“Every single one of us would die for you if we needed,” I promise her, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that’s true.
“Let’s go to bed,” Sable says. “All of us. We have a really long day tomorrow.”
“So we can’t keep you up, quadruple penetrating you?” Orion asks.
“Well, I didn’t say that,” she disagrees with a laugh.
At least I have something to look forward to tonight, before everything permanently changes tomorrow.
CHAPTER 74
SABLE
Delicious aromas fillthe room as servers walk around offering canapés. It’s incredible how easy it is to buy quality food that comes with guaranteed silence from any witness. The guys are responsible for the first part of the evening, but I don’t want to miss a moment of it. My hands shake with anticipation as I watch from my hiding place. I’m at the top of the room, where a small stage is, perfect for a respectful string quartet. But tonight there’s no live music, just me waiting on the side in a red dress.
Bloody images drip through my mind as they mingle and chat, but it will be a while still before I can act. We need them all in the correct positions or this won’t work. All of them have to die before they have a chance to alert anyone else, and we are ready. A cell jammer waits in my pocket, and a knife is strapped to my leg. Yet both stay where they are, waiting for the right moment.
If I turn it on too soon, they may leave before we get them where we want them, and right now, we’re still waiting for a few people to show up. My nerves spike as I fear they’re not coming, but my guys were right—everyone will show. They all want me dead bad enough to make sure they’re here. To mysurprise, there are a few people here we didnotinvite, but if they’re invested enough in my death to come here tonight, then that’s fine. They can go on the list too. I’m nothing but adaptable. Some of those faces I recognize, others I don’t, but I know my family will finally be vindicated tonight. Maybe not to the public, but to me.
Once everyone is inside, they close the door but do not lock it. Luring them all into the perfect, slightly drunk sense of complacency will make all the difference between this plan working and all of us winding up dead instead. There are enough people here to turn on us if we don’t act fast enough. Before we move to the next section of the evening, everyone finds their place, each marked by a handwritten card. Ideally, I’ll add those to my scrapbook when we’re all done here, each of their names splashed in their blood. I’ll have more time for arts and crafts when I stop running for my life.
Drinks are served, and the first course arrives. The important discussion of how to get rid of me once and for all will take place over after-dinner drinks, as any cultured gathering would. I keep thinking the families will press the boys before time, but no one wonders why they have to eat and drink before business. My heart hammers so hard I can barely breathe, yet nothing is amiss. The guys were right, the four families love this kind of display. To them, this is how you plan a murder.
“Got you, bitch,” a voice says from behind me. A knife pierces the sensitive skin of my neck while his other arm wraps around my waist. I suck in a breath, confused for a second before I see it’s Cillian. I knew there must be a reason for all his strange behavior, but what the hell is he doing here right now? He’s not aFounder.
“Nice of you to come back,” I say calmly.
He snickers and puts a little more pressure on my neck. It stings as it slices me, and I’m sure it draws blood. Of all thethings that could happen, I never thought Cillian was the one who would ruin my plans. Nina called him a vermin, and I assumed he ran scared. But now he’s here, and he’s armed.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Oh, you’ll see. We are about to crash a dinner party,cousin.”
What?
Before I can ask more, he pushes me from my hiding place into everyone’s view. I stumble into the room, cursing Cillian for ruining such a beautiful plan. Heads turn our way. He breathes fast behind me, his hot, sticky exhale touching the skin of my neck.
“What the fuck are you doing, Cillian?” Lex roars.
“What is this? What isshedoing here?” someone from Hadrian’s side of the room shouts.
“This party is Founders only.” Parker smooths things over, but anyone watching can see how the knife at my throat is making him seethe with anger. I take the opportunity to dip my hand into my pocket and turn on the cell jammer. Cillian is making a mess out of this, but the four families are here, and I watch as Orion slides to the doors and locks them. The only way they are getting out of the room is in a body bag.
“Founding families only?” Cillian asks from behind me. “The Colefaxes are lacking a male representative, and I’m finally here to take the spot.”
Murmurs fill the room, their eyebrows hiding under their hairline as they say Colefax as if it were a ghost. But I don’t pay attention to them. I turn to my captor, who apparently is a long-lost member of my family too. The revelation would shock me if I hadn’t already gotten a flesh-and-blood sister this week.
“Is that so?” I ask in a bored tone.
“Oh yes.” He chuckles to himself. “My mother gave birth to the male heir after years, but no one cared because we were in the wrong branch of the family. Your grandfather made sure wenever got our deserved place. He preferred to ruin everything rather than?—”
“The Colefaxes are no longer Founders!” someone shouts, interrupting his train of thought. His eyes fill with anger, and his attention flicks away from me. “I’m Cillian Colefax, I’m the male heir. I have the right to be here as much as any of you, and I’m the one with a knife and a willingness to get this done.”
He laughs to himself and presses the blade into my neck. The pain is sharp, and a hot stream of my blood follows after the sting. Cillian cuts me deep, and the warmth of the blood drips into the neckline, matching the red dress. Cillian might be overcome with rage, but he’s shaking, and there’s something else in his voice. He is afraid.
“How did you think this was going to go, Cillian?” I ask loudly enough for the room to hear. “That they would welcome you with open arms?”
“You can’t rewrite history, not really. You can just hope people forget,” he replies, eyes on the four families. “Unfortunately for you all, I have not forgotten.”
