The hive has been kicked tonight. Sam hasn’t seen the estate like this before, where dozens of people are bustling about and there is a low din of frantic chatter in the air. It’s so easy to forget how many people are here at any given time, working behind the scenes on Grand Central’s various operations. But tonight, everyone is buzzing angrily, eager for blood. At first, she thinks this is all due to word spreading about a potential hit on Will. Then she overhears some of the conversations and realizes that it’s also because Diamond has made the rare move of cancelling a flight to come here, and has just returned unannounced.
“—to make sure Ms. Taylor is—”
“—no, she’ll want to take it in her room—”
“—no other calls for her, tell them—”
“—have to hurry, she’s already—”
Diamond, Diamond, Diamond.
They head toward the matriarch’s house, a building that, until now, Sam has only ever seen in glimpses behind curtains of bougainvillea. The door is already open. Hanover guides Will inside and Sam follows in their wake, stepping into a narrow hall that opens to a vaulted living room.
Diamond is already here, sitting opposite a graying man Sam doesn’t recognize. The woman says nothing as they file in, Will easing onto the couch across from his mother, Sam sitting beside him, while Hanover takes a seat beside Diamond.
Sam looks around. Now that she’s in here, she feels mildly surprised. The space is dark but unexpectedly inviting, ash wood floors contrasting with Spanish archways and ceiling beams. The fireplace is crackling, and through the windows lining the wall, Sam can see a view of the entire cityscape of Angel City, its lights partially obscured behind a curtain of fog.
Sam’s eyes dart back to Will, still searching for a hint that something between them has changed. That he remembers pulling her close, his lips brushing against hers in that strange, unconsummated kiss. But if he does, he shows no signs of it; his attention is on Diamond now.
Diamond takes a sip of her tea, then places it carefully on the table between them and leans back in her chair. She has always had an unhealthy cast to her complexion, but tonight she is even paler, her cheekbones prominent and eyes piercing. She is magnificent in a sickly, regal way, and her face, expressionless to most, is the warning of a storm. Sam’s heart flutters with dread and anticipation.
“Tell me what happened,” Diamond says to her son. Her voice has grown harsher and hoarser over the years, too.
“It was a calculated hit,” Will answers.
He tells her of the meeting that turned into a fight, the slaying of their two negotiators. Then of his flight out of the hotel, of Sam coming to find him, of the men responsible. One is Maclan, a representative from a Lumines factory. The other, Zhukov, is a polemist and the one responsible for shooting Will. Then Sam gives her account of the evening, filling in around the edges of Will’s story. When Diamond asks her what information she gathered from the crowd, she mentions the extra Lumines crewmen who had been stationed throughout the hotel. Even though the effects of her last sand dose have started wearing off, her brain still feels drenched in light, and when she closes her eyes she can see the imprint of her memories branded against the darkness, red and glowing like a too-sunny day.
The man across from Diamond speaks for the first time. “For them to move against Will like this is very unusual.” The man’s voice is reedy, hollow like a reaper’s. “They’re going to risk making the streets bleed.”
“I suspect they want it,” Diamond says. “They’ve been ramping up operations for months. They think they’re going to win the election this year, install their own mayor. It’s making them bold.”
“Everyone will be watching you after this,” Hanover tells Will. “The news will be widespread by morning. You’ll need at least several weeks to recover from a wound like that.” He looks at Diamond. “Several weeks of not showing his face in public is going to do damage to us.”
“Only if we let it,” Will says. “They’ve struck early and hard because they’re confident that this will throw us into disarray.”
“But they failed,” Sam interjects.
The conversation pauses, and they turn to look at her.
“Your thoughts?” Diamond says.
Sam thinks of Ari, how he took a step back and released her. “They failedto kill you,” she says, nodding at Will, “and to do it discreetly. It was supposed to be a clean hit, and yet it wasn’t.”
“Because of you,” Will says.
His expression doesn’t change, but the blunt praise from him startles her. His gaze is as intense as ever, the gleam in his eyes sharp and searing. She shudders, pulled taut between fear and desire.
His lips on hers, the way he whispered her name.
“Not me,” she says. “You’re alive because of Shakespeare.”
Diamond looks at Sam. “You confronted him?”
She feels dizzy as she replies, “Yes. I knew him when we were young.”
At that, both Diamond and Will lift an eyebrow in unison.
Sam hesitates as images of Ari flood her mind. The knife he pulled out of the wall and pointed at her, the way they faced each other in the hotel’s hallway. The feeling of his hand closed around her wrist, shoving her against the brick wall, his face inches from hers. The abrupt shift in her emotions when he touched her, the shudder that coursed through her body.
