"There you are." Colt leans in the doorway, dressed in a tailored suit that makes his shoulders look broad and strong. My brother. Only a year older. The only one who knows what it was like to grow up as Eleanor's second-favorite project.
"You look beautiful," he says, stepping into the room. His eyes—a dark and deep Ashby blue, just like mine, sweep overme with approval. "But people are starting to ask questions, Savannah. Marcus is looking for you."
Of course he is. Marcus is always lookin’ for me when I'm not where he expects me to be.
"I know Legion is out," I say, instead of answering. The words taste dangerous on my tongue. Like saying his name might summon him. If only. "I went by the trailer. It's empty."
Even Mercy is gone. That skinny little ghost of a girl with her too-old eyes and her too-young face. Gone with her brother, I suppose.
"So he came back and got her," Colt says, not asking. "Took her where?"
That's what I wanna know. Where did he go? Did he leave Drybone? Did he find someone while he was inside? Some woman who writes letters and waits for men who've done terrible things?
Maybe.
It costs me a lot to admit that.
A piece of my heart actually cracks open.
But it's just to prepare myself for my inevitable future and has little to do with Legion ever actually… replacing me.
We're… kind of a thing.
"The clubhouse," I say, certain as sunrise. "He's at the clubhouse and he took Mercy with him."
Which is no place for a nine-year-old girl. But then, neither was that falling-down trailer with its empty cupboards and broken locks. Neither was being left alone while everyone who should have protected her, disappeared one by one.
I sigh, my shoulders dropping an inch. "I'm coming."
Colt, the only Ashby brother who always takes my side, nods and steps away to let me pass.
He never judges, though he probably should.
He never lectures, though I could probably use one now and then.
He only sees and hears me. The real me. The sad me.
My heels click against the hardwood as I walk toward the stairs. Each step takes me closer to the future I'm supposed to want.
Colt doesn't follow. Will probably show up later, but he hates the jail cell this mansion has become just as much as I do.
That's why I can talk about Legion with him.
He gets me in a way that neither Wyatt nor Cash ever will.
Outside, the night air wraps around me like silk. Warm enough for bare shoulders, cool enough that goosebumps rise on my skin. The fairy lights strung between trees cast everything in gold. The white tent glows from within, making shadows dance across the outside.
Three hundred people waiting to celebrate the union of two families.
Two fortunes.
Two futures.
And there he is—Marcus White Jr., golden boy of Montana politics. Georgetown Law. Son of Montana State Senator White. Future congressman, if his father has anything to say about it.
He sees me and smiles that campaign-poster smile. Perfect teeth. Perfect hair. Perfect life waiting to fold me into it.
His lips find my neck as I reach him. Warm and soft and nothing like I want.
