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“Someone who wants more power. That much is certain.” Kosta walks to the window and looks out at the city. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

I nod.

Then he adds, “You know, you could work for us.”

I stare at him.

“Undercover,” he says.

I laugh.

“What would I do? Chase bad supernaturals for killing too many people? Touch bodies for clues? No, thank you. I’m done reading corpses.”

“I know,” he says. “But your blood legacy is useful too. You pretend you have no power, but you underestimate yourself. Your ability to pull information from blood alone would be valuable. We pay,” he adds. “Maybe not as well as vampires for stardust, but it would be a steady paycheck. And you look like you need one.”

“I’m not Ordo Morituri material.” I give him a tired smile.

“I know you still take care of the orphanage,” he states. “You pretend you don’t care, Lara, but I know you better than that. You want to walk past suffering and feel nothing. You just can’t.”

I say nothing.

“Even Julian. That wasn’t only about the money. You wanted to find him. To save him.”

“Oh, fucking spare me, Kosta.” I snap. “Who are you to lecture me about morality? How many people have you killed for Vuko? Huh?”

He has no answer.

I step closer.

“Just because you found your conscience doesn’t mean I plan to find mine.”

CHAPTER 24

NOTHING LEFT TO BUY

After the dust settles, I go back to my normal-not-normal lifestyle. At least, I try to. I drive to the pawnshop to buy back my mother’s watch with the money I have left after paying the Institute and the extra installment to Nyx Bank. The moment I walk in, I can tell from Mike’s face that something is wrong.

“I came to buy back the watch,” I say.

“Sorry, girl. I had to sell it.”

“What do you mean you had to sell it?!” I press him.

“A guy came in, paid triple, with cash,” he says. “He was looking for a Cartier exactly like that. Nothing personal, but I’m not a charity.”

“What guy?” I ask. “What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. Tall and hooded. I don’t interrogate my clients,” he shrugs. “You know how privacy is important in this business.”

I slam the door on my way out and get into the car. The empty space on my wrist feels like another piece of my old life peeling away. Maybe one day there will be nothing left of it. I just hope whoever bought it is a Cartier collector, not someone trying to get back at me.

With money to spare, I tell Sava to take me to Prada. Even at my lowest, there’s nothing better to cheer a woman up than shopping. I walk through the luxury mall, still unsettled, but looking at new bags eases me a little bit. Marcus’s bounty left me with something over for personal self-care. And anyone who says money can’t buy happiness has clearly never shopped at Hermès.

I barely walk into a boutique filled with soft lighting and glass shelves when I collide with Alexa. Before I can say a word, the vision slams into me.

I see through Julian’s eyes. He sits in the car behind the masquerade villa, the red streams of light reaching through the darkness. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but his hands still shake when he puts a silver mask over his face. His two bodyguards in black masks get out with him, and they enter through the back door. Henry greets him with polished courtesy and leads him down the corridors. Julian passes masked faces, witches and wizards who’ve already drunk plenty and probably snorted even more. Alexa waits for him in the private room.

“Julian Von Batten,” she says. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”