Zara shrugs, then winces. “A little.”
“But brave,” Violette adds softly. “And effective.”
“She always is,” I add, my thumb tracing idle circles on the back of Zara’s hand. “Even when I want to lock her in a vault.”
Lars slouches in a plastic chair beside the window, sighing like the night’s just now catching up to him. “You two are exhausting.”
Zara grins. “Just wait until it’s your turn.”
“Hard pass.”
Violette turns to him. “You do realize you’re next?”
He chokes on a sip of coffee. “Excuse me?”
“You’re overdue. A woman, a child. Something to distract you from your endless sarcasm.”
“I refuse to tie myself to one gender for the rest of my life, you know that, Vi. There’s too much to enjoy out there.”
I lean back in my chair, warmth settling in my chest. It’s brief and rare, this thing we have in this room—quiet joy. Family, built out of ash and strategy. And it’s mine.
Still, the calm doesn’t last long.
I turn toward Lars, my voice cooling. “Where’s Lachlan?”
He straightens a little, lips thinning. “One of our northside warehouses. Dom’s got eyes on him. He’s…waiting.”
My jaw ticks. “Waiting for what?”
“Whatever we decide.” Lars focuses on Zara. “Whateveryoudecide.”
Zara’s fingers twitch in mine, her gaze turning distant for a second. I feel the subtle shift in her—the weight of that name always hits her somewhere deeper than she’ll admit.
I look at Lars. “I hope he’s ready to wait for a while. No one is to touch him until Zara is well. I want him well fed, shit put a TV in there with him for all I care. But he stays in good condition until Zara says otherwise.”
Lars looks at Zara. “You let me know when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Lars.” Her eyes move from my cousin back to me. “There’s something else,” she says quietly.
I glance at her. Her lips parted like she’s still deciding whether to speak.
“Zara?” I press.
She looks deep in my eyes and then says, “I need your help finding someone.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
“Who?” I ask, immediately alert.
Zara swallows. “My sister.”
My blood stills.
“You…have a sister?”
“Half-sister,” she says, voice even. “My father had an affair when I was little. Fuck, he had a lot of affairs, but she was the one child that we knew existed. She was just a couple years younger than me. Her mom took her and moved away after it all came out within the Syndicate, and we lost touch. But we were close. Like secret forts and matching bracelets kind of close. I would like to find her.”
I stare at her, heart beginning to pound—not with fear, but that sharp instinct that never leaves me. The one that knows when something new just entered the playing board.
