I almost ignore her. In fact, I’m halfway to pretending I didn’t hear it. But after seeing that car parked outside, and the tone in her voice, I decide against it.
Curiosity wins.
I sling the tote over my shoulder and make my way downstairs, hesitantly.
And then I see them.
Sam and Naomi standing stiffly in the hallway, staring up at a handsome man who looks like he doesn’t quite belong in this world. Like someone dropped him into this crumbling house from a different one entirely.
He’s tall, maybe late twenties? His suit is dark, crisp, and doesn’t have a single wrinkle. His wool coat looks like it costs more than our rent, and his hair—a shocking shade of white and styled back.
There’s only one other person I’ve seen have hair this light before. And I doubt it’s just a coincidence. I don’t get time to dwell on this revelation though, because I’m completely dumbstruck when I see the person standing next to him.
“Kym?” I blurt, my voice catching in my throat.
Because there she is, standing beside him, somehow just as startling in her usual effortless way. Dark red trench coat that ends at her hips, and her black beret perched slightly off-centre. Wide-eyed.
“Kym?” I repeat, gawking at her dumbly. “What’s going on?”
She looks at me, seemingly just as confused. “Addie?” She blinks, looking between me, Naomi, Sam, and the man next to her. “What’s this about?” He smiles—first at her, then at the rest of us.
“I’m Sterling Carson,” he says smoothly. “Director General of the National Crime Agency.”
When no one answers for a few beats, he seems to come to the realisation that we’re all relying on him to say something. He folds his gloved hands in front of him, eyes scanning us calmly before they land on my face. They stay there for a few moments, but they move away as quickly as they came.
“I’ve been briefed on the situation.” His voice is completely steady, completely calm. “I’ll be taking a direct interest from this point forward.”
Carson?
As inWill Carson? As inKym?
I glance between the two of them—Sterling and Kym—and suddenly it clicks that I had been right before. The white hair. The eyes.
It’s so clear he’s related to them, and the more I look between the two the more convinced I am.
And then I remember what Lilia told me weeks ago, and again last night, almost offhandedly. That the Carsons controlled the police force.
She wasn’t exaggerating.
Sterling looks scarily similar to Will. Same ghost-white hair. Same deep, unreadable eyes that could mean everything or nothing at all. Though Sterling is much more tanned than both of them, warmer. And his face is softer. Gentler around the edges that somehow doesn’t take away from his intimidating, authoritative aura.
I consider the shape of his eyes. Will and Kym have those sharp, siren-like eyes that I always found unique but a little scary. Sterling’s aren’t like that. There’s something less predatory in them. Still piercing, but not as dangerous looking.
At least not on the surface.
Everything about him is refined in a way that doesn’t feel real. Posture straight, coat draped perfectly, not a hair out of place.
It intimidates me. More than I want to admit.
“I understand this situation has escalated far beyond what anyone expected,” he says. “But I want to be very clear, moving forward everything goes through me.”
I turn to Sam and Naomi, the words leaving my mouth before I think too hard about them. “Did you call him?”
They both shake their heads immediately; eyes still locked on Sterling and Kym but pale and visibly uncomfortable. At least or a few moments before they both recover from the initial shock.
Sterling barely glances at them before responding, his attention already shifting back to me. “They didn’t,” he says. “I was informed by my nephew. William Carson.”
Ah. Of course. Still, it’s a little surprising he bothered, and it makes me silently wonder what his edge is.
