Alexander, the letter began.I know you’re not particularly happy with me, so I’ll make this brief. Whatever your plan is, it’s too late. The Scriniarii have already gotten it. I don’t think it will take long forAV to figure out what she needs. She’s smarter than I ever was. When that happens, I can guess at her next move. I don’t want to explain in writing, but I will say this: Once I tell you my suspicions, you’ll want to break the promise you made.
A single word had been scrawled at the bottom of the page in lieu of a signature:Don’t.
Zaria read the letter again, then a third time. Some foolish part of her hoped repetition might ignite a spark of understanding, but eventually she had to admit she couldn’t make head or tail of it.Alexandermust be referring to Ward, but Zaria couldn’t fathom why Cecile would have been writing to him. Based on what she’d told Zaria, she’d left the kingpin’s employ the day she saw him destroy Kane’s family. Furthermore, what connection did Cecile have to the Scriniarii, and who was AV? Zaria’s immediate thought was of Vaughan, but the letter seemed to describe a woman. What was AV planning to do, and what promise had been made?
Finally, since Cecile had obviously thought this information of great importance: Why hadn’t she ever sent it?
“I think I found something.” Zaria walked leadenly into the sitting room, her mind still spinning. Kane was sprawled on the ruined couch as if he hadn’t a care in the world, one of his legs slung over the arm. Fletcher sat on the floor nearby, knees drawn up to his chest.
“Show me,” Kane replied, rising to meet her. Zaria shoved the letter at him with enough force that the paper crinkled. He unfolded it, staring balefully at her before dipping his head to read. She watched his eyes flick back and forth.
“What does it say?” asked Fletcher.
Kane read it aloud. When he’d finished, he flipped the letter over just as Zaria had done. “It’s not signed.”
“It’s Cecile’s handwriting,” Zaria said. “She never sent it.”
“Strange. I wonderwhenit was written.”
“It must have been recent. Why would Cecile keep it otherwise? She probably just didn’t have the chance to throw it away before…”Before she was murderedwere the words Zaria couldn’t bring herself to say.
“If thiswasintended for Ward,” Fletcher said, puncturing the silence, “it could be an old letter. Cecile might have brought it with her when she left.”
Kane made a face. “Why would she do that?”
“Cecile did say Ward was still sending her money,” Zaria said, abruptly recalling their conversation in the church. “He was paying her to keep her mouth shut about… certain things.” Specifically Kane’s parents’ murder, which Zaria wasn’t about to bring up. “She said it was because Ward liked having power over her more than he wanted to kill her, but what if that wasn’t the whole truth?”
“It seems unlikely,” Kane mused, “but I’ll look through Ward’s things again when we return. Maybe he saved some of their correspondence as well. Personally, I’m more interested in who the letter isabout. It’s a rather strange coincidence that Cecile mentions the Scriniarii. Was she one of them?”
Zaria gave a heavy shrug. “Not as far as I knew. But again, that doesn’t mean much.”
“Forget the Scriniarii,” Fletcher said. “Whoever AV is, it sounds like she’s planning to do something bad.”
“It could have already happened, though,” Zaria pointed out, not sure if that eventuality was better or worse.
Kane no longer appeared to be listening—he was occupied with checking the time. The next moment, he leapt to his feet. “It’s time we headed to the meeting location.”
Zaria shoved the letter into her pocket. Apprehension grippedher—not merely because of what she was about to do, but because of Kane’s demeanor. She had expected to see that familiar feral glint of excitement in his gaze. Instead, however, he seemed oddly agitated. Almost… afraid?
Fletcher had noticed it, too, his face contorting in a frown that Kane didn’t register.
“Are you sure about this?” Kane asked Zaria, his voice urgent.
She lifted her chin. “It was my idea.”
“I’m well aware. But you’ll be waiting there by yourself, remember.”
“It’s a little late to decide you don’t trust me with this, Kane.”
The slight curve of his mouth was rueful. “That’s not what bothers me,” he said. “That’s not it at all.”
Zaria waited at a crossroads, her heart in her throat.
She knew Kane and Fletcher were watching from around the corner, but executing this plan, she realized now, was a lot different from conceptualizing it. She felt as though anyone in the vicinity might be able to hear her thunderous pulse. She did her best to push the trepidation away; she might be the bait, but this washertrap.
Why, then, did she feel as if she were walking into one?
She pulled on the fraying sleeve of her coat, then reminded herself—again—not to fidget. Despite everything, leaving Cecile’s had been harder than Zaria would’ve anticipated. Now that she knew where the woman had lived, she couldn’t stop thinking about the destroyed rooms and the profound sense of emptiness within each one. It hurt more, somehow, knowing the apartment now stood desecrated and vacant. As if Cecile hadn’t mattered and was already forgotten.
