Lark’s messenger icon flashes, drawing my attention back to my laptop.
LarkFerraro: I’m realizing now that this probably just makes me look more guilty. I was trying to do the opposite, to prove I’m not involved. Though, now you’ll assume I deleted something, which defeats the entire purpose. Sorry.
LarkFerraro has left the chat.
I frown, then connect directly to the laptop she’s using to send her a response.
And I don’t bother with my alternate identity handle, instead using my real name.
Johan: You have nothing to prove to me, sweetheart. If you were involved, I forgive you. End of discussion.
I leave the computer before she can get angry with me for intruding on her privacy. Although, technically, that computer she’s using is mine.
But she’s slowly making it her own.
“What the hell are you doing?” Laz demands, his irate tone grabbing my attention.
I look at him. “Why are you yelling?”
He gapes at me. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said?”
“Pretty sure he’s been ignoring you while flirting with a certain hacker,” Noah says. “Kind of jealous, if I’m honest. I would love a reason to tune you out.”
“Fuck off, Noah.”
“Happily,” the enforcer returns, standing. “I’ll just go knot our?—”
“Is neither of you taking this seriously?” Laz demands. “We’re at war.”
“Yes and no,” I murmur, pulling up the message exchange that Lark found. “It wasn’t a true hit.”
Which is why I didn’t find any bounties with my name on them while searching the dark web.
Spinning my computer around to show Laz, I let him read the written exchange between Bastian and Uriah.
“It didn’t even come from Giovanni, but from the elders who advise him. And it was meant to be a kidnapping, not an assassination. I assume their intention was to force a trade—me for Lark.” I shrug. “Pretty standard.”
“Where did you find all this?” Laz demands after he finishes reading.
Noah takes the laptop next, wanting to catch up.
While he skims the conversation, I reply, “Lark found it and sent it to me.”
Laz’s jaw ticks. “That’s convenient.”
“Yes. And if you read my conversation with her”—I take the laptop back from Noah to pull up that screen and flip it around to show Laz—“you’ll see she already commented on that.”
I let him read everything so he sees what she said about being afraid of him, too.
I know he’s caught that part when his lips curl downward.
“She doesn’t trust me,” he says, mouth tightening.
“Do you trust her?” Noah counters before I can voice the same question. “Do you think she helped her brother?”
Laz considers it for a beat. “I don’t know.” He looks at Noah and then at me. “What are your instincts telling you?”
“That she had a good reason to want me dead in the beginning,” I reply without missing a beat. “I’m the one who tracked her down. I enabled her capture, too.”
