17. Lyssa

"She was trafficked."

I let Mrs. Graves' words really sink in, and from the way no one else says anything, I'm guessing they all feel like I do. Like this is going to be something we'd rather not hear.

But it's important that we do.

I'm not loving the way we're all standing around staring at Sarah Graves—Ariadne—where she's still sitting in the armchair, but I can hardly suggest we pull up some chairs, sing a kumbaya.

"Trafficked," Hadria repeats softly. "By…"

"My boyfriend," Sarah says dully. Even now, she's still got that slightly vacant look in her eyes, and her hands squeeze tight, repetitive, around Mr. Fluffikins. Her actions remind me of a cat, kneading its place before deeming it worthy to settle down.

What's going to happen to her now, I wonder?

And—honestly more importantly to me—what's going to happen to Scarlett?

But Scarlett is hanging on every word Sarah says, so I return my attention to her story, too.

"He talked me into running a drop-off for him," she says, and looks at her mother. "Drugs," she adds, and I see Mrs. G purse her lips as though she wants to say she's not exactly the naive woman her daughter seems to think. Not anymore, at least.

"I pulled up in the car and there was a woman there, this older lady who was dressed all fancy, so I…I felt okay about it. I got out, asked if she was my contact—" She pauses. "And that was it. Next time I woke up, I was underground. Literally. She'd buried me alive in a shallow grave, in this plywood box. I had to…fight. Dig my way out." She swallows, looks around us. "And when I finally broke through to the surface, desperate for air, she was sitting there in a chair with a book, and she said…" She sucks in a breath, as though she's back there in the moment, heaving in lungfuls of fresh oxygen. "She said it took me too long, and I'd need to train hard if I wanted to stay alive. But then she put out a hand, helped me out of my—of my grave, and—" She chokes off for a moment, sniffs hard, and goes on. "And she said I had been reborn into something—someone—new."

My head jerks involuntarily as I stare at Scarlett, who catches my eye and gives a tiny, confirming nod.

So Scarlett suffered the same thing. But willingly. I'd never undergone that particular torture. Grandmother's upped her game over the years, it seems.

"I didn't just give in, of course. I tried to escape. Many times. She had me beaten—locked away for weeks—months, maybe," Ariadne's raspy voice pulls me back. "Trapped in a dark cell, never seeing sunlight. She'd punish me constantly, torture methods you can't even imagine." Her dulled eyes flit over to Scarlett for just a moment. "You know what I'm talking about."

Scarlett's jaw tightens infinitesimally, a muscle feathering in her cheek. Yes. She knows exactly the depravities Grandmother is capable of.

And so do I.

"She told me I should be grateful," Ariadne continues in that same emotionless monotone. "That she was wasting precious time on me because she saw potential."

She lets out a hollow, mirthless chuckle that sends a chill down my spine. The emptiness in her eyes, the complete absence of light or hope—it's horrifying.

Like someone has pulled out her very soul and left an empty husk behind.

"Eventually, she allowed me to see the truth for myself. Proved that my mother really had moved on without me, accepted her new life."

"But I hadn't—oh, Sarah, I've never really moved on. I grieved you so much and for so long—" Mrs. Graves breaks off, trying not to cry.

But when Sarah looks at her mother, she doesn't seem to see the pained expression on Mrs. G's face. "But you did," she says. "You did move on. I watched from outside as you…as you went about your life, happy without me. Happy with—them."

She juts her chin toward Hadria and me, resentment lacing her tone. "I watched from the outside as you doted on them, laughing and smiling like I never even existed. Like your life was complete without your daughter in it."

Mrs. Graves looks utterly stricken, her eyes brimming over now. When she finally musters a response, her voice is little more than a hoarse croak. "Sarah, you were my whole heart. You have to know I never stopped?—"

"Don't." Ariadne looks away, effectively silencing her mother. "I saw what I saw. And I saw a happy little family." Her voice changes, grows thin as she turns back to me. "I hated you most of all," she snarls with a venomous glare that has me instinctively tensing. "You were the one who truly took my place. My bedroom. My mother. My bear." She twists Mr. Fluffikins so hard in her hands that his head is in danger of ripping off.

"I never—" The protest catches in my throat as Mrs. Graves shoots me a quelling look. Right, not the time to get riled up over Sarah's crazy grievances.

And especially not over a stuffed toy.

"What about me?" Scarlett's voice is quiet but we all look at her, even Sarah. "You hated me from the moment I arrived at Grandmother's house. But I had nothing to do with your past."

Sarah spits, "Because you threw your own life away! How could you give up everything like that? You had a family—parents—but you chose Grandmother over them!"

Silence falls in the wake of Sarah's outburst. Scarlett has gone deathly pale, her face rigid.

But Sarah seems to forget her, letting out a bitter chuckle. "I realized there was no going back. I gave up. Accepted my new life. Threw myself into the work…and was rewarded for it. I was allowed things the rest of the recruits weren't. Luxuries."

Luxuries? Oh, God. That strange decor in Ariadne's bedroom back at the high-rise—that was Grandmother's idea of incentives. But I have to hand it to the sadistic bitch. She was certainly effective in her methods.

"I broke away only once after that," Ariadne murmurs, her gaze growing distant and haunted. "To find the bastard who sold me. But he was already dead. I couldn't even get my revenge on him. I went back to Grandmother because I had nothing else."

Mrs. Graves rises abruptly, clearing her throat. "That's enough for now," she says. "Sarah needs to rest. She'll stay here with me."

But I catch the barest flicker of uncertainty in Mrs. Graves' eyes and realize—she hasn't told Sarah the entire truth yet. That Hadria and I were the ones who avenged her, at her mother's request. Probably better if we reserve that information for now.

"I'm not comfortable with you having an assassin in your rooms, Mrs. Graves." Hadria, thankfully, seems to be of the same mind as me—until she turns to Scarlett. "And there's still the matter of the other one to deal with as well."

Mrs. Graves whirls on her, eyes blazing. "If Sarah is sent away, then I will go too."

I can practically see the gears turning in Hadria's mind, calculating the potential consequences of losing Mrs. Graves…again. When she finally speaks, her tone has softened considerably.

"I'm not suggesting Sarah leave, merely that she be confined to her own room—with guards—until we can trust her."

A fair compromise. But Mrs. Graves' lips are pressed into a grim line. "Of course I trust my own daughter!"

"But why should anyone else trust me?"

The soft utterance from Ariadne—Sarah, damn it—catches us all by surprise. She sits hunched in the chair, looking utterly drained.

"Sarah, sweetheart—" Mrs. Graves starts, but Sarah cuts her off with a weary shake of her head.

"It's a fair offer, Mom. If I was Hadria Imperioli, I wouldn't trust me either." She meets Hadria's thoughtful gaze. "I'll accept the guards and confinement."

Mrs. Graves grumbles, "I don't see why Sarah has to be guarded, if Scarlett will be allowed to roam free."

"She won't be."

The chill in Hadria's tone is felt by all of us. I chance a sidelong glance at her, and I'm acutely aware of the weight of the Beretta tucked into my lower back, snug against my spine.

But I play it cool for now. I don't want to give her a reason to doubt my loyalties further. Pasting on a carefully neutral expression, I turn to face Hadria fully. "Well, why don't we head up to the war room to discuss that, Boss?"

The words are polite, even deferential, but it's an undisguised attempt to extricate us from a volatile situation. For a moment, Hadria simply stares at me.

"Very well," she acquiesces at last. "Mrs. Graves, we'll have someone see to Sarah's accommodations shortly."

And with that, Hadria turns on her heel and makes for the door, not even bothering to glance back to ensure we follow.

I send Scarlett a warning look, and we trail after Hadria together. Along the way, our hands brush together, and I seize the moment, take her hand in mine, squeeze it briefly in a silent reassurance.

And after a moment, she squeezes back.