30. Lyssa

The high-rise,when we arrive, is just as Johnny de Luca’s sources described. I look up at the imposing structure, its dark windows like vacant eyes staring back at me. One of our men has just cut the power, and another is working on the alarm system.

We’re trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, because we don’t want the law involved. But something tells me they’ll hold off, even if they do get a call. This dark high-rise is the kind of building they tend to look away from, just as they look away from the Empire Grand hotel, and from Elysium, too.

No, I think they’re more likely to let us take each other out and then clean up the dregs. That’s their usual play. And I hope for their sake they follow the same playbook tonight.

Beside me, Hadria is a picture of cold determination, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. She gives a curt nod when the tech guy, tapping away on a laptop, calls over, “Systems down.”

“Go,” she orders Marco, and I watch as he and his chosen men start to heave the battering ram at the door, the sound of splintering wood and the shrieking metal of twisting locks filling the air.

The door is down in moments, and Hadria and I enter the building together, just the two of us. The first floor is empty, and I don’t just mean empty of people, but empty of everything. No furniture in the lobby. No computers. Nothing at all. The air is dusty, almost stale. I nod my head toward the fire stairs and Hadria follows my lead.

The stairwell is cold and empty as we begin our ascent. Grandmother stayed on the top floor of the building where I grew up, and I bet she’ll be on the top floor of this one, too, so it’ll be a long climb. The elevators are down, of course, and wouldn’t be strategically sensible anyway. My grip tightens on my gun, adrenaline starting to sing in my veins as the familiar feeling of battle comes over me.

But today I don’t have the sense of fun that I usually get.

No. This is going to be the opposite of fun.

We hit another turning of the stairs, the door to the right solidly announcing the sixth floor with a giant “6” painted on it. I try this door, like I’ve tried them all so far, but it’s locked, as they’ve all been. We pause, ears straining for any sound. It’s dead quiet still.

The building feels more like a tomb than a hideout. I glance at Hadria, who seems to share my wariness.

We go up another flight of stairs, steady and fast and noiseless. Another and another, until we hit the tenth floor, and this time?—

This time, the handle gives under my fingers. Open, I mouth at Hadria. And then I raise a questioning eyebrow. Do we take our chances, walk into this very obvious trap? Or do we keep making our way up the stairs, a bottleneck that could end up being just as dangerous for us?

There were no good options when we looked at breaking in here. We knew that from the start. It’s a matter of taking the least-bad route.

And then the rhythmic thud of boots on concrete reaches us, coming from far above. I tense, motioning for Hadria to move back behind me. There’s no way in hell I’m letting her put herself in the line of fire.

There are a lot of them, from the sounds of it. And then there’s an open door to my right with God-knows-what waiting behind it.

I turn to Hadria, my decision made. “Go back down,” I murmur. “I’ve got this.” Her eyes narrow, but I cut off her protest before she can make it. “Go back down, Hadria. I mean it. This is my mess to clean up.”

“We said we’d do this together.”

“And we will. You’ll wait down there to get Mrs. G the hell out of here when I bring her down. And then I’ll go back up and take care of Scarlett and Grandmother.” She doesn’t move. “Listen, I don’t want Suzy kicking my ass if you get hurt,” I try.

“I’m not going to get hurt,” she scoffs.

I’m done messing around. “Get out of here. That’s an order from your second, Boss, whether you want to hear it or not. You need to be somewhere safe in case?—”

In case I don’t make it back.

The unspoken words hang between us, and something close to vulnerability flickers across Hadria’s face.

“We don’t have time to argue about this,” I mutter. “And you know I’m right.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse again. But then her expression softens, just a fraction. She offers her arm, and I clasp it, two warriors wishing each other well on the battlefield. “You better come back alive, Wolf. That’s an order.”

“You know me, Hades. I always follow orders.”

And then she turns and heads back down while I take a minute to figure out my next move. I know exactly what’s coming down the stairs, so I guess I’ll take the mystery option—door number 10.

I step out cautiously, and find myself in what looks like a hotel or apartment block hallway with a score of doors leading into apartment units. I sweep through them rapidly yet thoroughly, senses on high alert for any ambush.

But there’s nothing—literally nothing. All these apartments are exactly the same: empty, completely unfurnished, and no signs of life, just layer upon layer of dust.

Only silence and emptiness surround me, pressing in as flashes from my childhood under Grandmother tear through my mind. While I didn’t grow up here, it’s still horribly familiar. All these rooms, barren of any comforts…

And that ever-present fear coiling in my gut…

I grit my teeth, my breaths coming short and sharp as memories batter at the edges of my consciousness. Not now. I can’t afford to get caught up in the past, not when Mrs. Graves’ life is at stake. Not when Scarlett?—

The thought of her, of the gutting betrayal and the confusing tangle of emotions she’s stirred up in me, hardens my resolve. I force myself to focus, breathing slow and steady until my body’s nervous system regulates itself once more.

Moving back through the corridors, I search for a way up, for the fastest route to the upper levels. But as I approach the elevators, a plan starting to form, I catch a movement in my periphery.

I whirl, gun raised, and find myself staring at?—

Me.

No. Not me. But the wolf mask is too familiar, hiding the upper part of the face. The lower part is free, and the woman wearing it smiles in mockery as I take a cautious step back.

The lethal grace in her stance reminds me of Scarlett, and for a split second, I think it is Scarlett, and some traitorous part of me jolts with…something. Relief? Anticipation?

It’s quickly extinguished as the woman launches herself at me.

This isn’t Scarlett, and disappointment makes me slower than I usually would be, slow enough that my shots are way off. I deflect her first few blows, falling into an instinctive defensive rhythm as I assess her skills. She’s good—really good—and I bet I know who she is.

Ducking beneath a high kick, I call out, “Ariadne, right? The one who killed Adam?”

If my words faze her, she doesn’t show it. We exchange a blistering series of attacks, her ferocity lending every strike a weight behind it.

But she lacks precision.

“I’ve killed scores of people,” she finally bites out, falling back a little to look me over. “You’ll have to clarify which one you mean.”

“Scarlett’s brother.”

For the first time, her movements hitch, just a fraction. “Yeah, that was me.” There’s a savage sort of pride in her admission, but it rings hollow. “Family is nothing but a useless diversion.”

“Is that what Grandmother told you?” I laugh. “She told me the same thing. And she’s wrong. Very fucking wrong.” I skip back, narrowly avoid her fist slamming into my jaw. “You’re pretty good,” I commend, ducking and weaving through the confined space of the hallway.

She is. But she’s not as good as me. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

“I’m the best,” she corrects me. “I should have been the one sent to eliminate you. Scarlett is weak.” Another flurry of attacks drives me back, but I give as good as I get, landing a solid hit to her ribs that seems to surprise her. She shakes it off fast, though. “But I’ll kill you now and take pleasure in it,” she pants out.

“If Scarlett’s so weak, why did Grandmother send her instead of you in the first place?”

The barb hits its mark—Ariadne doesn’t answer, her focus wavering as her anger takes over, and she charges head-on at me.

I let her slam me back into the wall, then jam a hard elbow right into her spine, making her drop me and stagger away. I land a series of sledgehammer strikes that have her reeling back, drawing me further down the hallway.

Ah. She’s just stalling me.

I chuckle as we both regroup. “So you’re here to slow me down, huh?”

Her response is a wordless cry of rage, the fury of her attacks intensifying yet again as she drives me back.

Okay, message received. But now I’m getting impatient. The clock is ticking, and I need to get to Mrs. Graves, then to Grandmother.

And to Scarlett.

I quit holding back and take the opportunity when one of her kicks goes wide, launch into an offensive, blow after calculated blow.

Ariadne falters, stumbling back as I hammer through her defenses. She gives a frustrated growl as she realizes she’s losing ground.

And then she rips something from her belt and hurls it toward me. Thick, choking smoke billows out, engulfing the hallway in an impenetrable gray haze. I cough, backing up fast, the acrid fumes stinging my eyes as I try to track Ariadne’s movements. I hear the unmistakable sound of the fire stairs door slamming shut.

Cursing liberally, I fan the air in a bid to disperse the smoke. Classic Scarlett move—just like the bullshit she pulled during our very first fight.

Scarlett. The thought of her sends a pang through my chest. The rage, the determination I saw in Ariadne…it’s so similar to Scarlett, and just like Scarlett’s first few attacks on me, it felt…

Personal.

But I can’t dwell on that now. I have to keep moving.

I should’ve expected that trick with the smoke bomb. I need to be way fucking smarter about this.

I take a deep breath, cover my eyes with my arm, and run through the smoke with the other hand on the wall to guide me, heading for the elevators again.

The smoke is dispersing now, and the elevators are pretty clear. With a little effort, I manage to force the doors apart and stare down into the shaft, then up into a deep, consuming darkness.

The elevator is above me, because when I turn on the flashlight at my shoulder and lean out into space, I can juuust make out the bottom of the shaft below, and there’s no elevator there.

If the elevator starts coming down while I’m climbing up…

Well. No point thinking about that until or unless it happens. The electricity is off, at any rate, so the odds are decent.

Squaring my shoulders, I grab onto the maintenance ladder and begin to climb, hauling myself upward. Here and there, the ladder cuts out or switches sides, and I have to use the scaffolding of the shaft itself to continue upward. The metal bites into my hands, the strain burning in my muscles—but I don’t let up.

Up above, Mrs. Graves is waiting for me. She’ll know I’m coming, for sure. I’m not going to let her down.

Grandmother is up there, too.

And so is Scarlett.

That thought, in particular, is the one that gets me climbing faster and faster.