“What about him?”
“He’s not who you think he is. And before you accuse me of ulterior motives, I’m not lying this time.”
I nearly bark a laugh
He ignores it, bulldozing on. “I know his family, or at least... I know where he comes from. There are rumors, persistent ones.”
My fingers drum the armrest. “Rumors about what?”
“That he’s the son of the current Syndicate leader. Illegitimate, maybe. Raised adjacent, groomed in the shadows. Most children from high ranks are usually separated from their biological parents for safety reasons.”
My blood turns to ice, then fire.
“And you’re telling me this out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I’m telling you this because if he is the Syndicate, then Mara is already safe. Valen would never let anything happen to her, just as long as you three leave her alone.”
Leave her alone.
The words ignite something primal, a roar in my skull. As if we could rip ourselves from her gravity. As if she’s not etched into my bones.
Rage floods me, but I lock it down, releasing his chin instead. His head drops forward and I stand slowly, walking to the metal table and picking up the straight razor. Chase hears the scrape of metal and shifts uncomfortably.
I turn back.
“You just bought yourself another hour.”
He shakes his head, trying to ignore my threat, but I crouch in front of him, letting the razor rest lightly against his cheek. “But if you’re lying—if this is just another game to drive a wedge between us—I’ll peel the truth out of you, one strip at a time.”
I let the blade kiss skin, just enough to bead blood. “So, you better hope to fuck that you’re right.”
If Chase isn’t bullshitting—if Valen’s old man is the Syndicate’s crown—then every glance Valen’s thrown Mara’s way was intel.
Every moment he spent near her was a leash being measured.
And the hit coming for us—for her—might carry his signature.
I leave Chase down in the basement and move upstairs and wait for Mara to come back home.
I have to confront her.
I have to look her in the eye and watch something fracture when I say his name.
I have to find the truth.
She bursts through the door within the hour, Beck and Rook flanking her like shadows. They exchange nods with me—tight, loaded—before peeling off to handle the fallout on frat row. We backed DSN in some petty skirmish, but campus is buzzing now, ripples turning to waves. Better they play cleanup... it keeps us ghosts here.
The less exposed the better.
Mara drops her bags with a thud, kicks off her Mary Jane boots—those damn things that make her legs look endless—and perches on the couch, legs tucked under her. Her scent hits me—vanilla and storm—cutting through the basement stink still on my skin.
“Everything okay?” she asks, voice soft but probing, eyes scanning my face like she can read the chaos etched there.
I don’t sit. Can’t. “How long have you known Valen?”
She frowns, brows knitting. “Since I was born. Why?”
“Humor me.”
