I hesitate. Fragmented images swirl in my mind: a girl’s delighted laughter, an Academy Awards night, and that same name whispered under breath a long time ago…
Slowly, I sign back, “Not sure.” Then, pressing my lips together, I add in quick gestures. “He’s connected to… Evangeline somehow, I think.” That’s as much as I can articulate right now.
“We’ll figure it out,” Talon says firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “If Harrington is a threat, we’ll handle him too.”
I give a curt nod, thankful that I don’t have to explain further right now. There will be time to unravel that web. For now, our focus is Mara.
Dredyn’s fists flex at his sides. “We’re not letting her go. I don’t care if I have to rip down the Black estate brick by brick.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
MARA
Ipush roasted Brussels sprouts around my plate, watching the golden-brown glaze smear across the fine china. Dad is talking again about the upcoming campaign events, his voice a low drone that blends with the clink of silverware. Three weeks from the election and every dinner has turned into a strategy session.
Across from me, Mom nods along politely as he lists off fundraisers and town halls. Milo sits to my right, scrolling on his phone under the table until Dad clears his throat pointedly. My brother rolls his eyes and puts the phone away.
“… and the meet and greet is at the governor’s mansion on Tuesday,” Dad says. He’s barely touched his steak. The campaign diet must be getting to him—he’s slimmer than he was a month ago, the lines around his eyes deeper. “We’ll need the whole family there for a united front.”
United front.I stab the sprout with my fork. He means smiling. Smiling and standing perfectly still behind him like props while flashbulbs go off in our faces. It’s what we always do—who we alwaysare.
Mara, the dutiful daughter.
I used to take pride in that role, but right now I can’t muster any enthusiasm. Not with everything else swirling in my mind.
Mom turns to me with a gentle smile. “Your father’s right. The public loves seeing the family together. Mara, I was thinking you could wear that champagne-colored dress for the debate night. It brings out your eyes.”
I force a thin smile. “Sure, Mom.” Another event, another dress, another night playing perfect. Normally, I’d nod and go along, but a spark of frustration flares in me. They’re acting like everything is normal, like my life hasn’t been completely derailed. Like I’m not effectively grounded here, under guard.
Dad checks something on his tablet, then looks at me, brow creasing. “And, Mara, you’ll have to miss classes a bit longer. I know you’re eager to get back to AGU, but it’s just not safe yet.”
My chest tightens. Here we go again. “Dad,” I interject, my tone sharper than I intend. “I’ve already been home for a week. I’m behind on coursework and?—”
He holds up a hand to stop me. “We can arrange tutors. Your safety is more important than a few lectures.”
Across the table, Milo shoots me a sidelong glance, silently warning me not to push. But I can’t let it drop this time. I set down my fork, appetite gone. “Is it really about my safety? Or about optics for the election?”
Dad’s eyes snap up. The room falls quiet except for the soft clink as Mom sets down her water glass. “Mara, you know why you’re home,” he says evenly. “After what happened to those students on campus?—”
“Those students were murdered,” I cut in, lowering my voice but unable to hide the tremor. “People are saying the Syndicate was behind it,” I continue. “That the Syndicate is hunting people down and?—”
Dad sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “The Syndicate is not murdering anyone, Mara. That’s nonsense.” He leans forward, voice softening in an attempt to placate me. “I promise you, theSyndicate isn’t involved. In fact, they’re helping to find whoever is responsible for those killings. We have some of the best people on it.”
Best people. If the Syndicate is so trustworthy, why do I feel a chill at the mention of them?
I swallow hard. “If that’s true, if the Syndicate’s helping… then it should be safe for me to go back, right? Let me return to AGU. I—I miss my friends. I don’t want to fall behind in classes, either.”
What I don’t say:I miss feeling like a normal college student and not a prisoner in this house.What I don’t say:I miss…
My thoughts falter, a familiar heat prickling through me as an image of Dredyn flashes in my mind. I shove it away quickly.
Dad’s face softens a fraction, but he shakes his head. “Not yet. Not until we know who’s behind those murders and they’re in custody. You’re a target, whether you want to admit it or not. As my daughter—especially if I win this election?—”
“Whenyou win,” Mom corrects gently, reaching over to squeeze his hand. She gives him an encouraging smile, then looks at me. “Sweetheart, just be patient a little longer, okay? Your father only wants you safe.”
Safe. Right. I bite the inside of my cheek, tasting blood. They have no idea how unsafe I feel, trapped here with my questions and fears. How exposed I felt even before Dad dragged me home. How the danger was right under our noses and none of them even realized. I lower my eyes and nod tightly. Arguing more won’t help; Dad’s word is final. It always is.
Dad clears his throat, clearly eager to steer the dinner back to lighter topics. “We’ll revisit it soon. In the meantime, your mother’s right—just a bit longer, okay? Now, let’s finish up. Milo, weren’t you heading to the club tonight? Don’t let us old folks keep you.”
