13. Lyssa

Finally,Johnny de Luca has made himself useful. Though I suspect the hold-up on the intel I requested was probably not just the difficulty of finding it, but making sure that the Bianchi Boss was also happy for me to receive it. I meet him at his favorite diner, the bell above the door announcing my arrival.

Johnny the Gentleman is already seated at his usual booth, a slice of pie in front of him. He looks up, his eyes crinkling in a smile, and stands with a polite little bow as I join him, living up to his nickname.

"Lyssa. How lovely to see you. I was just about to dig into this delectable cherry pie. Care to join me in a slice?"

I slide into the booth, shaking my head. "I'm not here for pie. I'm here for business."

He chuckles, raising a finger. "Why not both?" Within moments, a waitress appears, setting down a slice of pie in front of me. The aroma of warm cherries and buttery crust wafts up, making my mouth water despite myself.

"Humor an old man, will you? Trust me, this pie is worth the indulgence."

I take a bite, the tart sweetness of the cherries bursting on my tongue. "Alright. The pie's delicious. I'll give you that."

"Isn't it? It's why I bought this place."

I glance around instinctively. He bought this place? So that's why he's always here—and why it's always open when he needs it to be. "Congratulations on your new career in the food service industry," I say drily. "But let's get down to why I'm really here."

Johnny leans back, his expression turning serious at last. "Of course. I've got that information you requested about an unregistered helicopter flight. My contacts have been digging, and they've narrowed it down to a specific neighborhood—your bird came to roost in an old industrial complex. Looks like this Grandmother of yours might using it as her base of operations."

"She's not my Grandmother," I tell him shortly. "That's just her—" I break off, scanning the map that he's slid over to me.

"Paper only," he says. "I prefer not to deal in traceable electronics where possible."

I nod. "This gives me a place to look. Thanks." I hesitate for a moment, but then I follow my gut. "Listen, there's something I need to show you."

I pull out the list Scarlett wrote out from the shredded documents. I smooth it out on the table, turning it so Johnny can read the names.

"I think Grandmother is planning something big. Either a mass hit or she's got assassins in place watching each of these people. Hadria's name is on here, and so is Juno Bianchi's."

Johnny's brow furrows as he scans the list, his finger stopping on Juno's name. "This is troubling. And I won't allow Juno to come to Chicago until Grandmother is dealt with. It's too risky."

"I agree. But the problem isn't just Chicago, Johnny. Grandmother seems to have a wider reach than I realized."

Johnny sits back, his eyes meeting mine. "You're right. This goes beyond just Chicago. I'll put out some feelers, see what I can dig up. Do you need help with this Grandmother? I know Juno would be happy?—"

"No," I say quickly. "It's in hand. The Syndicate is all the help I need."

Only if things get really bleak, of course. I can't risk anyone knowing about Scarlett.

Scarlett…

I have a flash of our activities, just a few hours ago, and I hope like hell Johnny doesn't have a well-developed sense of smell, because I can still smell her on me.

All over me.

And I want to go back to her right now, as I leave Johnny de Luca to enjoy his pie and his diner. But I can't. I'm just about ready to drop from exhaustion, and tomorrow I need to make time to train the recruits, and get together a plan to infiltrate this industrial complex. I don't have the bandwidth to drive back to that damn farm tonight, no matter how much my heart is begging for me to go.

No. For now, I need to get back to Hadria and show her this list, too, before Johnny starts spreading it around.

When I get back to Elysium, I head up to the war room. It's still pretty empty but the familiar scents are still there: leather, wood, and something I've come to associate with determination. Hadria lounges regally in her "throne," and looks almost annoyed as I approach.

"I was in the middle of something when I got your message," she says. She means in the middle of Suzy Sunshine, I'm betting. "So this better be good."

"It is," I say, and slap down the list of names in front of her. "I found this at Grandmother's house. Went back to have another look, and this is what I got—a list of names that could be potential targets."

Hadria is already scanning the paper with interest.

"Listen," I say, as she gets to the end and stares thoughtfully into space. "I just came from Johnny de Luca at the diner. I showed him the list, too, since the Bianchi Boss was on it."

Another flash of annoyance crosses Hadria's features. "You showed this to someone else before bringing it to me?"

"It was the right call, Hades. Grandmother is a threat to all of us. We need every advantage we can get, and I just happened to be seeing Johnny tonight right after I…found this."

It's only a little fudging of the truth, but for a moment, I'm not sure she'll buy it. But at last, she concedes, "You're right. But next time, bring it to me first."

"I hear you, Boss." Loud and clear.

Hadria likes being in charge. I like her being in charge. If Johnny hadn't buzzed me in the middle of—well, in the middle of Scarlett—I would have gone to Hadria first.

She leans back in her chair, her fingers drumming on the armrest. "This changes things. We need to move more quickly. You need to take charge of a team, Lyssa. I know you like working alone, but the wedding is getting too close for comfort."

The last thing I need is people dogging my footsteps. More people means more chances for Scarlett to be exposed. "I appreciate that, but it's not time for a full-out assault yet," I counter, thinking fast. "I plan to case the industrial complex tomorrow night, and then I'll get together a plan for infiltration. That's when I'll need the team."

"You're being unusually cautious. Usually you're the one urging me to act."

I force a wry smile. "Maybe your influence is rubbing off on me. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Fair enough. But don't keep me in the dark, Wolf. We're in this together, remember."

I nod, the guilt gnawing at my insides. "Always, Hades."

As I turn to leave, Hadria's voice stops me. "Oh, and Lyssa? Aurora's finished your room."

"My—room?"

"The interior design. And by the way, she's still waiting on those details for the wedding, clothes and a date. Don't make me sic her on you."

I roll my eyes, grateful for the change of subject. "Tell Suzy I'll wear whatever she picks out. And no plus-one."

Hadria's laughter follows me out of the room, but it does little to ease the weight of my deception. Then I get up to my rooms and I feel even worse, if that's possible. Crossing the threshold, I blink slowly as I take in the changes Suzy has clearly been hard at work crafting. Dark velvet drapes frame the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Elysium grounds, while in the bedroom, grey and cream satin sheets beckon me to come and lie down on the massive sleigh bed. In the living room, shelving units line one whole wall to house my extensive collection of antique weaponry.

It's all…perfect. Exactly the sort of aesthetic I might pick for myself if I ever gave a fuck.

It's a true sanctuary. Aurora has outdone herself.

I stand there, frozen in guilty wonder for long moments before shaking myself from my reverie. Mr. Fluffikins still sits on the bed's multitude of pillows, and with my eyes on him, I sink into one of the cozy armchairs bracketing the fireplace.

Suzy did this for me.

And I'm keeping alive the woman who killed her friends.

The next night, I'm impatient, in a hurry to get back to Scarlett, to formulate our next move before Hadria's patience runs out.

The ride to the abandoned farm seems to take forever, my thoughts a tangled mess of loyalty, duty, and desire.

I kill the engine as I pull up in front of the barn, taking a moment to collect myself. What am I doing? This thing with Scarlett…it's dangerous. It's unfair to her.

I need to quit it. Quit her.

But as I push open the barn door and see her, all my resolve crumbles as soon as Scarlett's face lights up with a genuine smile. "Hi!"

Before I can think better of it, I'm making a beeline for her, pulled by an invisible force I can't resist. I take her in my arms, my voice husky as I ask, "Is this…okay?" Scarlett's answer is a nod, her eyes darkening with desire. I lean in, take her lips in a deep kiss that threatens to consume us both.

I'm in trouble.

But I have no idea what to do about it.

I pull away and let her know about the industrial complex where Grandmother might be hiding out now. Scarlett is agreeable to a recon exercise, so—despite the fact that I'd rather ride that sweet mouth of hers again—I put business ahead of pleasure and we head out to take a look.

The soft, occasional crunch of gravel underfoot is the only sound as Scarlett and I slink through shadows toward what is very carefully made to look like an abandoned warehouse complex on the outskirts of Chicago. A rusted chain-link fence surrounds the perimeter, a story of neglect told in the peeling paint and overgrown weeds.

But I'm not fooled. I catch the telltale glint of high-tech security cameras mounted at strategic locations, surveilling every angle of approach.

Grandmother might be on the run, but she's not sloppy.

And neither are we. We've been able to keep out of their view up until now, I'm pretty sure. I signal Scarlett, and we're about to split up to covertly case the area when everything goes south.

Fast.

I sense something rather than see it, and whirl around just as a figure rockets out of the dark towards me.

A knife cleaves through the space where my face was an instant before. I duck and spin, landing a solid kick to my attacker's midsection. They double over with a guttural grunt of pain, staggering back a few paces.

"Mine!" Scarlett hisses, and I back up as I more clearly take in the threat before me.

Take in the snarling wolf mask obscuring half their face.

Ariadne.

Scarlett steps up beside me, practically quivering with energy. "This kill is mine." She's earned it, too.

I step back, giving a mock bow to the two of them. "Ladies. I'll leave you to it."

Ariadne lets out a scornful bark of laughter. "I've been waiting for this day, little girl," she singsongs at Scarlett. "I'm going to gut you in front of your girlfriend."

I open my mouth to protest about the G-word.

And then I shut it again.

Scarlett's already responded by slipping into her defensive fighting stance, hands raised, body taut. Good girl. She's going to see what Ariadne has, draw her out before attacking herself.

She smiles at her opponent. "Then bring it on…bitch."

With a scream, Ariadne launches herself at Scarlett. And something in me wants to step in and take the blow, but I hang back as Scarlett demanded and I watch the perimeter for any other assassins who might decide Ariadne could use some backup.

This is Scarlett's fight, her chance to settle the score once and for all. And I can see every shred of technique and ferocity I've drilled into her put to the test right here. Pride tightens my chest as I watch Scarlett decide she's seen enough, and begins to attack instead of defend, pushing back at Ariadne's onslaught. She's holding her own, matching the other woman strike for strike until Ariadne realizes she won't win that way.

They break apart and slowly circle each other. Scarlett's eyes remain locked on her prey and I see what she's become under my training.

A wolf. A wolf like me.

She's cool under pressure, tactical but daring, and there's no hint of the rage that takes over sometimes, the anger that makes her careless.

She's going to win. She's going to have her vengeance. And I couldn't be happier for her.

Ariadne tries a roundhouse kick that Scarlett deflects with a precisely timed block that sends her enemy stumbling away. Scarlett slashes out with her knife, trying for the throat, but Ariadne manages to throw herself just out of reach. The knife catches on her mask instead, tearing it free, so that it falls to the ground and leaves her face exposed.

And the blood in my veins turns cold as I stare into those wild, unhinged eyes. Because there, stripped of her disguise, is a face that is strangely, painfully familiar.

"Scarlett, stop!"

But Scarlett doesn't so much as spare me a glance, too eager for victory. With a smile of pure savagery, she presses her attack, raining down a flurry of strikes that drive the reeling Ariadne back step by step.

"Stop!" I roar again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she snarls back.

"Please, just wait a?—"

"If you want me to stop, you'll have to stop me yourself!"

I should have pieced it together when we saw Ariadne's bedroom. But I didn't. And now I have to step in—risk Scarlett hating me—stop her before she does something terrible.

Even more terrible.

I launch myself into the fray, ducking a wild swing from Ariadne and making Scarlett spin to avoid impacting me with the knife thrust she just made. I kick Ariadne hard in the middle and she slams back against the chain-link fence, dropping to the ground. She's still conscious, but staggers when she tries to get to her feet, and I figure she'll be out of action for at least ten more seconds—ten seconds that I can use to talk down Scarlett.

Scarlett still has her knife in her hand and is fixing me with a cold stare. "Let me finish this," she warns me, "or I'll finish you, too, Wolf."

I hold up my hands in the universal sign for calm the fuck down. The problem is, she is calm. Dead calm. "You can't kill her."

"Just watch me!"

"Listen," I hiss, and something in my manner finally gets through her absolute focus. "I know this girl. This—woman."

"So?"

"It's Sarah," I tell her. "Sarah Graves. Mrs. Graves' daughter."

Sarah Graves, who has supposedly been dead for over a decade.