Page 48

Apparently, I wouldn't have to worry about breaking my neck because Gunnar Blackwood couldn't find a laundry hamper. Another point in his favor. Looks like he'd been raised well. At this rate, I was going to have to let half the damned family survive.

I made my way into the closet and ran my fingers over the clothing hanging on my side. I knew each outfit by touch. Silk. Wool. Cashmere. Cotton. Every seam, button, and embellishment gave me the information I needed.

Everything was designer. Everything made a statement. My husband appeared to consider sweatpants formalwear.

The thought was absurd. Rosalind Lobo in leisurewear. But I wasn't Rosalind Lobo anymore. I was a Blackwood.

Still, the thought of polyester had my nose wrinkling.

No. Absolutely not. I had spent my entire life ensuring no one ever saw me as anything other than what I wanted them to see.

Helpless. Naïve. Decorative.

A blind little princess sitting quietly beside her mother while men discussed business in front of her because surely Rosalind wasn't listening. Surely Rosalind didn't understand. Surely Rosalind couldn't possibly be a threat.

Being underestimated was hard fucking work. Every stumble had to look natural. Every turn of my head had to be slightly imprecise. I couldn't react too quickly when someone entered a room. Couldn't reach directly for something I shouldn't be able to see. Couldn't read anything unless I was alone and in my wolf form.

All while listening. Remembering. Planning. Plotting the destruction of every person stupid enough to believe I was useless. Sweatpants didn't really fit the image.

I dressed and left the bedroom. I didn't count the steps. By now my feet simply knew. The Blackwood house had become familiar.

I stepped into the kitchen and breathed in. Jasmine reached me first. Mei Ling. Honeysuckle bloomed beside it, lighter and sweeter. Astrid. The crisp bite of apples told me Addie was here, while warm vanilla placed Nell somewhere nearby.

Their scents mingled with whatever was simmering on the stove, creating a confusing bouquet of flowers, fruit, sweetness, and spices.

"Good morning," I said.

Four voices answered from four different places in the room. Perfect. Now I knew exactly where everyone was.

"Hey, Rose," Astrid called out.

"Salind," I corrected.

She barked out a laugh. "Like Topher. You know, that actor Topher Grace."

I shook my head.

"People kept calling him Chris."

I still had no idea what she meant.

"Come over, Rosalind," Mei Ling called. "You can help with the meal."

"I don't cook."

Addie snorted. "Neither do half the people in this room."

"I can cook," Nell said.

"You can follow instructions," Mei Ling corrected.

"That's cooking."

"That's obedience."

"Something none of the women in this family excel at," Addie said.

"Being vision impaired, I don't think I should be let anywhere near an open flame." I remained near the doorway. I had never even been in the kitchen back at my mother's house.