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“Mutually assured destruction.”
“Exactly.” She flicked my nose—the condescending ass.
I scanned the names and noted one thing in particular. Calais, Dumont, and O’Rourke were nowhere on it. They weren’t even floaters in a corner by themselves.
The Rogues truly do stand apart from this world.
“But why are you showing me this?”
“So that you understand what you did when you went crying to Victor about Owen, Levi, Darren, Caleb, Silas, and Emmett.” She pointed to each of their last names on the scroll—some farther up and down toward the bottom of the tree, but none of them less than three tiers down from the Wilsons.
My eyes hardened. Saylor did fucking know about that night.
“See all these lines between the families?” she asked, unaware of my darkening mood. “A business deal between the Maddens and the Von Housens. A marriage arrangement between the oldest Brown and a Morgan. The higher position the Thashers achieved five years ago due to Owen’s mother, Karen, opening and funding the research clinic that created the vaccine. All of that,” she cried, getting in my face. “Gone. Because of you.”
I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t. Victor did. Or I should say, his parents did at his request. They didn’t share the details, but they told everyone that Owen and the others committed a terrible insult against their son’s fiancée and anyone who refused to cut ties with them and their families, should consider themselves an enemy of the Wilsons.”
My lips parted, and nothing came out.
“Since it was done after your official engagement announcement, they played the card that you’re basically part of the family, and a strike against you is a strike against them.” She flung out her hand. “You just fucked up dozens of peoples’ lives, businesses, and futures. Members of their family who don’t know who the hell you are or care, taken down because a couple of idiots went too far teaching a Dreg a lesson.
“This is partly my fault,” she said, pacing the length of the table. “When I told the Royals you were fair game, I didn’t believe this could happen. Victor’s just a freshman. Eighteen-year-old jock with his head buried between a girl’s legs every other night. If he’s marrying you this soon, it’s because you’re pregnant.”
“Hold on,” I said, throwing my hands up. “You thought I was pregnant and you still had your friends teach me a lesson? Iris kicked me in the stomach.”
Saylor rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Like it wouldn’t have done Victor a favor if you miscarried.”
I shook with disgust, grip strangling my purse strap. Then more than ever I wished the guard hadn’t found my gear. With perfect, grim clarity I saw Saylor seizing on the floor until she pissed herself... and that was to start.
“Anyway, I figured his parents were covering for an embarrassing mistake, and didn’t give a shit about you. Definitely wouldn’t care if someone handled the problem and got rid of you. But then my folks tried to intervene. Spoke to them about the impact marrying Victor to a Dreg would have and reminded them there were other ways to deal with knocked-up trash.
“It didn’t go well. His folks got pissed, said how dare they imply his son was that irresponsible, and who they welcomed into their family was no one’s business,” she said. “I knew something wasn’t right after they told me what happened, so I tried to head off disaster by impressing upon you why you should stay away from Victor. It wasn’t soon enough to stop what they did to the Maddens, Johnsons, Browns, Joneses, or the Thompkins family, but from here on, you won’t do any more damage.”
I flicked from her, to the scroll, and back to her—brow climbing my forehead. “I won’t do any more damage? Why is that, Saylor? Because I’m filled with remorse for the poor Thashers and Maddens who spawned the violent creeps who assaulted me? The same guys who may have lost a few lines on a piece of paper, but are still as rich, entitled, and privileged as the day before. That’s the string you want to pull?” I laughed out loud. “Wow, you’ve been in this warped, Regalia bubble for too long. You really think this little game of status matters to anyone else?”
Saylor waited me out, fingers drumming on the table. “No, Sinclair,” she said, slow and mocking. “I’m not telling you to stop for them, I’m saying it for you. I brought you here to tell you the truth, so here it is: your sister wasn’t targeted because she was a Dreg or because she turned Owen down.
“Winter was targeted because she became a problem to the system, and had to go.”
Blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. “What did you say?”
“If she’d gone on about her little Dreggy life and stayed out of people’s business, none of this would’ve happened. Does this little game of status matter to anyone? Yes, idiot. In this warped Regalia bubble, it matters to everyone and maybe if Winter realized that, she would’ve listened the first, second, and fifth time she was warned to get the fuck out of our town.”
