“I brought him ice cream.” She bats her eyelashes, smiling. “Oh, don’t growl. It’s a stressful time, and your boy is working hard.”
She slides through the door, nodding at Tyler, and then spots Ian. “Who the fuck is this, and how’d he get an invite here before me?”
Ian gives her a two finger salute. “Ian Ha?—”
“Ian.” Her entire face creases. “You belong to the Irish.”
“Well, now, it’s just my nationality.”
“You’re an O’Connell.”
“I’m a Hayes.” His voice leaves little room for discussion, which has Tristan frowning between the two of them.
“They were actually just leaving,” he tells Ian.
Tyler sighs, his shoulders drooping. “This will not stand much longer, Tris.”
Before Ian lifts himself off the couch, he whispers, “Don’t forget about me, Blue.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by the nickname if he’s spent time with Luis. He walks toward the door, holding a hand out for Tris like they’ll embrace. Tristan dodges, holding the door open wider.
“Call your fucking brother,” Tristan whispers, but his voice is so hard it easily carries. He shuts the door, turning three locks. “How the fuck did you find this place?”
Adeline blinks, coming out of some deep thought. Her arms are still crossed, giving her that Akatov badass attitude she’s known for. “I told you it’s fucking easy to find this place. You guys need to move.”
It only takes her a few steps before she’s beside me on the sofa. “You know it’s only a matter of time before Ren comes banging on this door too.”
I wipe hair off my face. The blanket is still twisted around me. The clock reads nine o’clock at night, and I’m not sure where all the time went.
“How you doing, Blue?” she asks gently.
“Depressed,” I admit, shifting on the sofa. I don’t really know how to hold myself.
“Fair,” Adeline says, with no judgment. She slaps a manila file on the coffee table. “We’ve got Cade.”
Tristan drops into an armchair.
“What?” I pull the blanket off me.
“Look I know it might be a bit of an overstep,” she says. “He’s technically yours to do whatever you want with, but I thought you’d be more pressed with the whole Spider thing that’s freaking everyone out.”
She opens the manila file. “We traced the five girls you helped escape from Cade’s.”
“We?” I ask.
“I asked Harry to help,” she admits, and I remember she knows the Hallows. “Turns out Hadrian had tracked them down right after it all went down. He wanted to make sure they were safe. That they got whatever they needed.”
“He never mentioned it.” But that’s classic Hadrian—pretending like he doesn’t have a heart.
Adeline slides a photo across the table, and a deep breath slices through me.
The redhead is healthy, but if she were fifteen pounds lighter, her cheeks hollowed out, I’d still recognize her.
“Anabel Winsley,” Adeline states. “She’s the poshest out of all of them. Her family is a smidgeon below the Stuarts when it comes to money and social climbing. As far as I can tell, they’re a lot more aboveboard. But they were embarrassed their daughter had gotten into drugs and been trafficked. I think they were genuinely happy to have their daughter back, but Harry and I got some pretty distinctive ‘wedon’t talk about it’vibes from them.
“So if they don’t talk about it?” Tristan asks, his elbows on his knees.
“Well. . .” Adeline shakes her head, feigned nonchalance dripping from her. “When someone from an equal, if nothigher, social standing comes by and says, ‘But your daughter could help take down a very bad guy.’”
