1

R oman was in bad shape, far worse than he’d admit to.

Once I’d dosed him with a double whammy of anti-inflammatory pills and pain meds, he fell into a restless sleep. If I’d found any sedatives when I raided the first aid kit, I would have thrown those into the mix as well. He was bruised and battered, but his absolute exhaustion worried me the most. Roman was young and fit, a powerhouse of strength. Despite the tumultuous events of the last couple of hours, that exhaustion did not feel natural.

I sat vigil throughout the night, cooling his forehead with a damp cloth even though he didn’t have a fever. Holding a compress to his bruised jaw and eye. Checking his pulse to make sure it held steady.

At some point, my own exhaustion obviously caught up to me.

When I awoke, I was still seated on the chair beside him, my body tilted forward with my cheek plastered to the edge of the bed.

My head felt like a foggy graveyard. My limbs were entombed in iron. I groaned, curling a hand around my neck to massage the cramp as I straightened in the chair—and last night came rushing back to me.

The Foundation Ball, my face lit up on the screens, the guards chasing Roman and me through the passageways of the building…

My gaze darted to Roman, and relief flooded me when I saw the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling.

He’d thrown off the covers.

His hair was plastered to his forehead and I felt there for a fever, but his skin was cool to the touch. Either a fever had come on and broken, or his hair was damp from the cloth I’d used to cool his forehead just in case. That had probably been unnecessary, but the gel compress appeared to have been useful. His eye was bruised, the skin already turning dark purple, and there was still some swelling at his jaw, but his face had looked a whole lot worse last night.

A sudden pounding on the front door startled me. From the furious sound, this wasn’t the first time they’d knocked and they’d lost patience. Was this what had woken me?

My gaze darted to Roman, but thankfully he hadn’t stirred.

I jumped up and hurried from the bedroom, closing the inter-leading door to the living room with a soft click behind me. A glance at my watch showed it was a few minutes past midday. I thought I’d only napped for an hour or so at Roman’s bedside, but I’d slept the morning away. No wonder I had a cramp in my neck.

I made it to the front door before the pounding started up again. Was that really necessary? When I opened the door, my irritation evaporated.

“Jessie.” I stood back so she could come in. “How did you get past the guard at the barrier?”

Jessie ignored the stupid question, and it was stupid. The Sisters of Capra had toppled the old regime last night. The councilmen and their heirs— Daniel —were being held at the Guard Station across from Berkley House. Of course there was no guard posted at the Parklands barrier—they were all behind bars. Anyone who’d resisted was locked up. Every Guard Station in Capra was probably bulging at the seams.

Jessie didn’t come inside. She stood there on the threshold, hands tucked into the pockets of her bulky winter coat. “Is it true?”

I wasn’t sure what part, exactly, she was asking about. It didn’t matter.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s all true.”

“But… How?” Her disturbed gaze searched mine, as if my eyes held all the answers. “Why?”

“Jessie, let’s talk inside.” I tugged her forward by the hand, and she didn’t resist as I closed the door on the blustery chill outside. It was the beginning of December and winter had arrived with vengeance.

“We just need to keep the noise down,” I said as we moved along the narrow, enclosed porch to the kitchen. “Roman is sleeping.”

Jessie went to sit at the oak table while I made coffee in the expresso pot. My gaze kept darting to her. She sat forward with her elbows on the table. She’d slid her hands down her face and kept them there, dragging the skin beneath her eyes. She looked broken. That’s what this truth did to a person.

The pot hissed and I prepared two mugs of coffee. By the time I joined Jessie around the table, she still hadn’t said a word.

But as I pushed one mug in front of her, her eyes met mine. “Our eggs aren’t rotten. We can have children.”

“Not anymore,” I said softly. “Up until the age of around fourteen or fifteen, maybe later in some cases. In The Smoke, they harvest the eggs of girls before that age. It’s too late for us, Jessie.”

“Yes, of course…” She sucked in a long, slow breath and, as she expelled it, the air of depression hanging over her turned heated. “You didn’t tell me. You never said a word.”

“I told you most of it,” I argued. I had. “And I was going to tell you the rest, I swear. But I know how much it hurts. I was just waiting for the right time.”

Her brown eyes sharpened on me. “The right time? Sure. I had to find out with everyone else, when you screened it to the whole town! You didn’t trust me? What did you think I’d do? Shout it from the street corners before you got your chance to shock Capra and use it to overthrow the council?”

“That’s not how it happened.”

I reached for her and she straightened in her chair, backing away from my touch as if I were a leper.

“Jessie.” That sharp look in her eyes was a knife cutting into my chest. “Don’t be mad.”

She shook her head so vigorously, her glossy black curls slapped her cheeks. “Do you have any idea what it felt like, seeing your face lit up on that screen, hearing your secrets spill out, and knowing how much you kept from me?”

“That’s not fair, Jessie. I told you almost everything, and the reason I held back on our eggs is because—”

“Don’t!” She slashed a hand through the air between us. “You led a revolution last night. A revolution, Georga!”

“I didn’t lead anything.” Ice shivers covered my skin. My hands wrapped the warm mug of coffee, but nothing could shift the cold. “That was the Sisters of Capra. Geneva.”

“Our entire world up-ended last night and you couldn’t be bothered to give me a minute’s warning?”

“I didn’t know that was going down,” I said. “I had no idea what the Sisterhood had planned.”

Jessie didn’t believe me. The scorn on her face cut just as deeply as the look in her eyes and the sting of her tone. “That was you on the screens. You were speaking. You were exposing the lies and hurts. Your face. Your mouth. Your words.”

“Yes, that was me, but I didn’t know they were going to use it for that,” I protested. “And I certainly didn’t know they were going to use it last night. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have given you some warning?”

Her brows hitched. “Yes, I honestly think that.”

Was she right? If I had known, would I have told her? Could I have said anything without betraying the Sisterhood?

“Just like you never said anything about being part of this Sisterhood,” she went on. “ The Sisters of Capra. ”

She said it like it tasted bad in her mouth.

My heart fell. “You’re not a Sister of Capra.”

“I’d never heard of them before last night.” Her eyes widened. “How long have you been part of this organization?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How long?” she demanded.

“My mother inducted me into the Sisterhood when I turned sixteen,” I finally admitted. I knew this truth was not going to help my cause with Jessie, but no more lies. “I always hoped you were also a Sister of Capra, but I couldn’t ever say anything. I was bound to secrecy.”

“We don’t have secrets between us.”

“This was bigger than you and me.” Desperation weighed down every word, taunting me, testing me. I believed what I was saying, but if it was me sitting in Jessie’s chair, would I feel any less betrayed? “If word ever got out, even a rumor that the Sisters of Capra existed, there would have been a witch hunt. It’s happened before.”

Jessie said nothing. She just looked at me.

“Last night would never have been a possibility,” I continued. “Nothing would ever have changed.”

“Change isn’t always a good thing.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” She laughed, a hard, brittle laugh. “Yesterday I was happy. Harry and I were happy. We love each other. Maybe everything in Capra wasn’t perfect, but I knew what to expect. I was content.”

“You didn’t have a voice.” I frowned at her, seriously confused now. Had she really been content? “We were second-class citizens, forever children forced to submit to the will of our father or husband or some man.”

“Harry wasn’t like that,” Jessie stated plainly. “He treated me like an equal. I know it wasn’t perfect, I’ve never said it was, but today everything is a mess. Today all I have is hurt and anger and uncertainty. I don’t know what this Sisterhood will do to Harry. Will he be allowed to keep his job? Will we still be living in our home tomorrow? Will he be locked up just because he’s a man?”

“Of course not.” I didn’t feel half as confident as I sounded. Look at Daniel. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t broken any law. He was locked up just because he was an heir.

Jessie sat back in her chair, her gaze dropping.

I brought my mug to my mouth and sipped. The warm liquid slid down my throat. The caffeine hit my bloodstream. My skin still felt like ice.

I didn’t have absolute faith in the Sisterhood. Not anymore. I didn’t like the way they’d blindsided me last night. I hated how Roman had gotten caught up in my fight. I was worried about Daniel. Disappointment wallowed in the bottom of my stomach and anger brushed along every nerve ending in my body. Every breath felt like a suppressed scream.

But I wasn’t prepared to accept—or go back to—the regime we’d overthrown. For all their faults, the Sisterhood had to be better than the council.

A noise from behind pulled my head around. My gaze landed on Roman, emerging from the bedroom. He’d pulled on a fresh t-shirt over the sweatpants he’d slept in. He wasn’t limping, but the effort that cost showed in the careful, precise steps he took.

“Sorry,” I said. “Did we wake you?”

“It’s about time someone did.” His halfhearted attempt at a grin was lopsided. “It’s afternoon.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than I look.” He reached me and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “Hello, Jessie.”

I turned to see her wrangle a grim smile from her sour mood. That’s all the greeting he received, but her eyes softened as she took in his swollen jaw and black eye.

“There’s fresh coffee.” I made to stand, but Roman pressed me back down with a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll get it.” He walked around the counter. “Then I’ll get out of the way.”

“You’re not disturbing us.”

“I could do with the fresh air.” Roman poured himself a black coffee and crossed the room. “My head feels like it’s wading through sludge.”

That would be all the pain meds.

He went out onto the deck, closing the glass sliding door behind him.

Jessie’s gaze snapped to me. “What the hell happened to him?”

“He got caught up in last night,” I explained. “We were both taken by surprise at the Foundation Ball. After the screening first went out, the Guard came after me. Roman fought them off. At least, he tried…”

Jessie took her time with that. Then the cracks in her outrage finally started showing. “You seriously didn’t know beforehand?”

“I knew something was in the works, but I never imagined it would happen so soon, and I wasn’t expecting a full out revolution.”

The Sisterhood had thrown me to the wolves without a lifeline. They’d used me, taken everything from me without permission—my words, my truth—they’d been prepared to take my freedom and maybe even my life if things hadn’t gone quite according to their grand plan.

I didn’t say that to Jessie, though. There was a time when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d understand why I accepted it, why I’d allowed it, why I would still fight for the Sisterhood …but now I was no longer so sure.

Change isn’t always a good thing.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong, but this change flowed through my veins. I was the spark of this change. I was the flame. And while I did not approve of all of Geneva’s methods and decisions, I found I wasn’t ready to give up on the Sisterhood.

I was borrowing from Roman’s philosophy. The system is bigger than the individual.

I still fully believed in the cause, and I’d work within the system to right any wrongs I came across—starting with the incarceration of Daniel and the heirs.

Jessie and I drank our coffee in silence. The ice between us had thawed, but she hadn’t totally forgiven me.

I’m not sure she ever would, but I would keep trying. “If you or Harry have any trouble, you know you can come to me, right?”

“Do I?” Jessie shook her head slowly, side-to-side. “We were supposed to be best friends, Georga.”

“We are best friends.”

“How can we be, when it feels like I barely know you?”

“You know me.” The hurt was a physical pain in my chest. “The secrets I’ve had to keep don’t make me who I am.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She put her mug down and stood. “But it’s like you’ve had this second life and alternative personality all this time.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

She cocked her head, studying me. “There are many things we don’t get a choice in. This isn’t one of them. You chose this.”

“You honestly think it was a choice?” I said to her. “You and Harry are happy. You are the lucky ones. What about Carolyn? She’s married to a man she will never love, a man she feels nothing for. Do you remember that woman we tried to help a while back?”

Jessie’s face was blank.

She didn’t remember.

I did. “Her name was Beth. Her husband was cruel. He abused her physically, mentally and emotionally. He made her feel worthless, less than human because she’d miscarried their baby. He treated her worse than a wild animal.”

“That woman who was made to stand outside the Blue Fish in the cold while her husband was inside drinking?” Jessie said, finally remembering.

I nodded. “When she tried to get help, the Guard didn’t believe her word against her husband. She had no voice and no one to turn to for help. How many other women are in the same situation? You and I, we’re both the lucky ones.”

My voice developed a tremor, but I swallowed and hardened it to steel. “So don’t tell me I had a choice.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Jessie looked at me without anger or any sharp edges, but with a kind of hopelessness—a sadness. “I’ve been living in my little bubble, happy and content and safe. My small, little life, while you’ve been risking rehab and Heaven knows what else to charge ahead, making our world a better place.”

I pushed to my feet. “Jessie.”

“No.” She walked around the table. “You’re the better person here, Georga. When I look at you, that’s what I see. And it’s great. It really is. That doesn’t change the fact that when I look at you, I see this stranger, someone I don’t really know. I don’t see my best friend…because you never let me see her before.”

With that, Jessie walked out. I wanted to run after her. I wanted to beg and plead. I’d already lost Brenda. I couldn’t lose Jessie, too.

But I didn’t.

I sank back into my chair and sat there, blinking away tears.

Jessie was right.

And so was I.

I hadn’t had a choice. That’s how the Sisters of Capra operated, in secrecy, in a total blackout.

And if I had to do it all over?

That’s exactly what Roman had asked, when my truths had unknowingly been used to fuel the uprising. If you had known, would you have any regrets?

Today, I knew the answer. I had regrets, but I didn’t see how I would have done anything differently. Because maybe what we had in Capra wasn’t all evil, and maybe the Sisterhood isn’t all good, but there was no scenario in which I could keep standing and do nothing.

I pulled myself together when Roman came back inside.

He glanced around. “Did Jessie leave?”

I nodded as I stood and turned to him, clocking the bruised jaw, his swollen face, that cut on his lip, the careful movements… I would have done this differently, the part where Roman fought off half a dozen guards to protect me.

Roman stepped up to me, his knuckles grazing beneath my chin, his gaze searching. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” I didn’t understand. “You’re the one I’m worried about. And don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re not.”

“I will be,” he said. “Thank you for taking care of me during the night.”

“I didn’t do much,” I protested.

“Every time I opened my eyes, you were there.”

I swallowed. “Roman, are you mad at me?”

His hand fell away from my face. “Why would I be mad?”

Jessie was, and hadn’t I done much, much worse to Roman? “I’m a Sister of Capra. I joined before graduation, before I even met you. I’ve been working with them… for them, all this time. I’ve done…things. I’ve kept so many secrets in our marriage.”

He smirked, the gray in his eyes remaining warm. “I’m a warden, Georga. I was raised on the art of keeping secrets.”

He didn’t say it. Didn’t need to. Our marriage had been riddled with secrets on both sides from the start.

But here’s the difference between us: Roman had never used his secrets against me.

I’d used Roman’s position as a warden; I’d snuck outside the walls on the back of his truck. He’d taken me to The Smoke because he’d been concerned about what I might do on my own, and I’d handed everything I’d learned over to the Sisterhood.

I’d put him in theoretical danger more than once, and actual danger last night.

It hadn’t always been a cold, calculated move, but I had betrayed his trust in me, his concern for me, the very bond of our marriage. There was no getting away from that.

And then there was the big one, the one Roman didn’t know about.

“I slipped Julian a sedative and made a biometric copy of his handprint,” I told him. “That’s how they gained access to the armory. Without that, there wouldn’t have been a revolution.”

That was my first—and only—sanctioned mission for the Sisterhood. All the rest, I’d done on my own initiative.

I watched that admission settle over Roman.

Finally, he understood who I was, what I’d done.

Thanks to his friendship with Daniel and Julian, I’d been invited into the bosom of the Edgar family. Thanks to my husband, I’d had the opportunity to get close to the councilman. That’s why the Sisterhood had chosen me for that mission.

Roman took a step back. “What are you saying?”

I braced myself. “I’m not just a passive member of the Sisterhood. They were determined to use my position as your wife, my access to power, to their benefit and I wasn’t exactly opposed to it. They used me and I used you. I used our marriage.”

The warmth bled from Roman’s eyes as stone cold shutters came down. A mask slid over the tenderness in his expression until there was an invisible wall between us.

By now, I knew something about Roman’s masks. The careless indifference, the cool disdain, the cynical amusement. I also knew something about what lurked beneath, and not long ago, that might have soothed me.

Not today.

All those volatile emotions he was so good at masking beneath a layer of arrogant detachment were aimed at me.

“Roman.” My voice was scratchy. “Say something.”

His voice was even, a deep baritone without inflection. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I watched him turn his back on me and walk away, and I was helpless, at his mercy in where we went from here.

I’d known exactly what my damning confession would do to us. That’s not why I did it. I wasn’t trying to sabotage us. Sure, right now I felt like I didn’t deserve Roman, but that wasn’t why I did it.

I was just done.

I was done with the secrets and lies between us.