My rivalry with Soter blinded me to Marlowe’s manipulation. I ignored his warnings about her connection to Nyx, too proud to admit he might be right. That mistake allowed her to slip through our fingers. Now that I’ve earned this interim commander title—ironically, by finally putting aside that petty competition—I won’t fail again. My title might be temporary, but while I have it, I’m determined to keep the Nebula and Epsilon from tearing each other apart, starting with Soter and me.
“Do you think we’ve finally found her?” Soter asks, referring to Marlowe.
We’ve been searching for months. My instincts suggest that my old mentor has fled the country, yet we occasionally receive tips about sightings in the city. I never ignore a possible sighting.
“No, I don’t,” I reply.
Soter flicks his cigarette to the ground and crushes it beneath his foot. “You can’t know that for certain.” He exhales smoke from the corner of his mouth.
Soter’s right, but I know Marlowe better than anyone. She wasn’t just my boss—she was my mom’s best friend, my dad’s Domna, and a constant in my life since before I could walk. I know she wouldn’t risk returning to Corona unless something big was at stake. Something worth gambling everything for. And that’s exactly what worries me.
As we step inside the manor, the large door creaks. Every piece of furniture lies under untouched white sheets.
I peer around the spacious room, showcasing a wealth I could never dream of having. But unlike the row house I grewup in, this palace offers no warmth, as if a family never lived here. Like a ship at the bottom of the sea, this place is a crypt of terrible memories.
We check the downstairs and the cleared-out wine cellar before heading upstairs to the bedrooms. Elio’s office is empty, but Soter pauses to stare at a pompous painting of the former president.
“Something is missing,” he muses before approaching Elio’s desk to search for a black permanent marker. He tugs the wooden coffee table against the wall with a screech, stands up, and draws horns, a mustache, and a tail on the artwork.
I struggle not to smile. “Come on, quit fucking around.”
Soter hops off the table to admire his work. “I should have been an artist.”
“You are many things, but artistic isn’t one of them. Let’s go.”
The bedrooms are empty, and the beds remain untouched. If Marlowe were staying here, there’s no way she would sleep on the floor. She always complained about an old injury that flared up during stakeouts with Dad. Though I knew she wouldn’t be here, my heart sinks a little.
“When you find Marlowe,” Soter asks as we wander through an empty bedroom, “what do you intend to do?”
I close the drapes covering the double doors that lead to the deck. “What kind of dumb question is that? I’d arrest her.”
A moment of silence passes before Soter asks, “Would you?”
I groan. Soter always knows how to push my buttons. “I’m the commander, and she is a wanted criminal.”
“But she is also your friend.”
My hands tighten into fists at my side. The Marlowe I trusted implicitly feels like a distant memory now. Once, she had been more than just a mentor to me; she had been a confidante, a second mother figure who always had my back. She penned a glowing letter of recommendation when I applied to work as aBlade at Dad’s precinct. And in my darkest hour, when I thought I had lost everything after Desi died, she welcomed me home with open arms. A bitter poison flows through my veins, settling in my chest.
“Don’t insert yourself into a situation you know nothing about,” I tell him.
Soter stares at me intently. “I’m observant. Marlowe favored you above all of us. You are a skilled Blade, but it was more than that. She trusted you to have her back and to stand by Nyx’s side.”
My posture stiffens like steel. There are nosidesleft after the revelation of the War Letters. If Nebula and Epsilon can’t learn to work together, we lose the opportunity the letters provide us to find peace and finally build an equitable society. Nyx failed to realize this months ago and, as a result, squandered their chance for justice in their thirst for revenge. I refuse to watch history repeat itself.
“Marlowe chose violence,” I say. “Of course, I didn’t agree with her. I still don’t.”
Soter nods. “Revenge and retribution are often confused. You’re chasing ghosts while there are bigger issues at hand. Let me handle finding Marlowe. You’re too close to this.”
I glower. “Marlowe attempted to kill Leigh, and for that alone, I want her to suffer.”
Soter grins.
Dammit.He’s right. I am too close to this case.
“Go, busy yourself with the many other projects piling up on your desk, and trust that I can manage Marlowe. You’re stretched too thin.”
“You can’t handle her alone.”
