23. Lyssa

I makeScarlett leave Valentino's, ignoring all her protests. "Wait for me at the motel where we hooked up that one time," I tell her. "I'll meet you there later. Take the cab, and I'll be there with you in a few hours."

She still hesitates, hazel eyes searching mine. I know she's worried, afraid of what might happen. But there's something else in her gaze too, something that makes my heart ache.

Trust.

Love.

"Be careful, Lyssa," she says softly. "Please."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I watch her go, a knot forming in my stomach. Then I pull out my phone and call Hadria. "We need to meet. Now."

I'm pretty sure she won't try to kill me. I really hope she doesn't. Because then I'll have to defend myself…

And I don't want to hurt my sister any more than I already have.

An hour later, Hadria stalks into Valentino's, her eyes as cold as a Chicago winter. She walks right past my table without even looking at me, and into the private, reserved room she always has here at Valentino's. I follow, nodding to a server as she brings in the bottle of scotch I ordered, plus a couple of glasses. Then she leaves, closing the door behind him, and the silence stretches between us.

Hadria refuses to sit, so I remain standing too.

"Well?" she asks, her voice sharp as a blade. "Have you brought me here to pretend once more that you killed the assassin?"

I grit my teeth, tamping down the urge to snap back. "Knock it off. I have information you need to hear. And you're going to need a drink after hearing it."

I pour a glass of scotch and hold it out to her. She eyes it for a moment before taking it. I pour one for myself and raise it in a toast. "Well, here it is: Grandmother met with your father, right here at Valentino's. I think they're working together. Working to…eliminate you."

Hadria goes still, her face a mask of stone. Then, slowly, she raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip. She sits, and I follow suit.

"Are you sure?" she asks, but then shakes her head. "Of course you're sure."

I can't help my cynical smirk. "So you still trust me in these matters, at least?"

Hadria looks at me so hard I feel like she's trying to see straight into my soul. "I trust you with my life, Lyssa. No matter what mistakes you might be engaging in."

So that's how she thinks of Scarlett. But I nod. "We're sisters."

"Yes. But right now, we're sisters having a disagreement."

I'm just relieved to see that her ruthless pragmatism is winning out over her anger. I pour us each another drink. "What do you want to do?"

"Tell me everything you know," she says. "Then I'll decide."

"The ma?tre d' confirmed it. Grandmother and Zepp, having a cozy little dinner. Just the two of them."

Hadria's hand tightens around her glass. "My father hates me, of course, but last we talked, he wanted me to come home like a good little girl. Take over the Family. He only has one heir now, of course, now that Nero's dead."

Sometimes I wonder how Hadria felt about having to kill her own brother. But when I hear her talk about him so casually, I know for sure she didn't even think twice.

I wonder what that might mean for me, her chosen sister.

"Zepp knows you won't go down without a fight," I say.

"Which may be why he needs Grandmother. She has an army of trained assassins at her beck and call—like Scarlett." Hadria's eyes flash. "Your pet assassin. She might be involved in this somehow."

"She's not involved. She wants Grandmother dead just as much as we do, and she knows nothing about the old woman's wider plans."

"Doesn't she?" Hadria leans back, her gaze assessing. "Or is that just what she's telling you, to get close to you? To make you let your guard down?"

I shake my head, refusing to let Hadria's words plant seeds of doubt. "You don't know her, Hades. Not like I do."

"No, I don't. And that's the problem." Hadria pushes away her scotch and stands. "You're letting your feelings cloud your judgment, Lyssa. You're forgetting what she is."

"And what is she, exactly?" I stand too, meeting Hadria's gaze head-on.

"An enemy. A trained killer. A weapon, forged by Grandmother. Just like you were, once upon a time."

Her words hit hard—because she's right. I was Grandmother's creature, her perfect little child soldier. But there's one thing Hadria keeps forgetting.

"I broke free," I say, my voice quiet but firm. "I got out. And so did Scarlett. She's not Grandmother's puppet anymore."

Hadria's smile is sad, almost pitying. "Are you sure about that? Are you really sure she's not just playing a long game?"

I think of Scarlett, of the pain and longing in her eyes. Of the way she melts in my arms, the way she gasps my name in the throes of passion. The way she looks at me, like…

Like I'm her whole world.

"I'm sure," I say. "Actually, I've never been more certain of anything in my life." I ignore the way Hadria's eyebrows bounce up in surprise. "Now, forget about Scarlett. What are you going to do about Zepp?"

Hadria's face darkens. "I already told him last time that if I had to see him again, it'd be for the last time. So I suppose I'll have to send in a messenger rather than go myself." She looks straight at me. "You will go in there and ask him straight out what the hell he thinks he's doing."

"Me? Alone? I'm good, Hades, but I'm not a-whole-fucking-Family good."

"I don't want you to kill anyone. That's the point." She sighs, loses a little of the edge. "I did vow to him that the next time he saw my face, it would be the last time. I meant it, Lyssa. On my honor, I can't walk in there myself without killing him. Will you be my proxy?"

Will I?

At least it's a request, not an order. "Alright," I tell her. "Although I don't like those mafia games, you know that."

"I know. And if he's really working with Grandmother, then I'm done playing nice."

I throw back my drink and stand. "Then what are we waiting for?"

We head down to the parking lot where her motorbike awaits, and she hands me the helmet. As we swing our legs over the bike, Hadria turns to me. "Where's the assassin hiding now? Surely you haven't left her to her own devices?"

"She's somewhere safe." My mind flashes to the seedy motel where I sent Scarlett, thinking about the feel of her soft skin against rough sheets.

Hadria revs the engine. "She'll never be safe, Lyssa," she shouts over the noise. "She'll always be a recognized enemy of the Syndicate. You need to come to terms with that."

I say nothing, but Hadria hasn't finished.

"You might have won the vote back at Elysium for now," Hadria continues, "but there are plenty in the Syndicate who still want her dead. And I can hardly blame them."

With that, I jam the helmet onto my head so I don't have to hear anything further, and Hadria speeds off into the night.

But all the way to her father's palatial property, Hadria's words echo in my mind. Scarlett will always be a target. And the thought of losing her…it's unbearable.

I think of the motel, of Scarlett waiting for me as I head into the lion's den, about to confront one of the most powerful men in Chicago's underworld.

And all I can think about is a pair of hazel eyes and the woman who surprised me with love.