“Tell me why you did it. Why did you poison your husband?”
She’s speechless, still trying to process. Everything is racing through her brain at once.
“I need you to be honest, Poppy.”
“It—it was either him or me.” She hesitates. “He put me in the hospital seven times. Each time was worse. The last time he broke my arm in two places, cracked three ribs—one punctured my liver, and I had a concussion. I—I almost bled to death internally. I—” As she speaks, memories explode inside her and overwhelm the present. Her eyes prickle with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I—I’m not a killer. I was so trapped, and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to leave, and he always came after me. I also reported him to the police, and they did nothing.One of the detectives was connected to the organized crime ring that Paz did jobs for, and he told Paz I’d been at the station. And—”
“That’s why, Poppy.”
She stills.
Lillith studies her. “That’s why I hired the best defense counsel I could find for you.”
She blinks.
Lillith leans forward. “I’ve been watching you for years, Poppy. I always had some idea where you were.” Lillith swallows, wavers. Emotion shows in the tightening of her features. “I was watching even when the paramedics came rushing out of the hospital to rescue you from the Tardis. You see, it was me, Poppy, who phoned the police from the booth. I waited just until I saw the EMTs arrive and take you into the hospital. I got away before the cops came. But I left only after I knew you were in safe arms.” Tears leak down her cheek.
“You? It wasyouwho abandoned me?”
“You’re mine, Poppy.”
Roshaan
Roshaan checks her watch. It’s getting darker outside now. The wind is picking up, and the moon is visible low on the horizon. The clock is ticking down to Theo’s marquee event—it’ll start when they anchor in the caldera.
It’s time for her to deliver the masks to the elite guests who have reserved spots for the flagship show, billed as Theo’s most “dangerous, truth-piercing performance yet.”
The irony is not lost on her, and she’s wire-tense as she enters the wardrobe and dressing room area to collect the trays containing a selection of gold, silver, and bronze masks.
The room is empty apart from Theo, who is deeply absorbed as he paces up and down, mentally rehearsing. She can see he’s already begun to slip into his stage alter ego, Sorin the Magnificent, the darkly charismatic seer into souls. He hasn’t even noticed her.
She tries to get past quickly as she aims for the costume and props area. But he sees her, and stops in his tracks.
“Roshaan! Where in the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”
She almost trips. “Theo, I—ah, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
His gaze pins hers. He watches her intently. He’s not in costume or makeup yet, but something about his stage persona—the dark magician, the mind reader—is already cloaked around him. She can see Sorin smoldering inside his eyes.
She used to love witnessing this transformation in him. She found it seductive. Now she’s watching a monster surfacing in him. The devil-sorcerer. The con man.
Her mind spirals back to Avi Galev’s words.
You’re a dead girl walking, Roshaan. If you want to keep walking, this is how it’s going to go.
“Did you get them?” he asks.
“You know I got them. You could see on your laptop the feeds went dead.”
Theo studies her. She shifts on her feet. She’s afraid Sorin inside himcanactually see into her soul, read her mind, that he knows what Avi Galev has ordered her to do.
He comes closer.
She scents him. Feels him, cloaking, wrapping, tightening around her. Smothering. Controlling. Sweat prickles over her skin.
“Where are they?” He almost hisses the question.
“I have them. It’s fine.”
