Adrian’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. Right. Probably not the best choice of words when I have my gun out on the desk—something that Loni obviously notices before her hazel gaze dances from the burnished metal to the office phone perched on the corner of the desk.
“It was just a… a strange phone call, I guess. The main line transferred it so they must’ve convinced them that they caller could reach you specifically, but when I answered, all I heard was heavy breathing, some crackling static, then a scream before the line went dead. At first, I thought it was a prank, so I called down to Marisol”—the main operator for the phone lines, and a woman who’s worked at the Fortress since I was, like, ten years old—“and she just said that the caller claimed it was an emergency and they needed to speak to Dallas Collins.”
“No name given?”
She shakes her head. “Just yours.”
Adrian’s brow furrows. “Any number that comes through to the Fortress is captured. Did you call it back?”
“Tried to. It’s still dead.”
“Did you run the number?”
Loni gives Adrian a wry look that’s mixed with exasperation andaffection, and one she gives him frequently when I’m around. “Run the number? Why didn’t I think of that? Oh… wait. It’s because Idid.The number doesn’t have any information tied to it.”
“So a burner then,” I say.
“Or newly assigned,” Adrian offers. “Either way, if it’s some kind of an emergency just for you, Dal, they should have the number to your personal phone.”
That’s true. And considering my phone’s been facedown on the far edge of the desk, quiet as the grave since I came down to the office, no one’s tried calling me on that.
That’s probably a good thing. In Harmony Heights, a call to the King can accomplish a lot. But the only time Dallas gets an unexpected call like that is when they need someone with a short temper, a quick trigger finger, and very few morals.
I’m out of the enforcer game. Not by choice, though. Adrian—in that Kingmaker way he has—convinced me that the head of the Order can’t be responsible for protecting it. I’d be putting every one of my allies at risk if I continued to dick around instead of taking the position seriously. And while I could give a shit about my own life, the idea that my enemies could target Adrian and Loni… or Bas and his new wife… Connor and poor Haven, who already is so fucked-up and all thanks to the Order… while I’ll always be a killer to my core, I’m not for hire these days.
I shrug. “Thanks, Loni. You’re right. I don’t know what that’s about, but I’m glad you told me. If they call again, I’ll take care of it. You just send them straight to my line.”
Loni nods, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Then, she bumps her hip against Adrian’s, stroking his bicep with the tips of her fingers before ducking out of the office again, returning to her desk.
Even through the newly closed door, Adrian stares as though he can still watch her go.
He shakes his head. “I should check on her. Something seems off.”
Getting a phone call that cuts off with a scream might be normal for Adrian and me, but despite being married to him for the last year-and-a-half, that part of the Order is still so new for the formerly coddled Offering. So, yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s shaken up, even though she seemed calm enough as she made her report.
Even so, he’ll be no good if he’s worrying about his wife. As for me, I don’t have shit to do until an afternoon meeting withthe head of the Claiming ceremony committee. Since I know there’s no way in hell I’m getting out ofthatwith the annual August ceremony coming up in less than a week, I can at least get some food in my belly and wash last night’s mistakes off of my skin before meeting with the middle-aged wives preparing to toss their own daughters to the Owed.
God, I fucking hate that part of the society. Hate a lot of it, but the idea of the Offering and the Used and putting a price to our women in particular…
I flick Adrian off with my fingers, wordlessly telling him to go.
Instead of following right behind his wife, my cousin turns toward my desk. He scoops up the gun, disappearing that inside of his suit jacket.
“Just in case,” he says with a knowing smirk before he, too, is gone.
I think about that after I’m alone again. Adrian must think I keep an extra magazine close at hand, and he’s not wrong. I do. Of course I do. In fact, in this office alone, I have three.
I also have a spare handgun in the bottommost drawer of Jack’s old desk.
Just in case.
THREE
WHO AM I?
LUCY
Ithink I’m supposed to be dead.
