If he was still himself by then.
He glanced back down at the gardens. The red-glowing flowers pulsed again, almost in time with his heartbeat.
The whole estate was like that, alive in ways he couldn’t understand—whispering, watching. It made his skin crawl. He wondered if they had wards up here, too, if Thane was tracking his location right now. If he’d show up in five minutes to drag him off this roof like a disobedient dog.
He wouldn’t put it past him.
Still, Riven didn’t move. He stayed there, hunched on the sloped tiles, watching the distant glimmer of the city through the gates. He could see cars passing. People living their lives. People who hadn’t sold themselves to a mafia of beautiful monsters in exchange for a sister who didn’t give a damn.
His hands clenched into fists. One year. He’d make it through, and when he did, no one would ever own him again.
Movement below caught his eye.
His gaze snapped down to the edge of the property, just past the slope of lawn that spilled from the gardens toward the main gates. At first, he didn’t see anything, just shadows moving oddly in the moonlight.
But then a figure stepped out of the tree line, silhouetted in silver.
Another followed, scaling the perimeter wall with eerie silence and slipping down beside the first like a shadow rejoining its master.
Chapter 34
Riven made the decision almost immediately.
The moment the second figure scaled the wall and vanished into the shadows of the estate perimeter, he slid down from the roof of the gardening shed with practiced ease, boots crunching softly against the gravel. There was no time to alert anyone else, and besides, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with more Virelliens. He just needed to see. If someone was sneaking around the estate, it couldn’t be for anything good.
He moved carefully, deliberately, letting his instincts guide him. The night air was cool, laced with the earthy scent of the gardens behind him, and every step through the grass was measured, soundless. By the time he reached the spot near the wall where he’d seen them, they were already gone. No footprints, no broken twigs—whoever they were, they knew what they were doing.
But so did he.
He turned toward the wall and stared up at its stone surface. The faint marks of climbing were there, barely visible to the untrained eye—subtle scuffs against the aged surface, the faint indentations where hands or feet had found purchase. Trusting his gut, Riven scaled it, fingers digging into grooves with precision. Once over, he dropped to the other side and crouched low, his eyes adjusting to the lower light. There wasflash of movement in the shadows, a figure moving fast but quiet, threading through the trees lining the back perimeter. Riven took off after them, silent as a wraith. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from purpose. He didn’t know what he was chasing, only that it mattered.
He slowed once he was close enough to avoid being heard and reached for his phone, snapping a photo quickly before ducking behind a tree. He zoomed in, angling the screen to reduce glare—and there she was. The woman from the Seam. The one who’d warned him that he wasn’t ready. Her hair was tied back, her clothes dark and unremarkable, but there was no mistaking the angle of her jaw, the alert sharpness in her gaze. She was here, on Virellien grounds.
Which meant this was bigger than just him, bigger than just the drug.
By the time Riven returned to the estate, his legs were aching. He slipped back in through a side door and made his way toward Thane’s study. Light spilled out from beneath the closed doors, and the low murmur of voices told him the meeting was still ongoing. He didn’t interrupt. He waited.
Almost an hour passed before the door creaked open and people filed out. Thane was the last to emerge, his suit jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked tired—more than that, he looked drained. But his eyes sharpened the moment he caught sight of Riven leaning against the opposite wall.
“What is it?” Thane asked, not with irritation, but with the clipped directness of a man used to problems walking up to him at all hours.
Riven pushed off the wall. “I saw someone. Two people, actually, right near the perimeter wall. One of them climbed up from the outside. They were trying not to be seen.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t speak, letting Riven continue.
“I followed one,” Riven said. “Got a picture. It’s the woman from the Seam—the one I met when I was investigating Soulglass. The one who didn’t think I was ready. She was here, on Virellien property.”
He handed Thane the phone, the screen still open on the zoomed-in image. Thane took it, studied it for a moment, jaw tightening.
“If she’s here,” Riven pressed, “it means one of two things. Either someone inside the estate is working with the Soulglass operation, or someone’s feeding them information. There’s no way she got this close by accident.”
Thane handed the phone back, but his expression didn’t change. “And what do you propose?”
“I go back,” Riven said, “to the Seam. Try to find her again. Reconnect. She already spoke to me once, maybe she’ll do it again. If I can get close to her, maybe I can figure out who she’s working with, what their next move is.”
“No.”
The word was cold and immediate. It dropped like a hammer between them.
