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With all the pomp and circumstance that only a mayor could display, Vanderberg holds out his hands, “Please welcome our potential ally and guest…”
A man steps through the door. He’s short. Broad-chested.
Thinning salt-and-pepper hair slicks back over his skull, topping a wide, weathered, and scarred face. He’s wearing a tiny, black slip of a mask, shadowing his eyes.
He looks… familiar.
As soon as I see his lips part into a smile, my blood goes cold.
“Thank you for having me, Mayor, Matron.”
His voice starts my hands shaking. I know that voice, hate that voice.
And I see his gaze as he removes his mask. I know those eyes. Black as a shark.
It's Marco Vice.
My stepfather.
27
HELLENA
All I hear for the first few minutes is a ringing, muted hum in my ears.
This isn’t real. He can’t be here.
My eyes shift around the room, trying to make sense of the scene. Autopilot clicks on, taking in the details.
To our left, Clive and his two lieutenants are fuming, the other two men stepping forward aggressively. I recognize them from the compound, if not their names.
Across the plush, red carpet, the thin, skeletal man looks at everyone around him like they personally offended him but somehow manages to look intrigued at the development. His entourage are two dull-eyed bodyguards who look like they used to eat bodybuilders for breakfast.
“Hellena?” Evan whispers, but I can’t snap out of it.
The Mayor is just to our right. Six men and women jockey for position behind him. A woman, presumably his secretary, the way she behaves. Another man who is clearly there for protection. The rest are politicians, possibly city councilmen.
And the last one is a young man I would recognize anywhere, even slouched and disguised in glasses. A man who I never expected to see here.
A man who has never technically lied to me. The logic is almost humorous.
I wonder if he’s ever been completely honest with me.
Because Tell isn’t here, not as himself.
I catch his eye, and he swallows, barely able to meet my gaze. With an awkward shrug, he leans over, offering Evan a robe to give me, pointing uncomfortably between Vice and me, trying to insinuate the meaning. Evan takes the hint and covers me.
The warmth of the fabric does little to chase away the chill gripping my spine.
The source of my mental fugue starts to talk, and his voice snaps me back, out of my haze. Instantly, I’m sweating, panicking.
Evan squeezes my hand, stepping closer.
“Thank you all for having me. I'm so honored to be here.” Marco takes in each guest in turn, smiling a sycophantic grin. “I understand that this is unconventional, to have a guest from outside the system, outside the Family, so to speak.”
“It’s a violation of everything we stand for!” Clive is in Marco’s face.
“Stand down, big man! We can help each other. This union will be mutually beneficial to both of our organizations. My Family has come a long way in the last several years. I have resources I think you will find appealing.”
