6. Lyssa

Just as Hadria promised,we're back in Elysium the next day. As the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in orange and pink, I wander through the halls of the newly-built mansion. The scent of fresh paint and the gleam of untouched hardwood floors serve as reminders that this place is still a work in progress, a canvas waiting to be filled with the trappings of our empire. My footsteps echo off the bare walls as I walk through, and I can hear other members of the Syndicate taking a tour as well, excited murmurs and laughs from somewhere deep in the house.

I stop before the war room doors. These, at least, are the same as before: heavy and imposing, the three-headed dog insignia at the center threatening to devour anyone who dares enter. I give Cerberus' central face my customary boop on the nose, smiling at his three familiar snarling faces. Hadria walks up next to me, her presence as familiar as the weight of the gun holstered at my hip. She leans in close, her voice barely above a murmur. "It really was time to get out from under the Bianchis. Whispers on the street say the Syndicate was looking vulnerable. I didn't like hiding behind Juno Bianchi's skirts, but it was necessary—for a time."

I just nod, but my mind is flashing back to the Sokolov bratva attack from the other night. The memory of Scarlett fighting by my side sends an unexpected thrill down my spine.

I clear my throat. "Makes sense," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "We need to show strength now. Remind them who they're dealing with."

"And Grandmother? Any progress?"

I shrug one shoulder, hoping to seem nonchalant. "Nothing yet from our gentleman friend. Give him time."

Hadria's brow furrows slightly, but she doesn't press the issue. "We have a new batch of recruits," she says, changing the subject. "And now that we're back where we belong, I need you to whip them into shape, make sure they're ready for whatever comes our way."

I shake my head. "Taking out Grandmother is our top priority. I can't afford any distractions, and certainly not a bunch of wannabes. Not right now."

Hadria arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth. "Since when are you calling the shots, Wolf?"

"Our priority is taking out Grandmother," I reiterate, unable to temper the edge in my tone. The threat is larger than Hadria seems to grasp. "She's a bigger danger than a few bright-eyed recruits."

Hadria opens her mouth, no doubt to unleash a scathing rebuttal, but we're interrupted by the arrival of Aurora in a gauzy yellow sundress. A ray of sunshine made flesh, just like always. It'd be sickening if she wasn't so tough inside.

I've seen just how tough with my own eyes. And it's a different kind of strength to mine. To Hadria's. The kind of strength the Syndicate needs right now.

"Lyssa, you still need to decorate your bedroom suite to your liking," she says warmly. "You kept putting off meeting with the interior decorators, but we're home now—it's time to make it your own."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her perky insistence on domesticating this wolf. "I'll get around to it, Suzy."

"Why not let Aurora do it for you, if you can't spare the time?" Hadria says, smiling down at her wife-to-be like she's the only person in the whole of Elysium.

"I'll get around to it eventually," I say quickly. Sensing a chance to escape, I give them both a tight smile and hurry away, eager to see what else the new Elysium has to offer.

I check the gun range first, which has been upgraded. Our weapons have been restocked and I can't wait to break them in. But what I'm most looking forward to is the training room—my domain. I put my hand on the panel next to the hidden door to open it and take a deep, happy breath as I descend into the facility's subterranean heart.

It used to be a brutal place, harsh fluorescents gleaming off steel weights and mats with the stains of old bloodshed. And as I descend the steps, the familiar scent of sweat fills my nostrils, but when I come out at the bottom, I find myself staring and blinking around.

The new training room is equipped with state-of-the-art sparring dummies, weights, cardio machines…I roam around, making a mental inventory of the new installations. The main gym is a vast playground of potential—racks of every kind of blade, a full boxing ring, sparring spaces. More than enough to put the new recruits through their paces.

I know Hadria's right. We do need to train them. They're weak and arrogant when they come in, and it's up to me to get them into shape—so they can keep themselves alive.

I spend a few minutes pummeling one of the heavy boxing bags, its thick canvas embracing each punishing blow. The rhythm calms my mind…for a few blissful moments, at least. Until my thoughts inevitably stray.

I see Scarlett naked again, pouring cold water all over herself like she was daring nature itself to try to kill her. The way she bent over and?—

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope. I viciously punch at the bag, my next strikes landing with bone-jarring force. I've trained myself to suppress such pesky human weaknesses. Attraction is a flaw, a liability.

And yet…Scarlett's arrival in my life upended everything I thought I knew. Cracked open fissures in the thick armor I thought was impenetrable, allowing flashes of unwanted tenderness, protectiveness...

With a snarl of disgust at myself, I abandon the heavy bag and head back upstairs for some fresh air. All these lingering paint fumes must be making me hallucinate or something.

I nearly collide with Mrs. Graves in the foyer as I stalk through. She stiffens almost imperceptibly, then turns away.

I reach out, grasping her arm before she can go. "How long are you going to give me the cold shoulder?" I demand in a low tone.

Her lips tighten. She says nothing.

"You've been part of this Syndicate for years," I point out. "You know how we operate. What's your problem this time?"

"My problem? You know what my problem is, Lyssa, even if you don't want to admit it."

I flinch inwardly at her words, grateful my face reveals nothing. "You're angry at me for doing my duty. What about Hadria? She gave the kill order. I just followed it. You want to be pissed, be pissed at her."

Mrs. Graves' expression softens slightly. "I'm no happier with her than I am with you, if you must know. But I hate to think you let your duty override your heart so easily. It's unhealthy, Lyssa. It's—it's dangerous to live that way."

"That's pretty rich, coming from you," I say bluntly, but I manage to bite back the rest of what I want to say. Why bother? Pointing out that she's no stranger to vengeance herself won't do any good.

But she knows exactly what I mean, I can see it in her face.

"Yes," she says softly. "Yes, it is. But I don't want to see you ending up like me."

She pats my arm in a rare gesture of affection, then turns and walks away, leaving me staring after her.