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I mean, I’m definitely not in love with Scarlett, either. I just identify with her. That’s all. We’re two people who have lived through Grandmother’s so-called lessons, so it’s probably just trauma-bonding or some psychological shit like that.

Okay, yeah, Scar’s also hotter than the sun, but sex isn’t love, and neither is empathy.

Plus she’s a dead woman walking, as far as the Syndicate is concerned. Tomorrow night, she and I will revisit the scene of Adam’s murder, hopefully take a step closer to unraveling the twisted web that brought us together. And once I can get to Grandmother through Scarlett, I won’t need her anymore.

And I’ll dispose of her, as ordered.

CHAPTER 20

Lyssa

But the next night, before I can head out to the meeting with Scarlett, Hadria’s called her own meeting for the senior Syndicate members—and I don’t want to ditch, because it’s happening at Elysium.

The war room in the new mansion is still unfinished, nothing but bare concrete walls and floors, though the same big fucking table is here now, plus our chairs—and Hadria’s throne. But despite the lack of comforts, it’s secure—newly soundproofed with audio disruptors laced through the walls to prevent eavesdropping.

It’s still a little strange until we all take our seats, and then everything feels familiar again. My chair is in my usual spot near the head of the long table, at Hadria’s right hand. Marco and Ricky have moved way up the table, too, since last time we were all sitting around it, and although there are fewer of us these days—the gardens outside watered with the blood of many people I thought were friends—our ranks are growing again.

It’s good to see.

Also good to see Hadria lounging in that damn throne of hers, though I’d never say so to her face.

“Report,” she says coolly, and with that one word, it feels like we’re finally home.

I launch into an overview of our position—the last six months of the Syndicate’s growth since the purging, our tightening grip on some of the best smuggling routes in and out of Chicago. “The Imperiolis are backing off. Our targeted strikes are working.”

Something twitches in Hadria’s jaw right around where the smile muscles would be, but she remains impassive. “Good.”

“They’re still paying off or threatening some of our usual medical contacts, though,” Marco pipes up, his brows knitting together. “Trying to cut off our support.”

Smart move on their part, though I don’t say it. Depriving us of skilled medics who will treat our people is a simple way to weaken the Syndicate over time.

Hadria nods. “I think we’re all aware of that. I’ve decided to send Aurora out to speak to a few people, see if she can convince them back to our employ.”

There’s a murmur of surprise through the room at that.

This time, Hadria does smile, though it’s cold and calculated. “It’s that sweet demeanor of hers—she’s much better at charming people than I am.”

A faint chuckle goes around the table I can’t help smirking, too. Our little Suzy Sunshine has a way of wrapping people around her little finger without them even realizing it.

“If she can handle the Boss,” Ricky rumbles, echoing my thoughts, “I think a few medics would be child’s play for her.”

“Any other suggestions?” Hadria says, with a glare at Ricky that he just grins at. “Anyone know a few stand-in medics while we’re waiting?”

“Scarlett has medical training,” I say without thinking.

All eyes swing to me.

Dead silence. Then—”Who the fuck is Scarlett?” Marco asks, trading a bewildered look with another Syndicate member.

Ah, shit. “She…”

“Scarlett is the name of the assassin who has been killing our Syndicate members,” Hadria supplies. “Lyssa has been working to eliminate the threat.”

Her voice is calm. But I know that tone. I’ve fucked up, bad, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

The temperature in the room plummets about twenty degrees as everyone processes that bombshell. Ricky breaks the silence first.

“You’re shitting me,” he growls at me. “She doesn’t have a bullet in her skull yet? You said you were taking care of it, Wolf.”