Page 39 of Carnival

Rose

I ’d be lying if I said that this whole thing isn’t making me want to throw up in my mouth.

The room is packed with tension, and even Noelle, who’s usually pretty good at keeping her composure and acting rationally in any given situation, is slowly getting irritated.

Her lips are pulled into a thin, straight line, and she’s staring through the wall.

Who knows where her thoughts have led her?

The two De Santis siblings and their respective partners are definitely still tired. Last week, they held a game of Kortlek, the first one where Aria participated without sneaking in as the prey and hoping for the best.

Doing that once was one too many times.

Noelle learned all of the hacking skills from her friend, Lucas, who ended up marrying her brother, Niko. She passed down the knowledge to Arlo, and I’m pretty confident he surpassed her a long time ago.

His fingers are gliding over the keyboard easily; the only sound in the room is our breathing and the keyboard. Aria’s holding in her breath, staring directly into Arlo’s side profile, as if that would make him work any faster. I’m shocked he hasn’t smacked her yet.

Blair is reading a book in the corner, seemingly unbothered.

Well, it’s not that she’s completely unbothered.

I caught her flicking her eyes toward Arlo whenever he’d pause his typing, her eyes lighting up with excitement, ever so slightly.

But she’d go back to the book on her lap, and she’s definitely the most patient of us all.

Hudson is switching between shooting daggers at Cove and James, going back and forth between the two. They ignore him completely, both calm and collected, waiting for Arlo to finish the data collection of the chip that was in my arm.

There are four big monitors above Arlo’s head, and the fifth one, which I’m assuming is the main one, is where he’s currently waiting for some data to process. He’s tapping his index finger against the wooden desk, impatience radiating off him in waves. No one, however, dares to utter a word.

Arlo is a very scary man when he’s angry.

His bright, white hair, and that diamond tooth gem might suggest otherwise, but at the moment, he’s hands down one of the most feared killers in the United States. A true ghost — no one ever sees him come or go, but the dead bodies in his wake always remain.

How Blair tamed that madman is beyond me. Then again, I’m not in a much better predicament, either. James’ hand is on my thigh, possessively squeezing it from time to time. The warmth of his touch soothes my aching nerves, but whenever Arlo starts typing again, my restlessness starts showing.

Noelle’s eyes flick to mine, and suddenly, she’s out of the trance she was in. She offers a small smile of reassurance from across the couch, but I know that all of this is gnawing at her. Worry is evident on her face, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

“Fucking finally,’’ Arlo sighs, leaning back into the leather chair.

As if on cue, the rest of us rise from our sitting positions, circling around him, staring at the main monitor. The screen goes black for a couple of moments, then it lights up, and at least a hundred different folders start popping up, one by one.

My eyes skim through the titles, though they’re moving way too fast for me to catch them all. James wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, his scent providing enough comfort for me to keep my impatience in check.

Arlo opens a few, and they’re just regular PDF files. He starts opening them, one by one, connecting them to the other monitors as well. Noelle and Hudson immediately take two, and Aria and Cove take the second, while James and I stare at the fourth one, with the main one left to Arlo and Blair.

I start reading internally, eyes gliding through the words.

My entire body freezes, because by the fifth sentence, I immediately understand what I’m reading.

These aren’t some silly, little files on corrupt politicians and dirty cops, and although they are mentioned by name, that’s not the main aspect.

Every single government secret of that time is right in front of us. I can’t hold in a gasp, my eyes widening as I continue to read, my palm flying to cover my mouth. James goes rigid, hand on my waist tightening.

“Holy shit,’’ Aria mumbles, staring at her own screen. “This is fucking madness.’’

“This is a bit outdated,’’ Hudson notes.

Noelle rolls her eyes. “Obviously, it’s been stuck in Rose’s arm for over a decade.’’

Hudson turns to look at me. “Do you not have any recollection of your parents putting the chip in your body?”

His words reach my ears, but it takes me a while to process them. I shake my head, tearing my gaze from the screen and looking at Hudson. “No. I was about four. They probably did it a while before their accident, since they knew they’d die. I was too young to remember it.’’

He nods. “Half of this is useless now,’’ he sighs.

“What do you mean?” Blair asks, plopping herself down on Arlo’s lap, to which he doesn’t protest. He wraps his arms around her stomach, pulling her closer to him, and burying his face in the back of her head.

They’re so cute it makes me want to vomit.

“This is all sensitive information,’’ he explains.

“But it’s old. No one is supposed to have this, and since it’s sensitive, I bet they already know this information was floating around.

Any sort of solid, concrete evidence, except for this, was destroyed over a decade ago.

No one would take his seriously if taken to court, especially since half of these people have long retired. ’’

“He has a point,’’ Noelle says, pulling out a small flask from her back pocket. Aria and I exchange worrying glances, but Noelle ignores them, taking a small sip. “Besides, right now, this isn’t our priority. Vivian is.’’

Arlo groans, then peeks over Blair’s shoulder. He rests his chin on her shoulder, reluctantly removing his arms from her waist and pulling the chair closer to the desk. He starts skimming through the folders until he lands on at least ten that are titled the same.

VIVIAN.

“Ready?”

For the first time tonight, Arlo looks at me.

He ignores the way the rest of them agree and doesn’t open the first folder until he gets a nod from me.

He’ll never know how much I appreciate that he’s asking for my input, given the history of our family.

They just do what they think is right for me, without my opinions.

He clicks on an image, and it takes up the whole screen. I suck in a deep breath, eyes glued to the woman in front of me. It’s a close-up, a candid shot, of a woman that looks a lot like me.

Her blonde hair is styled into a perfect French bob, her lips coated in a thin layer of red lipstick.

But it’s her eyes that completely have me frozen in the spot.

The exact same shade as mine, the exact same shape — yet there’s so much evil, arrogance, and narcissism.

The way her upper lip is slightly tugged into a small smirk, and the way she holds herself with an air of superiority is paired with that awful fur coat that can be seen in the image.

“Gotcha, bitch.’’ Arlo grins.

He uses his phone to try and dig out everything possible on Vivian now that he has a picture to put on the name. From what he’s told me, her name was wiped clean from any systems, which I wasn’t too shocked to hear. After all, it’s her M.O.

I take a peek at his phone, a small frown on my lips.

“What are you doing?”

“Cross-referencing her image to public surveillance. She had to have been seen somewhere, at some point, these past few months. From there, I’ll try to create a clear path and try to track down places she frequents.’’

“You really are a genius.’’

“Not really,’’ he snorts. “I just use the brain that I have, which, apparently, isn’t common sense these days.’’

Hudson whacks the back of his head, and Aria stifles a laugh, burying her face in Cove’s back to hide it, but the way her shoulders are moving from giggling proves that she’s not trying that hard.

“It will take a while, though,’’ Arlo murmurs, rubbing the back of his head. “As soon as I know something, I’ll let you know.’’

I nod. “Open other files on Vivian.’’

“I’ve no doubt your parents added those,’’ Arlo notes, opening some files. I step closer to him, and like a shadow, James follows me, standing as close to me as possible. He’s staring at the same screen as I am, and what I’m seeing is completely mind-blowing.

They’ve been in this business for decades. There’s no record of who the first victim was, or when it happened exactly, but there is a list. Just like the people James killed during the carnival, they’ve been doing it long before he joined, before he was born, even.

Killing the rich and taking all the money for themselves. Vivian’s worth, back then, was in the billions. I’ve never seen someone so rich, and the way she got the money makes my skin crawl, my body physically recoiling at the thought.

Granted, her victims were never good people. But from what I’m seeing, half were just flawed. They weren’t monsters, killers, or abusers. Just people with a shitty past and a shitty life trying to live while doing their best to redeem themselves.

They never got the chance because Vivian targeted them.

“These people don’t officially exist,’’ Arlo says. “She wiped them off the face of the Earth.’’

“But this is proof, no?” I turn to look at Hudson. “It could get her in prison.’’

He sighs. “We can try. But with her connections, she’ll get a good law team and probably get away with a slap on the wrist.’’

“Then let’s use Blair and Arlo’s tactic,’’ I suggest. “We go nuclear, we go public.’’

“That’s a terrible idea.’’

My eyes snap back to Arlo, and the moment I look back to the screen, I realize just why it wouldn’t work. He points to the two files that he hasn’t opened yet, but they’re there. They exist, and that’s enough.

De Santis.

Campbell.

Campbell is Noelle’s maiden name, and just like the De Santis’ family, hers is an empire built on assassination. If Vivian goes down, so does my family. No matter how much I want to see the bitch suffer, I won’t risk the people I love for the sake of revenge. I can’t risk them.

I groan.

“Okay, let’s call it a night, yeah?” Noelle suggests putting her damned flask away. “It’s almost midnight. We can discuss this in the morning. I’ll study through these files with Hudson. You kids, off to bed.’’

Arlo wants to protest, but a sharp glare from his mother shuts him up. Blair nods, and slowly gets off his lap, taking his hand and leading him out of the room.

“Rose, James,’’ Noelle turns with a soft smile. “There’s plenty of room; you two can stay the night.’’

I shake my head. “Thanks, but we’ll go home. We’ll be here first thing in the morning.’’

Hudson isn’t impressed that I’m not staying, but he bites his tongue. It’s laughable, really. Whenever he sulks, he reminds me of a petulant child and not this stone-cold, bloodthirsty assassin that shouldn’t be crossed.

James and I walk out, and once we’re in the cold air, I take in a deep breath. He unlocks the car, opens the door for me, and waits until I’m seated. He’s quick to buckle me in before walking to the driver’s side, sliding into the seat with ease, and roaring the engine to life.

The dark sky greets me when I look out the window, the soft radio music filling the otherwise tense silence. The highway is empty, with only two cars passing us during the first fifteen minutes of the ride.

“James,’’ I turn to look at him, and he inclines his head for me to continue, his hand squeezing my thigh. “How do you think this will end?”

“In death,’’ he responds, not missing a beat. “Not yours, though. Vivian will definitely die. Hudson’s pissed that she’s been playing with him for the two years I’ve been away, and now that the game has officially begun, he’s counting on her getting desperate enough to make a mistake.’’

“You’ve worked for her. Does she make mistakes?”

“No,’’ he clenches his jaw, eyes straight ahead. “Vivian doesn’t make mistakes. But that’s not relevant. Everyone’s bound to fuck up at some point. She’ll slip up sooner or later.’’

I don’t respond, turning my attention in front of me. My brows narrow a little, noticing a car driving toward us. It’s definitely in the wrong lane, and the lights are on too harshly. My eyes widen, and James notices this, too.

“James—’’

My sentence gets cut off midway, a scream piercing from the deepest parts of my throat.

Because the car is coming at us at a rapid speed, James has no time to react before it hits us.

Blood coats me, glass shattering all over me. My hands tremble, my entire body aches, and when I turn to look at James, I immediately freeze.

He’s unconscious, with a bullet wound in his chest.