“It’s just some of his idiot friends,” she said, stepping into their mother’s field of vision, her fingers already weaving together their falsehood. “They’re surprising him for his birthday. I told them the neighbors are going to call the cops if they’re any louder.”
His mother’s eyes flicked from Tess to him. Too long. Too long. Every time he blinked, he saw Vivienne with the bag over her head. Vivienne tripping into the van, her feet kicking for purchase.
Some of the tension went out of his mother’s shoulders. “Keep it down, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” he said. “I will. I’m sorry. I love you.”
Her smile was warm. Her illness had robbed her of so much, but her smile stayed the same. Photograph perfect. The most consistent point in his swirling universe. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “We saved you a cupcake.”
His heart was going to tear in two. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Be safe.”
And then she was gone. Tess pulled the door shut behind them, firing off one last wide-eyed glance in Thomas’s direction. In the garage, the dogs bayed like wolves. He turned, ready to fight, and found a solitary man standing there. A man he recognized. He’d seen him just the other day, arguing with Philip Farrow in the churchyard.
“There’s no need to lie to your mother,” said Christian Price, with surprising gentleness. “Go back into your house.”
“Not without Vivienne.”
“Vivienne Farrow has been promised to the House.” Christian Price’s eyes glittered in the dark. “Fate has a sense of humor, it seems. I’ve been searching for her for a long time. I had no idea she was right under my nose all these years.”
“You’re the chairman,” Thomas said, understanding knocking into him.
Christian Price smiled. “I’ve heard some of the pledges like to call me that, yes. It’s all a game to them. A drawn out, real world campaign.”
“I don’t care what it is,” said Thomas. “You can’t have her.”
Christian’s smile was not unkind. There was sympathy in it, tucked in the razor-sharp corners of his mouth. “Your dedication to Vivienne is admirable. I’m told you’ve acted valiantly. You managed to outmaneuver my men back in Connecticut. It took them hours to track you down. It’s impressive. I truly mean that. But this is the end of the road.”
He turned without another word, shoes clicking along the weed-throttled brick. On the horizon, the first pinpricks of sunlight had begun to bleed through the trees. A hazy dawn, creeping into the black night. Panic clawed at Thomas’s throat.
“She’s your daughter,” he said. “Isn’t she?”
Christian Price faltered to a stop. He didn’t turn around, but Thomas could see the tight line of his shoulders limned in the burgeoning sunlight. Emboldened, he continued.
“I just find it interesting,” Thomas said, “that’s all.”
“What’s that?” The question came out sharp, some of his earlier warmth evaporating.
“Just that you have two children, and both of them are subjects of interest in the House of Hades.”
There followed a pause, chilly and absolute.
“Three,” Christian Price corrected him. “I had three children.”
He presented it as fact, no measure of grief in it at all. This time, when he walked away, Thomas chased after him.
“I’ll tell Philip Farrow everything,” he said. “I’ll tell him it was you who took her. I’ve worked for him long enough to know he has no issues retaliating when he feels like he’s been crossed. If you take his stepdaughter, what do you think he’ll do to your son?”
“Both of my sons are dead,” said Christian coldly.
“Not Colton,” said Thomas. “Not yet. But he will be.”
“That,” said Christian Price, turning to face Thomas in full, “is a very dangerous thing to say. I’m not sure you want me to call that bluff. From what I’m told, C. J. is a friend yours.”
“He’d understand,” said Thomas. “He’d do the same.”
Christian studied him for a long time. Long enough for the sky to grow lighter. Finally, he asked, “What is it you want?”
