Lira stood suddenly, her movements jerky as she took off her mask to reveal the emotion flooding her face. “Both of you,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Both of you have been risking your lives, committing treason, and neither of you thought to trust me with thetruth?” She turned to Greyson. “I’m your sister. I would have helped you.Protectedyou.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Greyson replied, a hint of gentleness entering his voice. “The Veyra watch you closely because of your position, your access to media and public perception. If you’d been caught helping me—”
“But you didn’t even trust me with the truth.” Lira’s voice sharpened. “Even if you didn’t let me help, you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
“It wasn’t about trust,” Greyson insisted, falling onto the couch next to where Shadera had sat again. “It was about safety. The fewer people involved, the fewer deaths when our father eventually discovers what I’ve been doing.”
Callum watched the siblings, feeling a familiar ache in his chest. How many times had he wanted to tell Lira the truth about his own activities? But he’d kept silent for the same reason Greyson had—to protect her, to keep her untainted by the violence and betrayal that had become his life.
“We should get back to our guest,” Callum said, attempting to diffuse the tension. “Officer Webb might have more information we can use.”
Lira went completely still, her body freezing mid-motion. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice suddenly hollow.
Callum’s brow furrowed, sitting up straighter at the edge in her voice. “We should question the officer again—”
“His name,” Lira interrupted. “What’s his name?”
Something in her tone sent a chill down Callum’s spine. “Webb,” he repeated. “Veyra Officer Marcus Webb.”
Lira stayed silent for a long moment, her breathing becoming shallow and quick. When she spoke again, her voice was so calm, it felt violent. “Give me your gun, Cal.”
The requeststopped him, and for a moment he simply stared at her. “What?”
“Your gun,” she repeated, extending her hand. “Give it to me.”
Callum didn’t hesitate at her request as he withdrew his gun from the holster on his shoulder and placed it in Lira’s outstretched hand. Her fingers closed around the weapon with surprising familiarity.
The Lira he knew was not the woman standing in front of him.
“Lira,” Greyson began, but she cut him off with a raised hand.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion as she turned and walked toward the weapons room.
The three of them remained frozen in the living room, an unspoken agreement keeping them seated as Lira disappeared through the doorway. Callum’s heart hammered against his ribs, a sense of foreboding washing over him.
Marcus’s voice rose in panic from the other room. “Wait—please—I know you—I didn’t want to—they made me—”
His pleas were cut short by a single gunshot. The sound cracked through the apartment like thunder, followed by a silence more absolute than any Callum had ever experienced.
Greyson rose from his seat, but before he could move toward the weapons room, Lira reappeared in the doorway. Blood spattered her face and the front of her dress, bright crimson against pale blue. Her hand, still holding the gun, hung limp at her side.
She crossed the room with measured steps and returned the weapon to Callum. He took it automatically, his mind struggling to reconcile what had just happened.
“Why?” he asked, unable to form a more coherent question.
Lira stared at him, her eyes hollow and distant. “He was one of them,” she said, her voice flat. “One of the ones my father gave me to when Iwas fourteen.”
The words took a moment to penetrate. When they did, he felt as the air was sucked from his lungs. Greyson had gone completely rigid, the rage in his body palpable without a single movement.
“What are you talking about?” Greyson asked, his voice barely audible.
Lira turned to her brother, something breaking in her posture. “You never wondered why I was so obedient? Why I never questioned Father’s orders the way you or Brooker did?” She laughed, the sound empty of humor. “He needed the Veyra’s loyalty. Needed to ensure they would follow him without question. So he gave them something valuable. Me.”
Callum felt bile rise in his throat. The President had traded his own daughter’s body to secure the loyalty of his officers. Had allowed them to rape her, to use her for his own agenda.
“How many?” Callum managed, the words scraping his throat raw.
“Eleven,” Lira answered, her voice steady despite the horror of her revelation. “Eleven officers over three months, before Mother found out and put a stop to it.” She looked at Greyson. “She threatened to kill herself if he continued. It was the only time I ever saw her stand up to him, and the President couldn’t have the stain of a weak wife on his reputation.”
