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18. Scarlett

This place is a maze,and everyone seems to know where they're going except for me. Elysium is breathtaking, to say the least. The mansion makes Grandmother's high-rise look like a cheap motel in comparison. Every inch oozes money, from the crimson carpets in the bedrooms to the modern-art lighting fixtures that cast a warm, buttery glow across the flawless hardwood floors.

We pass what feels like a hundred rooms, and in each of them, I can see Syndicate members—some lounging around, some napping, some laughing and talking until they catch a glimpse of our little train heading by.

It's so vastly different from the cold, sterile environment Grandmother preferred. And in the penthouse suite, luxury was merely an illusion, a facade crafted to instill a sense of wanting. Of desire. Luxury was a privilege. Something to be earned by following Grandmother's orders. By respecting the hierarchy.

In the heart of Elysium, things seem very different.

The people I see here all have a casual ease to them. There are no nerves. No flinching, even when Hades sweeps by the doorway—only curiosity.

And as we walk by each room, we pick up a following, until the whole of the Syndicate seems to be breathing down my neck. But after a flight of stairs and a long corridor, we all stop outside a huge set of doors with a three-headed dog at the center of it.

Cerberus, I presume.

Hadria shoves the doors wide open and reaches behind her for Aurora's hand. Aurora, who has been completely silent since telling me off downstairs, brushes by me to take her fiancée's hand, but she gives me a cold look worthy of Hades herself.

Lyssa's grip tightens on my own hand as she leans in, her lips a hair's breadth from my ear. "Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking."

I give a tiny nod, letting her pull me into the room beyond. This must be the fabled "war room," though it's much more understated than I expected, especially compared to the rest of this place. Granted, it's clearly still under renovation of sorts, the air thick with the scent of fresh wood lacquer and the faint traces of sawdust.

A long table dominates the center of the space, flanked by rows of high-backed chairs. And at its head rests a single, enormous chair that wouldn't look out of place in a throne room.

Someone around here has a well-developed flair for the dramatic.

Hadria heads straight for that throne, of course, and Aurora takes the seat next to her left hand.

My gaze instinctively tracks to the vacant chair immediately to its right, which remains empty even as the rest of the Syndicate flows in around Lyssa and me. I bet that's where Lyssa usually sits, there at Hadria's right hand, ready to enforce the will of Hades.

But Lyssa doesn't move from my side, standing tall and firm beside me at the foot of the table. I wish I could borrow just an ounce of that unshakable confidence right about now.

The last of the Syndicate members onsite have come in, and someone closes those big doors so that the muted scuffles and hushed murmurs sound even louder in what I think must be a soundproofed space. Some take seats while others cluster behind, standing in loose knots, staring at Lyssa with undisguised curiosity.

They must be the new recruits, I realize. They haven't yet earned their places at the table.

Hadria doesn't keep the group in suspense for long. She stands up and the murmurs die at once. "This..." Her tone drips with cold disdain as one long finger extends in my direction. "Is the assassin who took the lives of Eddie Torres, Bulldog Brassi, and Yuri Petrov. The same wretch Lyssa claimed to have eliminated with her own hands."

A low rumble of outrage ripples through the room at her words. Faces contort with anger as the Syndicate takes in the implications.

"I'll fucking kill her myself!" someone mutters, and that starts everyone off. Death threats, profanities, and accusations hurl through the air toward me until it feels like a matter of seconds before they tear me apart with their bare hands.

Then, cutting through the noise, Lyssa speaks. "Scarlett is under my protection. Anyone who moves against her will answer to me." A hush falls again as shock and thinly-veiled fear cross faces, flash in eyes.

I'm under her protection?

Something warms inside me, something aside from the rage and the hatred that Grandmother liked to stoke. Something…nice.

But then Hadria speaks again. "So you admit to deceiving us? To sheltering this assassin after she slaughtered our people?"

I don't think Lyssa's blood pressure has even risen, she's so calm. "I do."

"And now you expect to be forgiven for your betrayal?"

This is probably my only chance. If I have any hope of salvaging some sliver of redemption, I have to seize it. And I don't want Lyssa taking the blame for the things I've done.

Ignoring Lyssa's furious glare, I let go of her hand and take a step forward. "Lyssa has done nothing compared to me. And I know I can't ask for your forgiveness. What I did was…unforgivable." A tremor races through me as I force myself to meet their scowls one by one. These people—my victims' brothers and sisters in arms. What right do I have to beg for mercy from them?

But what else can I do?

"If I could go back, if I could undo the damage I've caused, I would. In a heartbeat. But please don't blame Lyssa for what I've done. She—she really did mean to kill me, if that helps…"

I trail off.

I don't think it does help. Hadria doesn't even deign to respond, merely fixes me with a look that makes my insides curdle. I'm pretty sure the next words out of her mouth are going to be my death sentence.

But it's Lyssa's clear voice that sounds next. "We killed the wrong man." She takes a step to be there beside me, and one more, to be in front of me. Shielding me. "For Mrs. G," she clarifies. "And for Sarah. We killed him, Hades, even though he wasn't guilty."

"He was guilty," Hadria says frostily. "If not of Sarah Graves' murder, then?—"

"But that's why we killed him," Lyssa insists. "And I know it doesn't sit right with you. Because it doesn't sit right with me, either. And how are we any better than Scarlett, here, if that's what we did?"

Hadria remains silent as she slowly shifts her scrutiny from Lyssa to me, then back again. "And what would you have me do, Wolf? I can't change the past. But I won't let someone who's killed our own walk free."

There's a murmur of agreement around the room, but Lyssa doesn't flinch. She just leans into that icy glare with her own flinty resolve. "Right now, Hades, I don't care what you do. I'm leaving to hunt down Grandmother, as ordered. And I'm taking Scarlett with me to do it. I'm going to finish what you sent me to do from the start—and then after that, we can figure out the rest of this mess. Scarlett is not the priority right now. Grandmother is." She takes a step backward. "Scarlett. Come with me."

There's no way to resist Lyssa when she sounds like that. I back up a few paces with her.

As for Hadria, she leaves her chair and walks toward us, stopping about halfway down the room, where she bares her teeth in what I think is supposed to be a smile. "Well, aren't you just full of demands tonight?"

"I'm not demanding anything," Lyssa replies calmly. "I'm just telling you how this is going to play out."

Every muscle in my body goes rigid as I brace for the inevitable explosion.

But then Aurora rises, too, and walks with determination to Hadria. "Please don't do this," she says softly, looking up into her fiancée's face. Hadria doesn't even look at her. She's too busy glaring at Lyssa.

And then Aurora does the most extraordinary thing. She sinks right down to the ground at Hadria's feet, curled up before her in a position of total obeisance. I'm not the only one who's surprised by it, either, judging by the murmurs around the room.

She looks up again and says, "Please, Hadria. Let them go. For my sake, if nothing else. I can't bear to see any more violence."

A flush of color is climbing up Hadria's neck, and she bends to pull Aurora to her feet—gently, reverently, but firmly. "Sunshine, they?—"

"Please," Aurora begs, cutting off whatever protest Hadria intended. "I know these aren't easy choices, but Lyssa has never hurt the Syndicate. She's done everything you ever asked. It's time for you to trust her. To let her do what she needs to do. Like she says—everything else can wait."

For an endless stretch, the entire room seems to hang suspended as the two women simply look at each other, caught in some silent, private discussion. Then, almost imperceptibly, Hadria's expression softens.

"I would do anything for you," she says in a low voice to Aurora. But then she turns to the rest of the Syndicate. "But this isn't about me. This is about the Syndicate."

Aurora immediately turns to face them as well. "Hadria is right," she says. "So I'm asking all of you to trust that Lyssa is acting in our best interests, despite the…confusion we might feel about her actions. But she would never betray us—you all know that as well as I do."

Hadria's side-glance at Aurora suggests admiration, although only a beat of stunned silence greets the impassioned plea. "Alright," she says decisively. "Since we're a Syndicate, let's put it to the vote. All those in favor of my immediately executing this assassin, Scarlett—make it known."

A startled murmur ripples through the gathered people as they exchange uncertain glances and weighted looks. They begin to rise from the table one by one, until perhaps a third of them stand, committed to my death.

I can hardly blame them.

Hadria doesn't seem happy about it, though. I think she was expecting more of them. "And those against?"

There's another noticeable pause, a beat of hesitation, but I see Aurora staring at the man called Mario, the one with the knife. He makes a small face, then gets warily to his feet. Slowly, gradually, a smattering of other Syndicate members follow suit until the numbers stabilize at a rough third as well.

"What about the rest of you?" Hadria asks impatiently.

"Abstaining," grunts one of them, and the rest of the undecideds nod their heads.

"Well," Hadria says at last. "This is quite the impasse we find ourselves in."

Lyssa's fingers lace through mine again, her warm palm contrasting with the clammy chill of my own skin. She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Looks to me like the Syndicate has spoken, Hades. So Scarlett and I will handle Grandmother, just as I swore we would. Once that's done…well, we'll return here to face whatever justice the Syndicate deems fit. And maybe a few of the abstentions will have made their minds up by then." She smiles, that scary look that I've seen directed at me more than once, the one that means she's dead fucking serious about whatever she's about to say. "But until we return to Elysium, anyone who gets in our way, anyone who thinks they might take justice into their own hands, will answer to me. Keep your distance if you value your lives."

That threat settles over a silent room as Lyssa turns to leave, pulling me along in her wake.

At the door, I hazard one final look back at the assembled Syndicate. At Hadria, standing stock-still with Aurora clutching at her. At the collection of men and women sitting somewhere between disbelief and indignation as they process the events of the last few minutes.

Then the heavy doors shut behind us with a dull thud, and I stop looking back.

I look forward, to Lyssa, let her pull me with her down the stairs and out of the front doors. Within minutes, we're back in the car, going just a little too fast down the winding drive toward the gate, which opens for us without Lyssa having to stop.

Only when we're back out on the highway do I finally dare to say anything.

"What the hell have you done, Lyssa?"

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