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My eyes scanned the title. “Deed to property Forty-Seven Hundred.”
Arthur came from behind me, grinning broadly. “It’s yours, Buttercup.”
“Mine? What’s mine?”
My father passed me a pen, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re my only child. I own Dagger Rose outright. The land, the holdings. There’s acres of land that will only keep growing in profit the more the world expands. I want you to have it.”
I shook my head, the piece of paper trembling in my hands. “But … I don’t want it. It’s yours.”
My father smiled, but his eyes were guarded. “Sometimes, Buttercup, it’s best to prepare for the worst when everything is at its best. You’re young, but it doesn’t matter if I give you this now or when you’re eighteen or twenty-five. It doesn’t change the fact that I want you to have it.”
Taking my wrist, he guided the pen over the piece of paper. “You’re old enough to know the value of what I’m giving you. Sign it, sweetheart. Let me know that I’ve given you a present that will provide for you until you’re old like me.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Dagger Rose … it’s mine.”
Arthur nodded. “Every shrub, tree, and piece of dirt is yours.”
“But—”
Arthur held up his hand. “You want to know how my father was still living there with the Club? After destroying your family?”
I nodded, unable to comprehend such an asset or that I’d forgotten something so life-changing.
And we burned it to the ground!
Had that been his plan all along? Was that why he gave me the torch—because it was my land to destroy?
My mouth hung open.
“Because there was a clause. The land and buildings all belong to you, but as long as Dagger Rose remained, it was a commune for all to enjoy.”
His lips pulled back into a cold, vindictive smile. “However, the land has just been vacated and the remnants of such a history demolished. They have no more claims. It’s yours to sell if you wish—I know big developers are looking for parcels of land to build housing. You could sell it at a fortune, Cleo. Or keep it and do what you want.”
I sat dumbfounded. I wanted to ask so many questions, but Grasshopper jumped in. “Did Rubix know? That the moment he left he’d be homeless?”
Arthur laughed. “Probably not. That’s what makes this sweet as well as frustrating. He ran like a fucking pussy—thinking he could outsmart me and prepare for his next attack. But in reality, he just gave me a winning hand. He’s out in the open at the mercy of other Clubs. He thinks they’re in on his schemes. I admit I underestimated him, but soon … they’ll all be exterminated.”
The ghost of the deed tickled my fingers as I remembered my father folding and sending the contract to his lawyer the moment I’d finished signing. How awful was it to think only a year later his inheritance would be forgotten and his life stolen?
We could’ve gone home. Once all of this is over, we could’ve taken back the compound. But now we couldn’t because it was rubble.
I didn’t know how I felt about that. The more I thought about it, the more I figured I should be angry that Arthur hadn’t told me it was mine before we burned it to a crisp. Instead, a strange relief settled over me, almost as if by burning it we’d erased the atrocities done to my parents—purging it from Rubix.
Everything was gone now.
Fresh for a new beginning.
“One less thing to worry about, then,” Matchsticks said.
Melanie typed something on her phone. “I’ll go to the records office. Get a copy of the deed and add it to our acquisitions and future developments.”
My heart suddenly swooped. “It won’t be valid anymore.”
All eyes turned on me. In one second, I learned I’d inherited acres of prime property. And in another, lost it all over again.
“Fuck, you’re right,” Arthur muttered.
Grasshopper ran his hand over his face. “You’re dead.”
“What—” Molly stopped herself, nodding with understanding. “You were taken into state care.”
“A death certificate was issued,” Arthur said. “I saw it with my own eyes.”
Mo slapped his hands onto the table. “Add to the to-do list. Hire a fucking resurrectionist.”
Chuckles broke the tension.
I smiled tentatively. Fear billowed like smoke in my lungs. Being dead on paper had protected me. Being Sarah Jones had been a safety net. Not only had I stepped into harm’s way but now I also faced endless questions and debriefing, and whatever else the FBI would require closing my case. Not to mention the reprimand for leaving without a word.
“We’ll deal with that later.” Clapping his hands, Arthur changed the subject. “Did you call him?” His green eyes swooped to Grasshopper. “Arrange the next meeting?”
“Sure did. Two nights from now. His place. All arranged.”
Arthur nodded, pointing at Matchsticks to make a note of whatever had just unfolded.
I sat there still reeling about Dagger Rose but also just as lost. However, beneath my confusion was pride—a lot of pride for everything Arthur had accomplished.
Glancing at Mo, Arthur ran a hand through his dark hair. “The interviews arranged? Like I asked?”
Mo crossed his arms, reclining in his chair. “All done, Prez. Ready and waiting for a few days from now.”
