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I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Thanks,” I say. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he says quietly, and the line goes silent.

The only thing I’ve ever wanted out of life was to be happy and safe. Rowan makes me feel that. I’ve spent so long running—running from Canning, from the dangers of Senna, from him.But maybe running isn’t the answer. Maybe it’s time to stop, to see where we end up.

Maybe it’s time I stop fighting it.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Rowan

It’s been two days and Key’s contact, Daniel Tang, still hasn’t made a move. His routine is boring, nothing but back and forth from a dingy apartment in Harrow to a convenience store for snacks, and then back again. Not to mention a concerning porn addiction.

Meanwhile, more bodies keep turning up around Senna, all linked to Haze. Word’s spreading that The Snake is behind it. Our reputation is taking a hit on the street and the police are sniffing around again. If that wasn’t bad enough, it looks like the drug kills at random. The deaths are never linked to overdoses, just unluckiness, which makes it ten times worse. But maybe the piling bodies will discourage more kids from buying it.

The only positive right now is that the fallout from Anders' death hasn't been catastrophic yet. We’ve sold the story that she got too close to the wrong people, and the ones who hired her have gone underground, scared to get their hands dirty and risk their position in The Judiciary.

I know they’re only biding their time. They are still after Hawthorne’s research, and I don’t doubt other players are working to find it too.

But that’s not my biggest concern right now.

Alex is.

I haven’t seen him since Sying. I could have gone to his apartment, but I haven’t. He needs time—time to process what Kane did, us, everything. At least Halle is keeping me updated.He’s been spending most of his time with her, and that has kept me from losing my mind. But I know I’m close to the edge.

I walk through The Serpentine, a spiralling chrome skyscraper in the heart of Queen’s Peak. It acts as The Snake’s headquarters, where all corporate business, fronted by a real estate empire, takes place.

The lobby is sleek, made of glass and sharp edges. Employees smile and bow as I pass them, making my way to the boardroom on the thirtieth floor to meet The Keepers.

Outside, November has begun to settle in. The leaves have long abandoned the trees, and the sky is heavy with slate-coloured clouds.

A knot of anticipation sits in my chest. If Haze’s mastermind is within The Keepers, maybe this meeting can flush them out. It’s a longshot, but it’s the best option I have right now without causing more panic.

When the elevator doors slide open, I spot a few members of The Keepers already seated inside the boardroom, speaking quietly amongst themselves, probably wondering why I’ve called them here. Excluding my father, my brothers and myself, there are nine other Keepers.

When I walk into the room, a few of them meet my eyes, the low hum of conversation halting. I can’t help my smile. I may have fallen far down the hierarchy in The Snake, but I’ve always made it my business to stay close to them and know their secrets.

One day I’ll need them.

My mother is already seated at the head of the long glass table that has a view of Senna and Demont River. Her eyes meet mine and she gives me a curt nod. I spot the gold pin on her blazer, a serpent swallowing its tail, the marker of her station as Head of The Snake. I nod back and slip into my chair between Hayden and Xander.

The room quickly settles, falling into a tense silence and without a word, everyone rises, bowing low toward my mother. We don’t lift our heads until her quiet command tells us to sit again.

“I won’t waste time with pleasantries,” she begins, her voice cutting through the room.

A few of The Keepers look between each other.

“Here we go,” Xander whispers.

“As some of you may have heard, there is a new drug called Haze being sold in our territory but it’s not just any drug. So far, a countless number of people have been found dead, a few of them in our clubs and our warehouses. There is suspicion that it’s dirty.”

My eyes sweep the room, gauging reactions. Most look confused, a few indifferent. No one looks guilty. Not yet.

“Someone within The Snake is not only allowing Haze to circulate in our territory; they are actively facilitating it.”

Faces shift—some tense, some still unreadable, but no one looks guilty necessarily.

“People dying from drugs is not exactly new. Why is this a problem?” James Tartt asks.

He’s one of the youngest and newest members of The Keepers after his father passed away a year ago. He also has a terrible gambling habit that has cost his family millions. I’ve kept that particular fact to myself, and for the last six months, I’ve made sure the casinos don’t come after him.