Page 21 of Black Ledger

“Sera is on the case, and as much as I sometimes want to strangle her, she’s great at her job.”

“Right. The honorable fury,” Neeve said sarcastically. “I don’t trust her enough to find him before he kills again.”

“I trust her to do her best, just like we’re doing ours.”

Another silence settled between us. Neeve’s anger boiled between us, but she didn’t say another word. She knew that I was too stubborn for that.

Gemma cleared her throat. “Not to change the subject back to the Russians, but, Xen, are you going to be okay? I know you used to love Severin, and it’s one thing to plan to destroy the person you love. It’s another thing entirely to do it.”

I gulped. Gemma was right. But I needed to forget my past. It was the only way I wouldn’t break in the future. Yet my past never wanted to let me go.

Chapter Eleven

Xeniya Morozova

Age 22

Thirteen Years Ago

The shackles at my feet rattled with every step as I was half-walked, half-dragged into a large concrete room, empty of furniture.

The men who dragged me wore full-body blue suits and faceless black porcelain masks. Not a single piece of their skin was exposed. Besides their weight and gait, nothing distinguished them—they were anonymous guards.

Ten guards stood along the walls, while three escorted me inside. At the center of the room stood a man in a tailored black suit, wearing a white porcelain half-mask with gold cracks and a black tear running down one eyehole. Unlike the black masks that covered the guards’ mouths, this one stopped at the bridge of his nose, exposing his lips and lower face.

Beside the White Mask stood a man in a black suit with a solid full-face gold mask.

I looked around, taking in the exits and escape routes. They’d made the mistake of not drugging me today, and if I could, I was going to try to get out.

The place was spacious, cold, and vacant yet somehow still stuffy and suffocating. Three exits led Lord knew where, but two men in blue guarded each.

I sighed and turned my attention back to the White Mask and the Gold Mask in front of me.

Cold spread beneath my skin like a river flowing through my veins. My fingers curled around my chains until the metal bit into my skin.

“Hello, Xeniya,” the White Mask said. “I am the Headmaster and your new keeper.”

I kept my expression blank and said nothing. I was going to wait for his instructions because being confrontational for no reason wouldn’t get me anywhere.

“You are now one of the Forgotten—the girls who belong to the Lethe, the men who make up the Lethean Order.”

Lethe? The Lethean Order?

Lethe, like the River of Forgetfulness in the Greek Underworld?

I scrunched my face, trying to remember the lesson from my college Intro to Mythology class on the underworld. But that was it. That was all I remembered. I hated my electives and normal classes had been hard for me. I understood code and binary. I didn’t understand old Greek stories about made-up places and deities.

“What is the Lethean Order?” My question came out breathy and weak.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.” The White Mask—sorry, the Headmaster—stepped closer to me. “We are a society of the most powerful men in the world.” A large, self-righteous smile spread across his lips. “We own politicians, CEOs, and mafia bosses. We rule the world from the shadows, but we often get lonely. We have needs, and that’s where you come in—the Forgotten.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It was all a dumb cliché from some high-budget, heartless action film.

He took another step toward me. “You are one of the Forgotten, one of the girls we kidnap and use however we want. We call you the Forgotten. No one will remember your name because no one is coming for you.”

“They will come for me,” I said, though I hadn’t thought it through.

But there was no world in which my father wouldn’t burn everything down for one of his children.