Oops. I lift up a hand. “I know they are. Sorry.” I flop my leg over the sill and drop down on the other side, careful not to trample the flowers. “Thanks and I love you. Get ready to attack at four.” I blow kisses, turn, and run across the lawn to the forest.
The trails are familiar as I move between trees to a small alcove where I usually hide my vehicles while visiting. There are no cameras anywhere near.
Reaching the truck, I open the door just as a gleaming town car tears around the bend and screeches to a stop at my side.
Two men jump out.
“Damn it.” I shove the door, but the closest guy is quicker. His hand clamps on my arm, yanks me forward, and before I can twist free, he tosses me into the back ofthe town car. I hit hard, palms scraping the pristine carpet. The air smells like new car and real leather.
I push up, knees stinging. “Ah, shit.”
Sylveria Rendale sits across from me in a blue ball gown, the kind that belongs at a gala, not here. The skirt is bunched at her knees, creased from the ride. A row of diamonds circles her throat, bright even in the dim car light. Her hair is pinned tight, not a strand out of place. “How are you, my dear stepdaughter?”
“Just great,” I mutter, sliding onto the seat. “How did you know I was here?”
“I’ve been tracking Rosalie’s calls and texts. Even though you used a burner phone, Rosalie didn’t.” Sylveria smooths her dress with long fingers, her nails painted red. “The best part is we’re the only ones who know where you are right now. Most of the underworld still thinks Justice Beathach has you.”
Well, fantastic. If I end up dead, he takes the blame. Darn it, Rosalie. We all figured she was so safe now protected by the Russian mob. Why hadn’t I thought to give her a burner phone? What was I thinking?
I glance at the door. The hulking bodyguard wedges himself there, with his wide shoulders blocking the window, hands loose at his sides. Watching with no light in his eyes. Not even a glimmer. There will be no help for me from him. “I suppose you still want me dead,” I mutter.
“I really do,” Sylveria says, and then she smiles.
TWENTY-FIVE
Ella
Unlike the other social media companies, TimeGem Moments located its headquarters several miles outside of Silicon Valley. The building is a massive spread of metal and glass, two stories above ground and five more hidden below. The grounds are perfect, unnervingly so, with every hedge and path lined to precision. Statues glimmer as if they’ve been carved straight out of diamonds.
For a second I almost believe the sparkles. Then I wonder how the guards keep anyone from rushing in and prying the stones loose. I glance sideways at Sylveria, suspicion pressing against my ribs. The realization lands sharp. “Those aren’t diamonds,” I say, my voice catching. “I read an exposé on you a few years back. They swore the statues were covered in diamonds. The eyes. The nails. All of it. They’re not diamonds. How did you fool the reporter?”
Sylveria doesn’t flinch. She turns her face toward the window, her tone flat, almost bored. “A couple are real. You just don’t know which ones we showed. The one thereporter saw was real. I told him the rest were authentic, and he wanted to believe that.”
My father would’ve hated that. “Of course he did.”
We roll up to the front of the building. Security cameras stare down at us from every angle, cold and unblinking. My stomach knots. “Are those on?” I try to keep my voice steady.
“I believe they’re temporarily down,” she answers carelessly.
“Wonderful,” I mutter, though my palms are slick.
We ditch the car and walk inside, where the air feels thick, almost heavy with memory. Nostalgia twists at me, but it’s poisoned. I remember coming here with my father, when things were still good. Before he married her.
If only he hadn’t.
At the elevator, she presses her palm to the scanner, once to open, once more to close, and again to push the floor button. My chest tightens. My palm won’t work here. I’m trapped without her.
The elevator descends fast, the walls humming as we drop. The space feels too small, the air too still, and every breath reminds me that I don’t belong here right now. Not until I retake the platform. My pulse won’t settle.
I’m almost grateful the hulking guy with the dead eyes isn’t here. If I make it back up out of this place, I’ll have to deal with him. For now, it’s Sylveria at my side, her presence pressing in until I can feel it under my skin.
“What do you need from me, anyway?” My voice scrapes the air, sharper than I intend.
“We’ve had a breach in our system,” Sylveria says. “And the diamond that powers the entire service seems … weakened.”
I blink. What in the world? “Defineweakened.”
“I can’t.” She lifts a shoulder, her tone flat. “When I try to charge it, I don’t feel well.”
