Finding out where the council will be is no easy feat. It’s held at a secret location known only to those highest in the organization. Rumor has it they kill the wait staff who serve the council meal each year so they can’t report on what they overhear. As Brutus’ tribune, Antony’s one of the few in the family who knows the location, but he won’t tell me, and I won’t ask. I need him to be ignorant of my plan, or he’ll try to stop me.
The evening before the council, Antony heads out to his club for the first Saturnalia party. While he’s in the bathroom, I set my phone on silent and battery-saver settings and slide it under the passenger seat. It’s a testament to how much I love him that I’m willing to go without my phone for a night to make this happen.
The Imperators will be on the lookout for anyone tailing them, and we’re pretty conspicuous, especially in the guys’ rides. So as soon as Antony’s gone I send Noah out to rent a Volvo, which he parks near the bottom of Harrington Hill, well outside the range of Tiberius’ security zone. Hopefully, we’ll be able to stay far enough back so they won’t spot us.
I crawl into bed with the three guys. They press against me on all sides, warm and comforting. I stare at the ceiling. I can’t sleep.
In the morning, Tiberius wakes us up with boxes of Saturnalia pastries – fresh fromBread and Circusesin Tartarus Oaks. The bakery is over a hundred years old and serves as a front for my family’s smuggling ring. But the owner, Stefano, prides himself on his superior food, and he hasn’t disappointed. Each cake is iced with the Triumvirate insignia – the sword and laurel branch for August, the she-wolf for Lucian, the eagle for Dio.
Across the table, Gabriel grins at me, crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. Noah growls at the coffee machine and Eli’s glued to an article on his phone about de-escalating violent confrontations, which is so adorably naive I can’t stand it.
Today, I hope to prove that I can hold all their lives in my hands.
But first, we have to get to the actual meeting.
At least my tracking works. As soon as Antony drives off to pick up Tiberius for the council, Eli activates his ‘Find My Friends’ app. We race down the hill and hop into the Volvo. Noah drives with white-knuckled hands while Eli calls out instructions from the app. We track Antony’s car in a zigzagging pattern across the city. I remember Daddy telling me that all council attendees are advised to take a circuitous route to confuse any law enforcement on their tail – investigators know the meeting takes place every year and the main players on the chessboard, so they’re always waiting in the shadows.
Finally, Antony turns into the abandoned docks and parks his vehicle in one of the warehouses at the opposite end to Midnight Grotto. This side of the docks has been reclaimed as a hip shopping district – Tokyo clothing labels and organic coffee and kombucha stands operating out of shipping containers.
Antony peers behind him as he slides out of the vehicle. Tiberius and another fighter I recognize from the club box him in as they duck into an alley behind a tarot reader.
I count down a minute. Eli pats the pistol strapped inside his jacket. Gabriel’s fingers seek mine and squeezes hard. He pulls the hoodie he’s wearing low over his face – if he’s recognized around here it could make trouble for us.
“Before you ask, we’re with you, Claws.” Noah rolls up my sleeve and slides my knives into place. I touch the first blade, feeling the satisfying coolness of the metal against my skin. I dare a look into his eyes and see my own dark determination reflected back at me.
I shove open the car door. I step outside.
To everyone else on the street, we’re just a group of teens wandering around the trendy shops. But my heart leaps into my throat as we duck into the alleyway and make our way toward the door Antony disappeared through.
Noah nudges my hand and nods to a window on the upper level. A guard peers out at us. He opens his mouth to demand we leave. I draw back my arm and hurl a knife. It embeds itself in his eye socket, sliding into his brain. He slumps backward, disappearing from the window. Behind me, Eli gags a little.
I took someone’s life without a second thought.
The door flies open and a second guard barrels out, whipping his gun around to aim at me. But I’ve already loosed my knife. It gets him in the neck. He spins around, his hands flying to the hilt, but it’s too late for him. He sprays an arc of blood across the alley as he slumps to the ground.
No big loss.
Eli’s eyes bug out of his head. He steps back as I move toward the door. “Do we really have to kill everyone? I mean, that guy was someone’s son—”
“He’s a scumbag, and he knew what he was signing up for.” I shove the guard into an alcove just inside the door and yank my knife from his neck. I wipe down the blade while Noah covers him with life preservers. “We’re walking into a meeting of the most ruthless minds in all of Emerald Beach. I have to show them I’m ruthless too, or we’ll never make it out alive.”
Noah pauses to pull on his Barbarian mask. When he glares at me through those eye-slits, he looks so evil it makes my knees weak. We make our way down the darkened hallway. I grip my knife between my fingers, keeping it raised and ready. The passage is only wide enough for us to walk one abreast, and as it twists and turns deeper into the building, I start to imagine shadows around every corner.
This place is a labyrinth.
I know that’s why they chose it, because if things end up as a shoot-out – with the police or each other – an Imperator would be able to retreat into this warren of tunnels and rooms. The minotaur licking his wounds – half man, half bull, all trickery and violence.
I taste blood on my tongue.
We must be close.
Our passage opens into a small antechamber, lit by flames from torches set in the walls like a medieval dungeon. There’s only one door, standing open, with another guard positioned outside. He’s turned away from us as he speaks with someone already behind the door. “You’re late,” he says as he hears us approaching. “You’d better get inside before…”
His eyes bug out as he sees us. “Who the fuck are you? You can’t—”
He doesn’t speak again.
Blood splatters the front of my dress as I yank the knife from his body and wipe it down. I’ve chosen my outfit with care to appeal to the sacredness of the occasion – a deep, rich imperial purple, my father’s favorite color. It cinches at my waist and drapes into intricate folds. Now it’s decorated with blood. Behind me, Noah’s horns scrape the wall as he drags the body out of sight.
