What would Mom say if she came back? What would she want Zayne to do?
“Don't let them kill our girl.”
The door opened. Darkness inside.
He entered without waiting for permission.
The Phaedra wore a long silk robe. The sight of him made the beast within Zayne beat against his chest with every heartbeat, demanding to be released.
“Son.” The Phaedra moved closer, expression pinched. Voice and eyes soft. Too soft. As if the Phaedra actually cared. “This never should have happened.”
Why did the Phaedra feel comfortable seeing Zayne without a guard? He trusted his power over him that much.
No, there must have been a sniper too. No one had ever said the Phaedra employed one in his personal suites, but Zayne had suspected it. The Phaedra took no chances. Meeting him unguarded was an illusion of trust. He’d bet every time he’d ever stood face-to-face with the Phaedra that he had a sniper on him. If not, the Phaedra was a fool.
“Zayne?” The Phaedra stood in front of him now, out of arm’s reach, but close enough that Zayne could get to him fast. “Do you need to sit, son?”
A current of rage swept through his body constantly, keeping him standing and moving and breathing. These games were over. “You knew my mother was in that church.”
“I didn’t. Not until—”
“Don’t lie to me.” No one ever interrupted the Phaedra. And it showed in the way he actually paused. “We’re done lying to each other.”
The comforting tone deepened into one more serious. “You lost your mother today. Are you certain you want to have this conversation now?”
“I’m certain.”
The softness shifted into a sharp-eyed stare. This was the real Phaedra. Calculating. Smart. More than smart. Brilliant. Not all world leaders were. But he was terrifyingly competent. “Very well.”
The Phaedra sat, and Zayne took the chair opposite him. The two stared at one another, perhaps daring the other to speak.
“Why did you do it?” Zayne asked. “Is this a punishment for my father not controlling her?”
“The stability of my empire depends upon my relationship with your father. With your family. Your mother wore a disguise and wasn't identified until she'd already passed.”
Not relenting, he studied the Phaedra, hoping that by giving him the opportunity to speak, he'd offer up information.
“It hurts me that you don't trust my word,” the Phaedra said.
“It hurts me that you killed my mother.”
A flicker of the darkness that filled his eyes in the basement of the church captured his stare. “Did you not kill her as well? You, your father, your brother.”
The cruelty didn't faze him because the wounds were too severe for him to feel anything beyond Mom's death. “Yes. We're all responsible. You're the one who ordered this operation though. You oversaw it personally. And you're too careful not to check the identities of those inside in case you wanted to hold anyone for interrogation.”
“I did order everyone inside to be identified. The officer in charge of the operation, the one who killed your mother, has been taken into custody. I don’t tolerate carelessness. The intel I received said the only valuable target was the elder.”
Pain clutched his heart.
“We were searching for known terrorists, not the family members of high-ranking officials. The oversight is unacceptable, but it's not a conspiracy. If you want to review the reports, see your father. He already confronted me.”
“He did?”
“You two are more alike than you think,” the Phaedra said. “We had this same conversation. This tragedy won't go unanswered. I promised Brandon I would hand the officer over to him.”
This wasn’t what Zayne wanted. That officer followed the Phaedra’s orders. It was the Phaedra who should pay, not only for what he did to Zayne’s mom and the Followers, but to the rest of the empire.
“What will my father do with him?” Zayne asked.
