5. Lyssa

I’ve slept mostof the next day away, as is customary for Syndicate members. Aurora might have gotten Hadria to face a few extra daylight hours these days, but I already saw dawn—and anyway, most of my work happens at night. So late in the afternoon, after breakfast, I make my way through the hallways of the Empire Grand, the Bianchi Family hotel the Syndicate has been using as a temporary headquarters while Elysium undergoes renovations. Hadria’s suite is down the hall from mine, and she wants an update on this business of the assassin. Usually we avoid talking business in this hotel—none of us are foolish enough to think every word we say isn’t getting back to the Bianchi Boss’s ears—but the fact that someone is picking off Syndicate members isn’t exactly news.

Juno Bianchi might be a little gun-shy about the situation in Chicago, but she can hardly expect us to overlook an assassin targeting our people.

When Aurora lets me into the suite, I greet her with an up-nod and a “Hi, Suzy,” mostly to annoy Hadria with the nickname I gave her fiancée. Hadria scowls at me from where she’s standing near the large table in the middle of the room. It’s covered in papers, photos, and lists of names. My pulse picks up. Finally, some action.

But as I get closer, my excitement deflates. These aren’t Syndicate plans.

They’re fucking wedding prep.

I catch Hadria’s eye and roll mine, but she doesn’t seem to notice, her attention—as always—on Aurora, who has returned to pore over a thick binder of fabric swatches, her sunshine-bright smile beaming.

And Hadria smiles back.

Yeah. Despite the death threats and power struggles that come with leading the Styx Syndicate, the ruthless Hades just can’t seem to shake that lovestruck glow. It’d be sickening if I wasn’t secretly happy for her.

I stand there and watch them for a moment, content to stay well outside their bubble. They have something I’ve never had, never wanted. Love is a weakness, a distraction, and the way Hadria has changed since Aurora only proves my point.

She has something to lose, now. She has something that enemies can use for leverage.

That’s why I prefer my encounters quick and dirty, like with?—

“Lyssa,” Hadria’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I want you to be my best woman.”

I stare at her, blindsided. “Me? What about Mrs. Graves?”

“She’s Matron of Honor,” Hadria says. “For both of us.”

Aurora beams again, but her smile dims as her eyes drop to my arm. She gives a small gasp. “Lyssa! What happened?” She comes over to look more closely at me, brow furrowed in concern as she reaches for my arm.

Instinctively, I pull back. Damn, I’d forgotten about that gash from last night’s tussle. I’d pulled on last night’s leather pants and a fresh tank top when I woke up, but I didn’t bother to cover up the bandage. “Just a scratch. No big deal, Suzy, and keep your hands to yourself.”

Aurora sighs the way Mrs. Graves sighs at me sometimes, as though I’m being obstinate just for the sake of it. But it’s not exactly a life-threatening wound, for God’s sake. Still…the dull throb in my arm that I’ve been ignoring pulses with increasing intensity. That shouldn’t be happening after a minor knife slash. Maybe I should’ve taken that shot of antibiotics from Scarlett after all.

Scarlett.

Damn it.

I’ve been very determinedly keeping her out of my mind since I woke up, and here she is, worming her way back in…

Hadria’s eyes narrow as she takes in the bandage now as well. “What did you get yourself into?”

With a slight shake of my head, I change the subject. “Forget about me. We’ve got bigger problems than a couple of stitches.” I nod at the wedding paraphernalia. “Can you spare a second for business, or—?” I don’t bother keeping the snark out of my voice.

Hadria tosses aside the seating chart with a sigh and motions for Aurora to come closer for a kiss. “Go order some coffee and pastries for Mrs. Graves, will you, Sunshine? She’ll be here soon.” She glances at me and explains, “She’s helping out a lot with the wedding, but I also plan to have a very serious talk with her about protection. Did you know she keeps ditching her bodyguards?”

“I did know, and I’ve had words with her myself about that. She won’t listen to me, though. Hope she will to you—or maybe you, Suzy. You can talk anyone into anything, right?”

Aurora just grins. “I’ll do my best,” she promises, already halfway out the door. “See you both later.”

As soon as we’re alone, Hadria’s entire demeanor shifts. The warmth evaporates from her expression, leaving the cold, calculated mask of the stone-cold crime queen I know and love

“So?” she prompts. “The assassin?”

“I followed up at that dive bar last night, where Yuri got hit, but I got…sidetracked.” I pause, shoving away the memory of Scarlett once more and focus on the point. “I got jumped in street.”

Hadria’s sculpted brows arches dramatically. “By the assassin?”

“No, a bunch of Sokolovs looking to even the score.”

“Did you call in cleaners?” she asks, those brows pulling together now. “I didn’t hear?—”

“I left them alive. Had a witness with me. A girl from the bar…” The words are out before I can stop them.

But if the Boss is bothered by my indiscretion, she doesn’t show it. “I’ve told you, Lyssa, I’ve told all of you?—”

“I’m not destabilizing Chicago, for fuck’s sake,” I sigh in exasperation. It’s been Hadria’s refrain ever since Juno Bianchi RSPV’d as a maybe to her wedding. Her consigliere, Johnny de Luca, who’s back and forth between Chicago and New York these days, told us the Bianchi Boss will come so long as Chicago is stable. Hadria really, really wants her there in the church when she gets married.

Public endorsement, she calls it.

“I trust you took care of the situation?” she asks me.

My chin lifts a notch. “Of course.”

“And this…witness? Was she hurt?”

I shrug. “A little shaken up, but she proved tougher than she looked.” My mind unhelpfully supplies an echo of Scarlett’s soft breasts in my hands, the taste of her on my tongue as she came for me. “She’s the one who sewed me up. Back at her place.” Shut up, Wolf. I’ve already said too much, and if I start babbling, it’ll only raise questions.

But understanding flickers in Hadria’s eyes. “I see. Well, as entertaining as your exploits sound, I need you back on mission.” She takes a seat at the head of the table, the leather chair creaking softly beneath her as she folds her hands over flower arrangement brochures. “Every day this assassin roams free, more members of the Syndicate are at risk. Not to mention Juno Bianchi’s getting antsy. She agreed to a partnership only because things were stabilizing here in Chicago, and if she pulls out?—”

“She won’t pull out.”

“Seriously, Lyssa—I need you to put all your efforts into neutralizing this threat.”

My jaw tightens. Seriously, Lyssa. Does she think I’m fucking around?

Okay, well, maybe a little. It’s been two weeks since Yuri was killed, and I really should’ve tracked down that Sokolov-territory bar long before last night. I could blame all the fuss about the wedding of the fucking century taking up time—the happy couple have held more than one engagement party here at the Empire Grand—but it would just be an excuse.

And getting distracted by a pretty face when I was there for intel last night was a rookie move—one that could prove fatal with a killer on the loose.

“I get it,” I tell Hadria. “And I’m on it.”

“Good.” Hadria sinks back in the seat and—for a moment—she looks tired. “You know I wouldn’t be sending you if it wasn’t important. This assassin is…disturbing. No one’s claimed responsibility, and that worries me. If anything, I would have expected them to be shouting it from the rooftops, how they’re taking on the Syndicate and whittling our numbers down. Even Nero was quick to take the credit when it wasn’t even him.”

Her brother, Nero, was exactly the type to do that—take credit without putting in the work. I will never not be happy when I think about him dying at Hadria’s hands, even if his invasion of Elysium meant we had to pull the whole place down and start again.

I miss Elysium.

“So I need my best on this,” Hadria is going on. “And that’s you.”

The unasked-for praise still sends a swell of pride through me. We have a long history together, and I know nothing could ever come between us. But it’s still nice to hear her acknowledge our bond, especially given all the time she’s spending with Aurora lately. I get it, and I don’t grudge them for it, but I can’t deny I’ve felt a little…

Well. Lonely.

“You don’t need to worry,” I assure her. “I’ll take care of it. You get on and plan your fairytale wedding. God knows I can’t wait to see you in a big puffy dress, Hades.”

“Fuck you,” she says, but she can’t hide the smirk as, with a subtle tilt of her chin, she dismisses me.

Laughing, I exit the suite, but I’ve only made it a few paces down the hall when I nearly collide with Mrs. Graves. The older woman lets out a soft tsk as she steadies me with a firm hand.

“Easy, dear.” Her warm eyes crinkle with fond exasperation as she gives me a once-over. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry, Mrs. G.” The old nickname slips out automatically. “I was just going to give this another look.” I nod down at my injured arm.

Mrs. Graves’ expression pinches with concern as she takes my hand, bringing my arm out to get a look at it. “Oh, Lyssa…this doesn’t look good at all.” She starts to guide me back down the hallway. “Come along now, let’s get you patched up properly in my room.”

“Nah,” I say, tugging my arm back. “I have work to do.” The stern look she gives me almost makes me waver. “Look, I need to track down this asshole who’s picking us off, and Hadria and Suzy want to see you—right?” She gives a glance down the hallway, and I lay on the final sweetener. “If the arm’s still feeling bad when I get back later, I’ll come to your room and let you poke at it. Deal?”

Mrs. Graves is the closest thing to a mother that I’ve known. She took a teenaged Hadria and me in off the streets after we tracked down her daughter’s killer and gave out the gift of justice. She and Hadria have both seen me at my worst and still stood by me, becoming the only real family I’ve ever known.

So when she makes me promise to come see her if it’s not feeling better, I do promise—and I mean it.

I get back to my room finally, and peel off the waterproof bandage myself, even though Scarlett told me not to. Shit. It’s red and inflamed, and when I poke at it, I hiss through my teeth at the sudden shot of pain.

Did those fuckers deliberately load up their blades with tetanus or something? Or maybe I should’ve listened to Scarlett and let her give me that antibiotic shot.

Scarlett. Again I’m thinking of Scarlett. Damn it, what is it about her? Something about her haunted eyes and strange fragility-over-strength has burrowed into my brain in a way no one-night stand ever has before.

It’s not just the sex, though that sure was memorable. No. It’s something else, some weird sense of…

I’m not superstitious, but I’d almost call it a sense of foreboding.

Of fate.

I shake my head, annoyed at my inability to put the girl out of my mind. I have to focus on my mission: Taking down this assassin targeting my fellow Styxies before anyone else gets hurt.

An assassin who’s making me look like a fucking amateur in front of Hadria.

I clench my fists, ignoring the answering throb in my arm. No more distractions. No more wild goose chases.

It’s time for this Wolf to go hunting.