As associates, it would’ve been logical to lead Levi to her office, where she did business. But she definitely wasn’t thinking straight, because she instead led him upstairs toward her bedroom. She’d gone there seeking comfort—not from him, but from the familiarity and safety of her own space.
As soon as she stepped through the threshold, she realized her error. Her cheeks burned, but it was too late to take it back.
Once she closed the door, Levi demanded, “What the muck was that down there? And why weren’t you at the meeting?”
“You don’t know what happened earlier,” Enne said quickly. “You only walked in on—”
“A public execution, by the looks of it.” His gaze found the specks of blood smattered across her coat, and his expression eased from shock to concern. “Tell me what happened.”
If Enne explained how she’d purposefully stood up his meeting with the Chancellor, he’d be furious. Jac’s death had left behind a wound in Levi that had not even begun to heal, but it had left one in her, too. It was taking from her, piece by piece. Her closest friend was gone. Her sense of security, gone. If even a strand of her and Levi’s partnership remained intact, she needed to cling to it like a lifeline.
And so she picked apart the lies, the pain, the shock, and she tried to make him understand. She told him about the note from Jonas, about her deal with Mansi. How she’d thought that the Chancellor’s invitation had been the trap, but really, the trap had been Ivory’s—Rebecca’s. Her anger released some of its heat with each word, but opening up wasn’t soothing—ithurt. Like pressing repeatedly on a bruise.
By the end, Levi was sitting on the edge of her bed, his fingers steepled. Even wrung out and exhausted, Enne couldn’t bring herself to sit beside him, to fully relax. She wanted to hear Levi’s thoughts, but the longer they spoke, the more restless the Scarhands would grow.
“Enne...” Levi began carefully. “You’re scared, and I get that—I’m scared, too. But even though the Chancellor has every reason to distrust a Mizer and an orb-maker, right now all of her worries are centered on Bryce. The longer he remains the true enemy, the less we’ll seem a threat in comparison.”
“What are you suggesting?” Enne asked uncertainly.
“I’m saying that you don’t need to command the whole North Side to seem strong. Our strategy needs to be seeming—”
“Weak,” Enne finished flatly. “Which is another way of saying vulnerable.”
“We have an opportunity to make an ally of the Chancellor, not an enemy.”
“The Chancellor is one of the people who murdered Lourdes, Levi. Who orchestrated the Revolution and helped killevery single Mizer.”
“The world discovered that you’re a Mizer a week ago, but the world has known my family’s history my entire life.” Levi stood up and rested both of his hands on Enne’s shoulders. “And you know how my family survived? By being small. By keeping their heads down.”
His words were so contrary to everything Enne had experienced that she could barely process them, barely recognize the person in front of her.
“A few months ago, all you wanted was to rule the North Side,” Enne reminded him.
“That’s because I thought I could escape who I am by pretending to be someone else, but after today, at this meeting...” He shuddered, and he reached down for Enne’s hands. Her breath hitched at his touch, and she didn’t trust herself to move, not even to squeeze, in case he pulled away. “Who are we right now? We’re the Mizer and an orb-maker. We’re Séance and Pup. The people who killed the Chancellor, the people responsible for nearly destroying the North Side. But we have an opportunity now to rewrite the narrative. Vianca is gone. We can claim that she was pulling all the strings. We can help the Chancellor end Bryce’s game before more blood gets spilled.”
If Levi got to rewrite himself as someone else, why couldn’t Enne? Because she couldn’t live like this, shooting instinctively, not sleeping, hearing Jac’s last words in every moment of quiet. It was no surprise she’d made a mistake. She would make more mistakes. But too many people depended on her. Too many people saw something in her that she wasn’t. And she’d do anything for a way out.
Maybe Ennecouldagree to this, no matter what her gut told her. Her gut was the reason she’d made such a mess of things, anyway.
Before Enne could respond, Levi let go of her and retrieved his golden Shadow Card from his pocket. He turned it over in the space between them. The wordSTRENGTHwas now scrawled across the back in red, and Enne immediately recognized it and stiffened.
“If we collect a string of five cards, we can end the game,” Levi told her. “This is my target. Do you know whose card this is?”
Enne closed her eyes as a fresh tide of guilt flooded over her.
“It’s Jac’s,” she whispered. Harvey Gabbiano probably had the card now—he was the one who’d taken Jac’s body away from the casino.
Levi faltered, but his voice was still soft when he asked, “And who is your target?”
She fumbled for her own card and showed it to him. “It’s you.”
He took a hurried step back, and Enne’s heart clenched. There had been a time when Levi wouldn’t have hesitated—he would’ve given her his card. They’d been more than partners; they’d been in this game together, win or lose, and that was exactly what surrendering their cards meant.
“The way the cards work, if I give mine to you, my life is tied to yours,” Levi told her carefully.
“So you’re saying you don’t trust me,” Enne murmured, trying to ignore how badly the realization hurt.
“I’m saying that I need a promise from you. That we’ll work with the Chancellor and Harrison. I think Harrison sees me as an ally, but I can’t broker any sort of deal for us if we’re not really in this together. And I know you. You shoot first, you think after—”
