Page 124 of Tethered

There’s the sound of a door being wrenched open, and then Marlowe calling Vee’s name. I scramble away from the window. Once I have enough distance, I sink onto an ornate bench and review what I heard.

A groan slips from my throat, and I shove my hands through my hair. The solution is clear now: I have to go through Gryphon before Marlowe and Vee will be safe. But no ideas are forthcoming as I replay Marlowe’s savage words.

‘I think you just want us to look like a family from the outside.’

My bench sits at an angle to the expansive lawn, running on a downslope and ending at a shimmering fence. The properties of it look familiar; somehow, Gryphon has surrounded his compound with the same material our skylight domes are made of.

Mae chooses now to slide onto the bench. My sigh is heavy. “I don’t have the energy to fight off your advances right now.”

She snorts. “That might sting, if only I were stupid enough to try again. Just wanted to check in, see how your grand romantic gesture was going.”

“That’s not why—” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Can I help?”

She sounded almost genuine. I shoot her a scrutinising look. “Why?”

“As a Black, Trans woman, do I need a reason to want to screw over a rich, cishet white man?”

It takes me an embarrassingly long time to parse that sentence.

“No,” I concede. “Fine.”

Mae suddenly grins. “Mostly though, my shift is over, I’ve already been paid, and I’m a little bored.”

“You are chaotic.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong.”

Despite myself, I laugh. She’s mad, and I’m surprised to find I like her. And maybe—as a flimsy idea starts to take form—I could use her help after all.

Maximus had warned me his kind get rowdy at parties, but I underestimated what I’d see tonight. When I head back in, it’s been at least an hour and the ballroom has halfway descended into debauchery. Amazingly, the string quartet still plays away in the background, even as people run around giggling, talking at the top of their lungs and pawing at each other in corners.

My tolerance for the drunk is exceptionally low on the best of days; I can’t get out of there fast enough. With my back to the staircase, I let my mind drift for a second. I hope Marlowe and Vee went somewhere quiet after that shitshow.

Mae appears at my side and makes a performance of leaning in and pressing her mouth to the shell of my ear.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” I grumble.

“Oh, please. Dominik’s in his library upstairs, West wing. Head up there now.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice; I’m ready for this night to be over. I let myself into the library, closing the door gently behind me. Gryphon’s nowhere to be seen as I scour the leather-bound books that pack out the dark bookshelves, the hand-carved fireplace and the deep, emerald chaise by the window. There’s no—

Gryphon appears from a doorway tucked between two shelves. He stops, his mouth tensing. At some point, he’d shrugged out of the suit jacket and the top button of his shirt is undone, tie dangling over his chest. He could be mistaken for a man with his guard down, except his eyes are like chips of jade. His fingers tighten around the tumbler of golden liquid in his hand, but he sways enough that I don’t think it’s his first, even second glass.

“Do I know you?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he grunts and makes his way to the chaise. With a sigh, he settles himself and takes a gulp of his drink. “This is my private study.”

When I imagined this conversation, I didn’t plan for a drunk Gryphon. I peel the tumbler from his hand and place it over the fireplace, a good distance for an inebriated man. He shoots me a sharp glare, and I send it right back.

“I need you to pay attention for a moment.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

I smile thinly. “You fired my crew yesterday.”