Page 150 of Royal Bargain

42

LIAM

The room still smells like blood and gunpowder.

Ana’s resting on the worn sofa, foot bandaged, skin pale but calm. Her fingers keep twitching like she’s still in fight-or-flight, but she’s trying to pretend she isn’t. Anatoly’s sitting in a chair nearby, head bowed, eyes haunted.

I stand in the corner, arms crossed, trying to process what the hell just came out of his mouth.

Miranda Voss is his stepsister.

All those little red threads in my mind suddenly knot together. The Harborview District. The push to “go legit”. The security contracts. Burns. The sudden way she inserted herself into our lives like she belonged there—because she did.

“She’s been in our orbit for months,” I murmur aloud. “She helped Ana. She helped Darcy. Clary. Even Rory. She introduced him to Burns.”

Anatoly looks up. “She’s been planning this for longer than any of us realized.”

Ana’s voice is quiet. “But why Burns? Why not take control herself? Why help him?”

My stomach twists. I don’t like the answer forming in my head.

I step out into the hall and pull out my phone.

I call him.

Burns picks up on the second ring, sounding calm. Too calm.

“Didn’t expect a call from you tonight, Liam. Everything alright?”

“No,” I say. “I know you’re working with her.”

A pause.

“Her who?” he asks, faux-innocent.

“Miranda,” I snap. “Miranda fucking Voss. Or whatever her real name is. Don’t lie to me.”

Another pause. Then a chuckle.

“Took you long enough.”

I go still. My spine locks up. “You knew. This whole time.”

“Of course I did,” he says easily. “Miranda has ambition. So do I. That’s why we work well together.”

“She’s using you,” I say flatly. “You think you’re partners? She’s just setting the board. You’re another pawn.”

“Maybe,” he allows. “But pawns can become queens if they play it right.”

There’s something off in his tone—so smug, so convinced he’s untouchable. It makes me want to put my fist through a wall.

I go still.

He wants to be a pawn. He thinks that makes him smart. That if he gets close enough to Miranda, she’ll crown him king next.

“She’s been helping me since the start,” Burns goes on, calm as you please. “Setting up the dominoes. Making the right introductions. Like you, for instance. Like your brother.”

“You son of a?—”