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He shrugs. “Kirill’s obsessed with her, and O’Sullivan controls her. Therefore, as long as she’s around, he controls the Red Compass. She’ll be going up that aisle, Frankie, one way or the other. There’s nothing in the world that can stop that wedding. O’Sullivan would rather burn London down then let anything fuck up that deal.”
Yes, there is…
Me.
CHAPTER 9
ADA
Ihaven’t danced in six days.
Haven’t wanted to, despite what I promised him. This numbness in my heart is poisoning my bones.
The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of Thursday—tomorrow—but even my faith in that is fading. Handsome strangers don’t offer salvation without strings attached. Only time will tell if my last hope is an unkind liar.
The next day, I’m waiting in the lobby for Seamus—sitting on the white wooden bench next to the coat stand. My hands in my lap. Feet together. Soul scraping the floor. There’s a tattered library copy of Alexandre Dumas’sThe Count of Monte Cristoresting on my knees. It used to be my favourite book, a story about justice and revenge, of wrongful imprisonment and redemption.
Now, it just makes me sad.
The lead character, Edmond Dantès, might have escaped from his prison, but there’s little chance of me escaping from mine.
Or my half-brother.
He’s still alive. I hear him screaming at night as they torture him, and it tears me apart. O’Sullivan’s new favourite game is to drip feed me the details over the dinner table.I’ve learned he’s called Danny. Danny Razor. He’s nineteen years old.Two years older than me.They’ve removed his bullet and stitched him up without pain medication, but he has two missing fingers now to add to all his other scars.
I want to save him.But how can I when I can’t even save myself?
The house is unusually quiet today. O’Sullivan’s gone to Hackney to establish his authority over The Firm’s former business interests now that the Razor Dynasty is over.
My dynasty.
My legacy.
Gone, before I even knew it existed.
“You ready?” Seamus appears in the doorway to the kitchen, chewing gum like it’s an insult.
I hate him, and the feeling is mutual. He’s always telling O’Sullivan lies about me—that I’m difficult, or that I’ve talked back to him somehow. Last week, I’d made up my mind not to visit the library after one final trip because it wasn’t worth the beatings. And then Frankie…
Frankie—
“You coming?” snaps Seamus, losing his patience.
Rising to my feet, I go to follow him out to the car. The moment I cross the threshold, a bitter breeze is whipping my loose hair around my face. I close my eyes for a beat and drink it in. People say that spring and autumn are the seasons of change, but they forgot about winter. Winter takes no prisoners. It strips you to the bone. It reveals raw truths about yourself that have the power to make everything different.
What truths will it reveal about me today?
As we enter the library, I peel off to the left—heading straight for the aisle where I saw him last—my stomach churning with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Will he be here?
Will he keep his promise?
“Ten minutes,” I hear Seamus say loudly, not giving a damn about library etiquette and low voices. “You’ve got all the time it takes for me to chain a couple of smokes.”
My heart is in my mouth as I turn into the aisle.
It’s empty.
