I told them I wasn’t in the city most of the time, but I’d booked a flight back to New York in the summer after my exotic trip to Antarctica.
Frankly, I think my cover was blown a long time ago, but Maxwell and Rex must’ve said something because the girls didn’t push me on it.
And then there’s the motley crew downstairs.
Sofia, Elias’s steel-spined sister, dressed in all black, picked at her red-manicured nails while watching the news.
Aleksei, buzz-cut and wild-grinned, promised me he had me covered with his mad hacking skills.
Another suit in a silver mask, Sebastian, known as the psychopath, sat at the dining table, aloof and cold, but there was a flicker of interest when I caught him staring earlier.
Ren said I should ignore him.
Even the priest who married us joined a video call with Elias. Rafe—that’s his name.
Elias’s family. The Antihero Syndicate.
After the attempt on our lives a little over a month ago, Elias spent most of his time in the house with me. He tried to distract me with romantic overtures like candlelight dinners in the backyard with him as the chef, or looking at the stars in my indoor garden until I fall asleep. There was sex, lots of mind-blowing sex, and exotic chocolates imported from all over the world.
He assured me we were safe inside his fortress, that I had nothing to worry about. But based on the hushed calls in his office—one time I even heard him yelling at the Berishas—the danger was far from over.
Worst yet, I don’t think he knows who’s behind it.
Now, Maxwell and Rex stare at me through the computer screen as I hold up a folded sheet of paper.
Mom’s letter—a photocopy Elias made before he gave the original to the Berishas.
“No more secrets,” he murmured this morning in bed. “Happy birthday, my Elise.”
I pull in a deep breath, my fingers shaking.
“You don’t need to read it,” Maxwell says. “It doesn’t matter what’s inside. Your safety’s most important.”
“But fuck it. That’s why she needs to read it,” Rex mutters. “Don’t you want to know what Mom’s hiding and why those freaks want her?”
Part of me is afraid to find out—afraid it’ll ruin the image of Mom I have in my head.
After all, she has something The Association desperately wants, and no one involved with them is ever good.
“No. I’m not running from the truth.”
Mind made up, I unfold the paper, the brittle page crinkling under my fingers.
My Dearest Lana,
My darling daughter, happy thirty-fifth birthday.
I hope you never have to read this letter. Because if you do, it means I’m no longer there, and that breaks my heart because I love you so much.
But know this: I’m watching over you from above, and you and your brothers are my pride and joy.
I have no regrets other than not being there by your side.
Tears blur the looping script. My fingers trace her words.
Sometime today, you’ll get a delivery, and it’s important you don’t tell anyone about it.
As you probably know by now, the world is a dark place. Those with old money and power will do anything to keep themselves on top.
