Page 42 of These Shattered Memories

I wake up with the sun streaming into the bedroom. The curtains are still open, looking out onto the manicured back garden and the pool in the distance. It makes a nice picture but the dark grey clouds above loom menacingly, like some sort of bad omen for what’s to come.

Next to me, Alex stirs, and just like that, my anxiety dissipates and a sense of calm washes over me.

Now that I have him, I can’t imagine letting him stand anywhere else other than my side.

I feel a possessiveness, maybe even obsessiveness I’ve never felt for anyone else.

I’ve never believed in soulmates, but maybe this is as close as it gets, two people who can’t stay away from each other even if there is an entire clan and police department between them.

He’s different. He has always been.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

He moans, burrowing further into my bare chest. “ No ,” he cries.

I chuckle quietly. “I have to get up.”

“No, you don’t. Five more minutes.” His arms reach out to clutch me tightly, making sure I can’t move.

I run the back of my hand against his cheek, my heart in my throat. Eventually, Haze will fade away, but I’m determined to make sure he stays right beside me and as more than just my boyfriend.

Boyfriend feels too loose a term for what this is.

This is worship.

I tilt my head, watching his lips twitch. If I asked him to marry, would that make him my Right Eye? Would we have a lavish wedding with hundreds of people?

I let myself dwell on the fantasy of whisking him away to some island and not allowing anyone to look at him ever again. He’d kill me, of course, but that’s a minor detail.

I plant a light kiss on his cheek. “Okay,” I tell him finally, relaxing in his tight hold. “Five minutes.”

He smiles; eyes still shut. My eyes follow and I don’t open them until noon.

***

Trist and Daniel’s killer does not appear in any of the CCTV footage surrounding his apartment building.

They were careful, probably canvased the area before but still, killing Daniel and Trist was a rash move.

That’s good. Panic leads to sloppy mistakes and eventually, they are going to slip up and I’ll be right there to catch them.

I’m sitting in my office and Xander is here again, giving me a rundown of what his men have found out about Trist’s death and The Scarlet Ravens’ reaction.

Right now, Moreau doesn’t suspect The Snake, which means Avni is still missing and hasn’t told him the truth yet.

I can’t help but think the universe or whoever is in charge is giving us too much leeway. Shit should have blown up by now.

My phone buzzes on my desk and Hayden’s face appears. “Please tell me you have good news?” I answer.

“Are you with Xan?” His voice is strained, like he can’t breathe.

I meet Alex’s eyes, who is standing next to Xander. “And Alex,” I tell him. “What’s going on?”

He’s quiet for a moment that seems to stretch on for minutes. “It’s Mum,” he finally says. “She’s dead.”

For a moment, I forget to breathe. The words hang around me, weightless and meaningless. My hand tightens around the phone until I’m sure I’ll break it. Xander straightens, his usually cool expression hardening into something unreadable.

I wait for the blow, the inevitable to slice through me, and I wait some more. It seems impossible, too ridiculous to even consider.

The Head of The Snake is dead.

My mother’s dead.

***

I walk through my parents’ house, the house I grew up in and all I feel is— nothing .

Xander walks in behind me, and he hasn’t said a word since we left the house.

His face is like stone, hard and unmoving, and I fight the urge to ask him what he’s thinking.

I want to know if he feels the same way I do.

Completely empty.

Our mother is gone, and I can’t find the emotion I know I should be feeling. There is no grief, anger, or sadness and somehow the lack of it makes me sick.

Memories of our childhood flash before my eyes. I see her instructing men to show us how to shoot. I see her telling us to study, to be the sharpest in our classes, to never back down. I see so many moments, but none of them make me feel anything.

When I step into the formal parlour, a few guards are standing around, armed and stone-faced, ready to leap at any trouble. When they spot us, some of them bow their heads or avert their eyes, unsure of what to say.

Glad I’m not the only one.

The house feels colder, the light emanating from the chandelier above too bright, reflecting off every polished surface of the lounge.

“Rowan, you’re here,” my father’s voice comes from behind us.

I turn to find him at the threshold, his face flushed, eyes glazed over with moisture. It’s strange to see him as anything other than the sleek and put-together man I’ve come to know.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, coming over to hug me first. He holds me closely, his hand patting my back. I’m too surprised to return the gesture.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he continues in a hoarse voice, pulling Xander in. My brother doesn’t hug him back either. He stands stiff like a rod as my father continues to sob into his shoulder.

“What happened?” I ask.

“A car accident,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “The brakes—they, um—they failed. On the highway. She was on her way home with the driver. They didn’t make it. I—”

My stomach twists as my father continues to stutter out the details. Rain. Slippery tar. Car flipped. It all seems so below my mother. A woman who probably murdered her siblings for power dying because her brakes failed. It’s just so mundane.

“They said she died on the spot. She didn’t suffer,” he finishes.

I swallow, still trying to reach for something—a memory— anything to remind me of her tenderness, something I can hold onto and feel, but there is just this endless nothingness.

I don’t know whether I should cry or laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

All I ever wanted was to be like her and yet, I can’t shed a single tear over her death.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“The hospital,” Hayden says, appearing behind him. “I’ve just come from there.”

Unlike my father, Hayden is still the picture of grace. For a moment, I’m caught by how much he looks like her and how, out of all of us, he is least like her. Despite his sharpness, a shadow rests over his eyes, like he’s been crying but has wiped all evidence of it.

“What now?” Xander asks, his voice quiet.

We all look at him and his eyes are bloodshot, glazed over like he, too, is about to cry. I was never curious about Xander’s relationship with our mother. Growing up, he mostly expressed his disdain for both of our parents, but I also know she was particularly hard on him. They both were.

“This will hit the press in a few hours. Soon everyone will know that the Head of The Snake is dead,” I say.

“The Snake cannot exist without its Head,” Hayden says levelly. “The protocol is a new Head is picked as soon as another dies.”

Those are the rules. Either The Head of The Snake names their successor, or The Keepers choose if they cannot.

It hits me.

My mother never named her successor. She never named me . My legs tremor, threatening to give in. If I want this, The Keepers will have to vote for me in a Choosing Ceremony performed at midnight.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

I never thought it would come this soon. My mother became the youngest Head of The Snake at twenty-seven and I could equal her record.

“You can’t possibly be talking about this now,” my father hisses through his teeth. “Your mother is dead .”

“We are already vulnerable,” I say. “If we wait, we only look weaker and we all know we can’t afford that right now.”

I give my brothers a pointed look. They know as well as I do that we can’t wait.

Our father looks between us, jaw slack, eyes wide. I’m not sure why he’s surprised. Both him and my mother made us this way. “No.” He shakes his head violently. “I won’t have it.”

“A Raven was allegedly killed by one of our men a few nights ago. When Moreau finds out, he’ll cross the river and declare war. If he does that— when he does that—we need to have a Head,” Xander says.

My father still looks hesitant, but this is beyond him. He knows we’re right.

He meets my eyes, and it’s like he’s trying to tell me something but can’t find the words. Finally, he nods, his bottom lip trembling. “If you think that’s best.”

“I’ll call the meeting,” Hayden says, turning to me. A hint of a smile breaks out on his lips. “Which means you will be the new Head of The Snake, Rowan.”

Three pairs of eyes fall on me as Hayden’s words sink in.

The title is closer than it’s ever been.

It’s everything I’ve worked for, hours of studying The Snake, making alliances, collecting secrets.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and here it is, almost in my hands.

And yet, I realise, for the first time, there is something else that feels more important than becoming The Head of The Snake.

Alex .

And there is no one I want more than him.

“Excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” I pull my phone out and walk down a quiet passageway, away from the watchful eyes of the guards.

Alex answers on the first ring, like he’s been waiting for me to call. “Hey,” he says, breathless. “Are you okay?”

I feel my shoulders drop for the first time since we were in bed this morning. Somehow, it feels like a lifetime ago.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel. I don’t think I’m sad. I don’t think I feel anything but urgency.”

He’s quiet for a second and I worry he might find that callous, like maybe I’m a monster who doesn’t deserve someone as good as he is.

“That makes sense,” he says. “She taught you to care about The Snake, not her. You can’t feel what you don’t know.”