Page 56

Too fast.
Too fuckingclose.
When she said her mother died, it gutted me. Because I knew that kind of grief. The kind that rewires your DNA, poisons your sleep, turns you into a monster with a pretty mask.
I still haven’t turned to face her.
I can’t.
If I do, she’ll see it. All of it. I stride to the liquor cabinet without registering it. The glass is in my hand but my fingers are numb.
The pulse of memory, though? It sears, burning everything in its path.
“Ironveil wasn’t supposed to exist anymore,” I finally say. My voice sounds like it’s being dragged through glass. “I buried it after they killed her.”
“Her?”
“Rina. My sister.”
“Your sister,” Dahlia repeats softly. “And they are… the Vesper Syndicate?”
I nod.
“She was nineteen. Bright. Unstoppable. A hacker like you, only cleaner. She thought she could outplay them. And when she tried… they made an example out of her. Filmed it. Made mewatch. Then they dumped her body on my doorstep.”
The room tilts. My knees almost give out.
“She was everything good in me,” I say. “And when she died, all I had left was revenge. So I infiltrated Vesper. Learned how they move. Who they bribe. Who they ruin. Ironveil was the failsafe—a lockbox of everything I’ve collected on them for ten years.”
“And Specter?” she asks, voice cautious.
My eyes meet hers. “Specter was… her alias. Before they erased her.”
Dahlia steps back like she’s been hit.
“I chose you because you carried the name. I thought it was fate. Or maybe just guilt. Maybe I wanted to weaponize you.”
I laugh bitterly.
“But you weren’t a weapon. You were thedetonator. Getting too close with every heist. I know you’ve already heard about them. It was only a matter of time before your little online poll chose them next. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Her lips tremble. “So that’s why you brought me here? That’s why I’m in danger?”
“Every other reason still holds. But, yes,” I say. “Ironveil is locked, but not impenetrable. And now they know something’s moving. You’re a liability, Dahlia.”
She flinches, and I instantly regret the word.
But then she lifts her chin. “Then let me do what I do. Protect me. Or let me go. But stop withholding.”
I step forward. Cupping her face, my thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“Ican’tlet you go.” The words leave me before I can stop them.
Because it’s true. She’s already under my skin. Already inside every decision I make.
This started as a game of collateral and revenge.
But now?