of Ariadne marching toward me makes my adrenaline spike as I brace for an attack, quickly glancing around for potential weapons or defensive objects.
But she stops at the foot of my bed. “What happened at Grandmother’s house?”
I watch her warily, years of brutal training screaming at me not to let my guard down for even an instant. Ariadne—no, Sarah—made it abundantly clear just how deep her hatred for me ran for the whole time we were at Grandmother’s house. And I don’t know that I believe it’s suddenly died away.
Just as the anger and hatred I have for her hasn’t totally died away, either.
“We got close,” I reply tersely, my gaze never wavering from her slightest movement. “But Grandmother managed to escape. And Hadria—she was injured. Badly.”
Sarah’s jaw clenches, and I wonder if she’s fighting back a snarl of frustration or simply grinding her teeth against the urge to kill me. “Will she live? Hades?”
I hope so. I’ll speak it into existence, in any case. “Yes.”
“I want to join the Syndicate,” Sarah declares abruptly.
“You…what?”
She seems to brace herself before repeating the words with more force. “I said, I want in with the Syndicate. And I want you to speak for me so that they’ll let me join.”
A harsh scoff of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. “Are you serious? First of all, I’m not a member. And they hate me, all of them. So me speaking for you would have the opposite effect you’re looking for.” Sarah’s mouth flattens into a grim line, but I’m not done. “And second, you killed my brother.” She finally blinks. “So vouching for your membership to the Syndicate is not something I’m inclined to do, Ariadne.”
