Enne imagined Vianca Augustine must’ve hated to cry.
After all, Vianca was a woman. She’d been tossed aside and ignored her entire life because of it. And she despised herself for it. Enne didn’t pretend to know her full story, or the circumstances around her family and her husband’s death, and how it must’ve felt to live the life of a mother, a wife, a crime boss, an activist, and a monster.
But she wouldneverdisregard that last title.
Monster.
The world had once led Enne to believe that to cry—to beweak—was to be a woman. Vianca certainly still believed that. And maybe that was why Vianca had always surrounded herself with men, why she sought the favor of political parties ruled by men, why—until now—Levi could always fight against her and she’d still welcome him back with fondness.
Maybe she had turned herself into a monster because the only other option was to be a woman.
Enne swallowed down her own sob. “People betray you because you don’t love them. You own them. And you revel in it.”
Vianca’s face twisted into something ugly, something truly monstrous. “You will stay here tonight. You won’t breathe a word of this conversation to anyone. You will pretend like nothing has happened.” Then the donna smiled so brightly it reached her eyes. “Tomorrow, you will break his heart. And then you will die.”
J
“A buddy of mine used to go around Olde Town robbing graves. Not aclosebuddy. Just someone I knew, all right? But he told me this story. He opened up a coffin—it belonged to a woman, died only a few months before. He wanted to steal jewelry. But he foundtwobodies inside.
“That’s not even the spooky part. The spooky part is that both of the women had the same face. Sameexactface.
“And the woman whose grave it was?
She didn’t have a twin sister.”
—A legend of the North Side
LEVI
The Irons filled every seat in the Catacombs, dressed in the swankiest clothes they’d managed to steal. Politicians, celebrities, lobbyists, and paparazzi would fill the streets outside St. Morse tonight, and in order to crash a white-tie affair, the Irons would need to blend into the crowds. However, there was something definitively not South Sider about their outfits: heels measured an inch too high, hair combed a bit too slick, and pockets and purses bulged with the unmistakable shapes of guns.
Beside him, Jac fiddled with an unlit cigarette. “Have you heard from her yet?”
Fear blossomed in Levi’s stomach. “No.”
Last night, Lola had called to tell him that Enne hadn’t returned to the finishing school before curfew. Levi had struggled to focus on his plan while he spent hours with his ear to the radio, anxious for news about whether she’d somehow been apprehended. She’d probably found somewhere to wait out the night, or so Tock had tried to assure him. But morning had arrived and, still, there’d been no call.
“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Jac said nervously. He reached for his Creed, his classic tell.
“Liar,” Levi snapped. Even after what Enne had done, he still cared. Probably too much.
Tock approached their booth wearing a glittering silver dress. She’d been speaking with Narinder upstairs, who—unsurprisingly, given his hatred of gangsters—had refused to join them.
“Looking sharp, boys,” Tock said, even though Levi was fairly certain he looked like muck. “All of the Irons are here,” she added, her eyes falling on Jac. “Even the prodigal second.”
Jac examined the clusters of Irons sitting around the club. “I haven’t seen the Irons looking this good in a long time.”
Levi might’ve felt nauseous with nerves, but he still gave his friend an appreciative smile. Only four months ago, the Irons had been half-starved, squatting across abandoned places in Olde Town, scrounging for volts while Levi fed their earnings into Vianca’s investment scheme. He wasn’t sure any amount of amends would make up for what he did to Chez Phillips and the rest of his gang, but it felt good to know that, no matter what happened today, he’d done this much right.
The front doors to the Catacombs opened, and several new faces filtered inside. Levi recognized a few of them as Spirits. He sighed with relief...until he noticed that Enne wasn’t among them.
Lola broke away from the group and hurried over. She wore a full tux, red lipstick, and a nervous knot between her brows. “I thought Enne would be with you,” she hissed.
“We thought she’d be withyou.” Levi stood up, his heart racing. “We need to look for her.”
“Where?” Lola snapped. “She could be anywhere.” Her voice cracked, and Levi couldn’t tell if she was scolding him or volunteering to join him.
Tock pushed herself between them and squeezed both their shoulders. “Listen. She already knows her role today at St. Morse. She’s deadlier than you—” she looked at Lola “—and smarter thanyou.” She looked at Levi. “We should trust her.”
