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I hardly taste the dinner, which is a shame because I know what we laid out on it, so it should be fucking fantastic.

I’m too focused on Jaxon’s appearance, and disappearance, to pay attention to what I’m eating.

Or to respond to the conversation that flows around me.

I’m too busy thinking. Why was Jaxon here?

If it was to taunt Kez, he didn’t stick around long enough to get in more than one good shot.

If it was just to see if we survived the hit, he could have sent a patsy.

I can’t see any reason for him to risk coming himself.

Unless he doesn’t think I’m a threat. But he beat a pretty fucking hasty retreat when I bared my teeth.

It doesn’t make sense.

Nor does his denial that he’s behind the tag on Kez’s head. If he came to taunt her, why deny it? And if he’s not behind it, who the fuck is?

And then there’s the thought that eats at me as I spoon up the fancy dessert, clyros-in-crystal, that I don’t taste. Jaxon’s here, now, in Hemos. He’s not hiding in the E.C. He hasn’t gone to ground in some NoBo lair. He’s here, in my city. Right now .

I could hunt him down tonight.

I put down my spoon several times while that thought eats at me.

Each time, I look at Kez and remember that hunting Jaxon now means leaving my kitten alone, undefended.

Each time, I pick up my spoon again. I’m not at my best, and she’s not safe.

Ten years ago, I would have gone after him anyway.

Those years have taught me hard lessons about patience and loss.

Mouse died while I was less than a quarter-klick away.

A minute at a hard run. A minute that kept me from seeing what they were doing to her, from hearing her screams. I’ll never be that minute away from Kez.

I don’t pretend to pay attention while Chiara makes the presentation to the Roysten team. I rise when everyone else rises. Clap when they clap. I only snap back to attention when Myhre puts her hand on my arm and says, “I’ll take that dance now.”

I nod. Glance at Kez to make sure she knows where I’m going.

She nods back. She’s still eating her dessert, while a Tech Xec on her far side tells her a story too boring for me to follow.

I’m glad she’s eating. She’s not running at the moment, so she doesn’t need the calories the way she usually would, but it wouldn’t hurt her to put on a kilo or two.

Maybe it’s the black genSkin she’s wearing that’s making her eyes and cheeks look so hollow, but I don’t think so.

Myhre puts her arm through mine as we cross the atrium to the dancefloor. There are a few people dancing, more filtering onto the floor now that dinner and the presentation are over. There’s a live band playing slow, bland, corporate music. Definitely not Flaming Pink Flamingos.

“I thought you would have gotten over it by now,” Myhre says, clicking up the stairs beside me on her high heels.

“Over what?”

“You said you were better.”

“I am better.” I know where she’s going with this and decide to beat her to the punch. “I’m not pissed at you because I’m groggy or hurtin’ or anythin’ else. I’m pissed at you ‘cause you’re pissing me off. ”

She stiffens. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Try that again,” I growl. I lead her two steps onto the dance floor. Turn her into my arms. I hope she doesn’t expect anything fancy. Dancing really ain’t my thing.

She puts one hand on my shoulder. The other on my waist. Looks up at me steadily. “I still haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You were fucking around when Kez was in danger. You froze Kimpler’s accounts without authorization?—”

“I wasn’t aware I needed authorization.”

“Now you know.”

We dance in silence for a minute. Myhre angles her face away from me, so I’m looking at the pale, straight line of her scalp. I know I’ve hurt her feelings before she says a word. “Do I report to you now? Or Kezra?”

“Both. Next time you decide to settle a score, you ask one of us first.”

She’s rigid in my arms. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ree. Why’d you do it?”

“Freeze Kimpler’s accounts? So Payton couldn’t keep funneling credits to the people trying to kill you?—”

“Payton’s not funding Jaxon.”

“And you know that, how? Because she told you so? Because she batted her eyes at you and told you she was innocent? You told me to follow the money, and I did. It led straight to her. Credits don’t lie. Not like people do.”

I shift the hand I’ve got cupping her upper back to the nape of her neck. Cup that mass of soft, warm hair and tilt her head so she has to look at me. “Whaddo you got against Payton?”

Her eyes flicker. “Nothing.”

“Try again.”

Her jaw clenches. Throat works. “Kimpler was a traitor. He feigned love for Kison, friendship for Sokun. He lied with every breath. He had Sokun killed . ”

Her breath hitches and it finally clicks. Myhre may have worshipped the Old Man, but she loved his son.

Myhre clears her throat and continues. “Payton is Kimpler’s clone. She is exactly like him.”

“She’s been his slave, Ree. Her whole life. She did whatever he told her to. Fucked who he told her to. Sent creds wherever he said to send them. She wasn’t making her own decisions?—”

“And you’re telling me that she is now?” Myhre bares her teeth. “His choices are her choices. That’s what it means to be a clone.”

I caress the nape of her neck. Pull her head down to my shoulder. She won’t ever believe that Payton has free will. She won’t ever forgive Payton. And I haven’t been treating Myhre the way I should. Like a widow.

“Sokun know how you felt?”

She freezes and I propel her through the next few steps. Finally, she whispers, “Yes.”

“Did the Old Man?”

She hisses through her teeth at the disrespectful name. Shakes her head. “Kison would not have approved. Sokun’s contract was arranged while he was a child. Kison believed such arrangements could lead to great affection ... as his had. He demanded his children live up to his example.”

“Sokun love his fiancée?”

“No.”

“He love you?”

She trembles, controls it so hard she’s like ceramsteel in my arms. “Please, don’t ask me that.”

He did. What man wouldn’t love this smart, beautiful woman when she broke every rule to give him her heart? “I’m sorry, Ree.” I turn my hold into a hug.

“H-how did you guess?”

“Dunnow.” And I don’t. Sometimes shit just clicks into place. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I understand better now. You can stop doing shit behind my back, and I can stop being pissed at you. Deal?”

She nods against my shoulder. Wraps her arms around my neck. We dance that way for three slow songs. While her tears soak cold through my shirt into my skin. While I hold her and let her cry the tears she hasn’t let herself cry for the man she lost.