“Which is?” I pressed, needing to hear it spoken aloud.
Sinclair replied simply, “Division. Those who have power and those who don’t. TheSocietyhas been around for generations, my dear, and its principal goal has always been to create a divide between those in power.” Sinclair hesitated for a moment, then his voice dropped to a near whisper. “To breed loyalty. To ensure theSociety’sideals are carried forward generation after generation. They want to create an unbreakable lineage—one that can’t be swayed or destroyed by outside forces.” He glanced at me, searching for understanding.
I grappled with the chilling truth, my fists clenching as the weight of it settled in. “So, Emma’s not just a target; she’s the cornerstone of everything they’re building.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth, but I had to face them. Our fight wasn’t just against Sylvia—it was against the legacy of theSocietyitself.
“How do we stop her?” I asked, my voice trembling with urgency.
Sinclair sat up, his expression solemn. “We don’t, my dear,” he replied, letting out a heavy sigh. “I do.”
“NO!” Rowen shouted, slamming his hands down on Sinclair’s desk, his anger palpable. “Forget about it, Sinclair. Not happening.”
Sinclair’s resolve was unwavering. “I won’t let that woman near my granddaughter, or any other child for that matter, Rowen. I have the means to stop her, and I will gladly do it, if it means no other child shall suffer the trauma we endured.”
Rowen shot back, his tone sharp. “Don’t play the martyr now, Sinclair. It’s not a good look for you. You even think about going up against her, I will call Silas.”
Sinclair narrowed his eyes, growling, “You leave him out of this.”
Sensing their argument was escalating, I quietly rose and left them to their confrontation. My mind was overwhelmed, struggling to process all the information. I didn’t claim to know every player involved, nor did I want to. This life had already taken too much from me. If I were wise, I would simply take Danika and run, but that would mean abandoning countless other children to a fate they did not deserve. What I knew for certain was that there was strength in numbers. The more people who understood what was at stake, the better the chances of survival. It was simple logistics.
When I stepped into the living room, Haizley was perched by the fire, a book resting in her hands. She wasn’t reading—her gaze was fixed on the flickering flames, her mind somewhere distant. The heaviness in her expression told me she’d retreated into herself, searching for solace I knew she wouldn’t find here.
“Haizley?” My voice barely rose above the crackle of burning wood. I didn’t want to startle her, but the urgency pressed at my throat.
Her lips parted, eyes not quite meeting mine. “I heard.”
I eased myself onto the sofa beside her, searching her face for answers. “Heard what?”
She turned, her gaze sharp now, cutting through the haze. “Call him, Missy. He needs to know the kids are in danger.”
A lump formed in my throat and shame prickled beneath my skin. “I know.”
She didn’t flinch. “Then what’s stopping you?”
Her words stung, a knot tightening in my chest. I rose abruptly and began pacing, trying to push away the memories that threatened to overwhelm me. “He won’t listen to me, Haizley. I told him I wanted nothing to do with the club anymore. I blamed him—and the others—for Travis’ death. I’m scared they’ll never trust me again after what I said. I don’t know if I can face them.”
Haizley’s voice rose, urgent and raw. “That was grief, and they know it. This war they’re fighting—it’s a distraction from what’s really happening. It isn’t about power anymore, Missy. It’s about innocent kids who didn’t ask for any of this, who only want to love and be loved. JesusfuckingChrist, you know damn well any one of us would lay down our lives for any kid. Any kid, Missy! If they find out you knew and didn’t warn them, they’ll never forgive you. And that’s not even mentioning what the women will do to you.”
Haizley’s fingers tightened around the spine of her book, knuckles pale. “You’re stronger than you think, Missy. They may be angry, but if you don’t reach out, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life, especially if a child you know goes missing.” She looked at me, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “You have to try. For their sake—for yours.”
My chest ached with uncertainty, but beneath the fear, a flicker of hope stirred. Maybe it was possible to mend what had been broken—maybe survival depended on facing the past, not running from it. I stopped pacing and met Haizley’s gaze, determination settling in me like a stone.
“Okay. I’ll call him.” My words were barely more than a whisper, but saying them aloud made them real. I picked up my phone and dialed the number I vowed never to call again, bracing myself for whatever would come next.
With trembling hands, I pressed my phone to my ear, heart pounding as I waited for him to pick up. The line rang twice before his deep, familiar voice answered, uncertain but gentle. “Mellie?”
I steadied my voice as best I could, forcing out the words, “Hi, King.”
His concern was immediate, seeping through the phone, softening his tone. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
There was no easy way to begin, but I knew I had to. “I need to tell you something about the war.”
He sounded tense now, wary. “What?”
My mind raced to gather the right words. “I was talking with Sinclair and he said...”
But King interrupted, his voice gentler now, as if he understood. “Mellie,” he said quietly, “we know. Sinclair called us after we told him about Malice’s death. He’s been helping us, passing on information as soon as he hears anything.”
My throat tightened with emotion. I reached for Haizley’s comforting hand, desperate for reassurance. “The kids?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
