The tattoo parlor. Ares’s breathing grows shallow. He hadn’t understood why the scene had even featured in the vision, but now it makes sense. The tattoo artist must have recognizedChanel and told Long Ge. Eyes and ears all over the city. Always watching, listening.
“She’s also the girl you were risking your life to defend at the Cave, weren’t you?” Long Ge says, with the leisure of a kidnapper circling his hostage. Nowhere for Ares to run, they both know it. Pinned down by fear, his ties to Chanel, ties to his brother. Might as well have his hands bound to this chair. “I should’ve made the connection sooner. Fancy playing the part of the hero, hmm?”
Ares stays silent.
Yet Long Ge keeps talking, unbothered by the task of carrying the conversation alone. “Though I can see how a girl like that would inspire heroic feelings in anyone. Very beautiful, isn’t she? I met her just yesterday, and she looks so much like her mother it’s shocking. Almost identical to her mother at her age. Herbehavior, though—now, that was very disappointing. Kept interfering with my business for some reason. Seems to be under the impression I’m going to harm her mother, the silly girl.”
A chill creeps down Ares’s spine. “What do you want?”
“It’s very simple. Coco Cao hasn’t signed my contract yet,” Long Ge says. “I have reason to believe that her hesitation stems from Chanel. But since you and Chanel are so obviously in love with each other, why don’t you put in a good word for me? Assure her I have her mother’s best interests at heart? I don’t care how you go about it—propose to her, if you must. I just want the contract finalized.”
“He’s obsessed with my mother,”Chanel had said.
Ares starts to protest, but Long Ge lifts a finger to silence him.
“Bring the contract,” he says, “and I’ll have your brother come pick it up. How’s that sound? It’s been a while since you last saw him, hasn’t it? It’ll be a nice family reunion.”
Ares freezes in his chair, trapped by some force infinitely greater than he is.
It all comes back to power, or the lack of it. It’s his fault his brother is gone in the first place, but also his fault that his brother is still missing. It wouldn’t be like this if he were stronger, braver, wiser, richer, smarter, faster,better.
He swallows, silently hating Long Ge, hating all the men who flounder around and waste away their fortunes on luxury watches and boring mansions and private jets and overpriced booze. If he could command their resources, he would bring his brother back home in an instant. Power, he’s realized, is the closest thing to magic in real life. It can open up entire worlds, create options that simply wouldn’t exist otherwise. If he were more powerful, he wouldn’t have to choose between two futures. Wouldn’t have to bleed for clues. Wouldn’t have to fight against Chanel when all he really wants is to drop the weapons and draw her to his chest.
Wouldn’t have to make an impossible decision now.
“I’ll send you the time and address,” Long Ge says cheerily. “And forgive me for not seeing you out—I do have a rather full schedule today.”
27
Chanel
When the dreaded day arrives, my only remaining obstacle is Ares.
I wait until the middle of history class to execute my plan. While everyone else is studying, I frown down at my collar, patting the empty space there. Then I speak up, my voice ringing clearly through the classroom. “Hey, has anyone seen my necklace?”
The response is instant. Everyone except Ares lifts their head from their worksheets, and even Mr. Murphy pushes away the bowl of Caesar salad he’s been loudly munching on for the past ten minutes.
“What does it look like?” Bobby asks.
“It’s kind of shaped like a heart. Red rubies, with this huge diamond in the middle.” I shake my head, feigning confusion. “I was literally wearing it when I walked into the room half an hour ago, I swear. I don’t know how it isn’t here anymore....”
“Did it fall off just now, maybe?” Rainie asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “But I’ve looked around my desk, and it’s not here. It’s not on the floor either.” I heave a dramatic sigh, then add in a deliberately unconvincing voice. “No, that’s fine. Sorry, guys, go back to what you were doing. I’ll try to find it myself.”
“We can help you search for it,” one of the guys at the back volunteers. Jason. He’d asked me out three times last year, even though we’d never had a proper conversation, and had once written a poem about my eyes, which he’d started reading out loud to me before I stopped him for the sake of his own dignity. “It must be somewhere in this room.”
“Really?” I shoot him my brightest, most grateful smile. “That’ssonice of you to offer.”
He almost leaps out of his seat. “Don’t worry. We’ll find it,” he says, like he’s making a solemn vow.
There’s a flurry of activity as people start checking around them, flipping their textbooks over and pushing aside their laptops and scanning the gray carpets and chairs. I pretend to join in, routinely shuffling some papers and remembering to look concerned. But I keep my attention pinned on Ares’s pencil case, waiting for someone to notice the silver glint of the chain dangling out the half-open zipper.
Jason’s the one who finds it. “Hey, isn’t that—” He pulls the chain out, holding up the evidence.
The classroom falls silent.
“Dude, did you steal Chanel’s necklace?” Jason demands.
