31. Scarlett

The few piecesof furniture in this apartment are functional rather than comfortable, but at least they’re solid. I shove the heavy sofa in front of the suite door, the only way to keep the door barred since Grandmother refuses to allow her trainees even the basic privacy of locked doors. The room feels claustrophobic even though it’s practically empty, the dim light from the single bulb making my eyes hurt.

As I listen to the distant sounds of feet stamping, of shouts, of the occasional slamming doors somewhere below, I feel torn.

I need protect Mrs. Graves.

But I have a desperate urge to get to my parents, too.

Mrs. Graves seems to sense my inner turmoil. “Scarlett, I really do think you should go.” It’s about the fourth time she’s said it, now. “Free your parents. I’ll be alright here,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

Mrs. Graves smiles sadly. “Sometimes, we have to make difficult choices to protect the ones we love.”

“You promised me you’d tell?—”

Before I can get any further, I hear quick, soft footsteps outside in the corridor, the sound of doors opening and closing growing louder. I hiss at Mrs. Graves, “Get in the bathroom and shove whatever you can up against the door. Now.”

She hesitates for a moment, but the urgency in my voice propels her into action. She hurries into the bathroom just as the suite door opens and bangs into my sofa barricade.

I back up, my gun steady in my hands, ready to defend Mrs. Graves and myself against whoever is trying to force their way in.

God, I hope it’s not Ariadne.

Because if I go up against her, the rage that seems to have died down in me for now might rise up again, demanding blood for blood. Demanding vengeance. And Lyssa was right—that rage doesn’t serve me. Doesn’t make me a better fighter. It sends me out of control, that’s all.

I need to keep a cool head, and?—

The door shudders as the person on the other side shoves harder, the sofa scraping against the floor. I brace myself as, with a final heave, the door swings open.

It’s not Ariadne.

It’s Lyssa who stands in the doorway, her blonde hair disheveled and her brown eyes hard. There’s dirt all over her, a black smear across her cheek. When she looks at me, there’s death in her eyes.

The Wolf.

And I’ve never been happier to see her.

A strange relief floods through me. Despite everything that’s happened between us, my lies and betrayal, all the terrible things I’ve done that I now regret—I’m still drawn to her.

I lower the gun. “Lyssa, I?—”

She lunges at me, striking hard and fast. I barely have time to defend myself, stumbling backward as I try to block her blows. “Lyssa, wait!” I gasp, my voice tinged with desperation. “Please, Mrs. Graves is?—”

Lyssa doesn’t listen, her attacks cold, brutal, effective. It’s all I have in me to dodge her blows. She pauses only when I vault away and yell, desperately, “Listen to me!”

“I’m done listening,” she tells me. “You took her. How could you?—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I shout, my own anger rising. “Grandmother has my parents!”

Lyssa falters for a moment, something like understanding in her face—but then her expression hardens again, and I brace for another attack. But before she can launch at me, Mrs. Graves runs from the bathroom, her voice ringing out, “Lyssa, stop! Please, stop!”

Lyssa freezes, her chest heaving as she turns to Mrs. Graves. “Mrs. G? What the—are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

Mrs. Graves shakes her head, her expression gentle but firm. “No, I’m fine. But Scarlett’s parents…they’re in danger. Lyssa, listen to me. She chose to protect me over her own flesh and blood.”

Lyssa’s gaze snaps back to me, confusion and suspicion warring in her eyes. I take a deep breath, my voice steady as I declare, “It’s true. And I’ll help you and Mrs. Graves escape. But…then I need to come back for my parents.”

“Or I kill you here and now, like I should have long ago,” Lyssa counters.

“No,” Mrs. Graves says sharply, and Lyssa turns to her in disbelief.

“Do you have any idea what she’s done?” she demands. “She’s a killer, Mrs. G. If you knew?—”

“I do know. Just as I know you, Lyssa. Please, let the girl save her parents. We can go now and bring them down with us?—”

“Absolutely not. You are my priority—and Hadria’s, for that matter. I have my orders,” Lyssa goes on sharply, as Mrs. Graves tries again to argue. “I find you, bring you down. Then I come back and…” She looks at me. “Clean up.”

“She protected me from this—this Grandmother,” Mrs. Graves says. “Lyssa, we can trust her. And don’t you think, if we have her parents with us, she’ll fight hard for their lives as well as mine?”

Lyssa stares at me. “But she…” She trails off.

Mrs. Graves interjects, her voice filled with quiet authority. “Lyssa, enough. We need to trust her—for now, at least. We get her parents, and then we head down.”

Lyssa sighs, re-tightening her ponytail with a frustrated expression. That little gesture, so familiar, makes my heart hurt.

“Please,” I say again. “My parents are innocents. Doesn’t the Syndicate have rules about that?”

For a moment, I think I should have kept my mouth shut. But at last, Lyssa snaps, “Fine. But again, my priority is getting Mrs. G out of here safely. You understand?”

“I do,” I say quickly. “My parents are on the floor just above us, behind Grandmother’s bedroom. She has a…a special room there…”

“I’ll bet she does. Don’t suppose the old lady will conveniently be there, too? Two birds, one stone?”

I shake my head, uncertain. “Maybe?”

“Well, we’ll deal with…everything else later. Come on.”

I’m already moving towards the door. “Did you—did you see Ariadne out there?”

Lyssa tilts her head to one side. “Still want your vengeance, Scarlett?” she asks, in a tone I don’t like. I say nothing, and she goes on, “I did—but way down below. She was trying to slow me down.”

“Did you kill her?”

I’m looking out the cracked-open door, but I turn back in time to catch the small face Lyssa makes. “She pulled that damn smoke bomb trick,” she admits.

I stare at her for a second. “Well, you should’ve seen that one coming.”

“Yeah, I should,” she agrees stiffly. “There are a whole lotta things I should’ve seen coming. And next time, I fucking will.”

I look down, unable to keep her gaze.

“Now let’s move,” she says. But then she leans in and drops her voice so that Mrs. Graves can’t hear what she says next. “And Scarlett? If you make any move I don’t like, I’ll open your throat. Understand?”

I give a small nod, and motion Mrs. Graves forward.

We head out into the deserted hallway: me first, then Lyssa, then Mrs. Graves. As we pass the open elevator doors, I glance over my shoulder at Lyssa, who shrugs in confirmation.

“It’s another option if we need it,” she murmurs.

“It most certainly is not,” Mrs. Graves says stoutly.

I smother a smile, surprised I can find humor in the moment. But it’s all a part of the confusing tangle of emotions I feel towards Lyssa.

I know she wants me dead. But I still feel a glimmer of hope, even as I accept that not both of us will leave this high-rise alive. I just want a chance to prove to her that I’m not a monster. That I could have chosen better. That we could have been…

We could have been good together.

We’re at the fire door now that leads into the enclosed stairwell. “Ready?”

“I’m always ready,” Lyssa says coolly. “Mrs. G, you stay the fuck behind me.”

“You don’t need to swear at me, Lyssa,” she says primly. “I have no plans to do anything else.”

I don’t miss the quick quirk of Lyssa’s mouth before she gives me the nod. “Go,” she says.

I push open the door and head in. From way down below, we can hear shouts and boots on stairs. But they have a long, long way to get up this far. “We have time,” I say.

“Move,” is all Lyssa says, propelling me upward with a hand in the small of my back.

I head up the stairwell to the penthouse level, where we find the door open. “One good thing, at least,” Lyssa mutters, and then points at the next flight of stairs that continues on up to the roof. “What’s up there?”

“Helipad,” I say, and Lyssa and I exchange a look. “Grandmother will be up there. And…probably some of the other trainees, too. Like Ariadne.”

I don’t like the way Lyssa is looking at me—something like contempt in her eyes. “Then make your choice,” she says, her lip twisting. “Your parents? Or vengeance?”

The question doesn’t even warrant consideration. “My parents,” I respond immediately.

Nodding, Lyssa pushes open the door and leads us into the open penthouse suite. I point out the door at the back of the sitting room—the entrance to Grandmother’s private chambers, beyond which lies the torture room.

Together, Lyssa and I sweep the room, checking for hidden enemies. But it’s empty.

My breath hitches as we approach the bedroom, dread and hope warring within me. There are no guards.

No Grandmother.

Lyssa pauses, ever cautious, but I can’t contain myself a moment longer. I rush forward, bursting through the wardrobe to the room beyond.

There, still bound to chairs with ropes biting into their skin, are my parents. They don’t move at the noise of me bursting in, and I freeze in dread. “Mom? Dad?” I choke out.

For a moment, there’s nothing. And then they both lift their heads a little, a little more, eyes widening as they see me.

They’re alive.

Oh, thank God.

Tears blur my vision as I drink in their appearance, frozen for another heartbeat before racing to them. With trembling hands, I slice through the rough bindings.

“Scarlett,” my father rasps. “What on earth?—”

“There’s no time to explain. We have to go, now!”

They nod dumbly, too stunned and weakened to protest as I help them to their feet. Shooting a grateful look at Lyssa, we head in a train back to the stairwell.

“My name is Lyssa. And all of you,” Lyssa commands, looking around our little group, “you stay behind me, and behind Scarlett. Heads down. If anyone is coming down the stairs behind us, you shout ‘Alert!’ and then duck. Any questions?”

“But Scarlett—what’s going on?” my mother asks, her voice quavering. “Where have you been?”

“We don’t have time for small talk,” Lyssa says, but she’s gentler than I expected, and I’m grateful for that.

Grateful for Lyssa.

“When it’s over, Mom,” I murmur. “I’ll—I’ll explain everything then.” Mom nods, but she can’t stop herself from pulling me into a hard hug, which Dad joins in as well.

“We missed you so much,” he tells me softly. “Oh, Scarlett?—”

“Please,” I say desperately, trying to hold it together. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” They finally let me go, standing back with Mrs. Graves.

Lyssa motions me over. “I’ll go first, Scar,” she says in a low voice, and doesn’t seem to notice she’s used the nickname she gave me. “And we’ll do this together.”

“Like the Sokolovs,” I say for some reason.

She gives me a long look. “Like the Sokolovs,” she agrees. “Keep it tight. Watch my back, and I’ll watch yours. Ready?”

I give her the same response she gave me when I asked a few minutes before. “I’m always ready.”

She gives a nod of approval that makes my heart flip over, and we head into the stairwell once more.