“And I want to be there for it.” I step closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. “It’s not just Hans that needs revenge, Blue. My father’s death hasn’t been fully avenged either. These are the same people on my list. And even if they weren’t on the list, they are still the Crow. The same organization that murdered the only family I had left.”
I can see him processing this, weighing it against his need to protect me.
“I’m going,” I say again, softer this time but no less determined. “This is my choice.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The standoff stretches until Ash throws his hands up in exasperation.
“Fuuuuuuck, she’s going!” he declares. “Blue, you’ve been outmaneuvered. Accept defeat gracefully.”
Blue turns his glare on Ash, who just grins back without an ounce of concern. But I can see something in Blue’s posture shifting, the fight going out of him as he realizes he’s lost this particular battle.
“Fine,” Blue says finally, the word coming out like it tastes bitter. “But you follow orders. No heroics, no improvisation, no getting yourself killed because you want to prove a point.”
“Deal,” I say immediately, before he can change his mind.
“We move at midnight.”
The finality in his voice should feel like victory, but something doesn’t sit right. I watch Blue’s face—the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands have already curled into fists like he’s preparing for battle. He’s going to walk into that hideout expecting to die. Expecting this to be some kind of redemption through violence.
That’s not what I want.
“Wait,” I say, the idea forming even as I speak. “What if there’s another way? Another way where vengeance can... taste better.”
Blue and Ash both turn to look at me, curiosity replacing the tension.
“I’m listening,” Blue says carefully.
I take a breath, knowing what I’m about to suggest is insane. But it’s also perfect.
“But the plan does require both of us to die,” I add, watching his face for his reaction.
Chapter Forty-One
Saylor
The mirror in Vespera’s workshop reflects someone I barely recognize.
Gone is the girl who sang at White Note in sequined dresses and hoped nobody would notice she was falling apart. The woman staring back at me has sharp cheekbones courtesy of expert contouring, lips painted dark enough to look like dried blood, and eyes so dramatically lined they could cut glass. Vespera has given me a wig that transforms my dark hair to platinum blonde, sleek and straight in a way that completely changes the shape of my face.
“Stop fidgeting,” Vespera says, making final adjustments to the wig that’s giving me this new identity. “You look perfect. Dangerous and beautiful—exactly what we need.”
The dress she’s chosen makes me look like I belong at the kind of party where people disappear forever. Black silk that hugs every curve, with a neckline just suggestive enough to be distracting. The heels add four inches to my height and make me feel like I could step on someone’s throat without breaking stride.
“How do I look?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Like death in designer clothing.” Vespera grins with artistic pride. “Blue is going to swallow his tongue when he sees you.”
Through the workshop windows, I can see Blue pacing in the clearing beyond Vespera’s house. He’s been out there for twenty minutes, checking his watch and running his hands through his hair. The sight makes my stomach flutter with something that isn’t fear.
“Remind me of the story again so I don’t fuck this up,” I say, smoothing the silk over my hips and still getting used to how the dress moves.
