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And he thinks he can win my support?
Death is too good for him. I’m going to claw his eyes out. I’m going to cut off his dick and make him eat it.
“You still don’t know where he is.” We need to fix this. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder. I’m sick of letting the locked box of my memories control my life. I am my father’s daughter, and Brutus will pay.
“I’m working on it. I’m checking all his known boltholes, all his associates and business partners. I can only use so many resources, or Brutus’ loyal soldiers will get suspicious. As it is, they can’t see why I’d bother with a security job in Harrington Hills that keeps me away at all hours. They think I should give your contract to them and focus on the club. I’m only getting away with it because Brutus isn’t here.”
“I want to help. I’m sick of being cooped up in here.” I stroke Queen Boudica’s fur.
“You help by keeping those boys of yours under control. You help by bringing back Captain America so we can figure out what the hell Nero is up to. You help by convincing everyone around you that you’re Mackenzie Malloy.”
I don’t like the way he dismisses me. Daddy never dismissed me. He knew I’d make an amazing Imperator. It’s ridiculous that Antony can’t seem to remember the training I’ve had, but I won’t fight him on it tonight.
I will, however, find out what’s really going on at the Colosseum. He’s not telling me the full truth, and that’s unacceptable. Claudia August won’t be made a fool of, especially not by her own flesh and blood.
Claudia
“Can you try to not be so…” Noah gestures in Gabriel’s general Gabrielness, “…you.”
He has a point. Noah’s wearing boxing shorts, combat boots, and a black hoodie pulled over his hair. A black mask hangs around his neck, ready to be pulled on as we approach our destination. I’m wearing one of Ainsley Malloy’s slutty designer dresses in a shade of ice blue that perfectly matches my eyes, a white feather boa around my shoulders, and a black wig and heavy makeup that will ensure no one recognizes Mackenzie Malloy in the crowd. But Gabriel… Gabriel is decked out in about twenty heavy gold chains and a backward baseball cap. He looks utterly ridiculous and it’s not exactly an outfit designed to blend in where we’re going.
“Claws, he’s mocking me. Up with this I will not put. Would it be better if I pretended to be you?” Gabriel hunches his shoulders forward and grunts in a deep voice. “I’m Noah. I’m so serious. I’m the living embodiment of Elon Musk’s tunnel project – endlessly boring.”
“Gabriel.” Noah looks tired.
Gabriel jangles his gold chains. “I have no neck and my dick is an airplane filled with accountants.”
“A… what?”
“A Boring 747.”
I hit Gabe on the shoulder. I crack a smile, but inside I’m a bundle of nerves. I know it’s a bad idea sneaking out to the club in the first place. But I have to find out the truth about Antony with my own eyes. Which means I have to take Noah with me, since he can get us in, and Gabriel isn’t going to let us go without him. So now I have an entourage that seems determined to be as obvious as possible.
Antony left for the club some hours ago. Tiberius is on guard duty at Malloy Manor tonight. I’d love to tell him the truth, but I think if things went to the wire he’d be loyal to Antony instead of me. Instead, I call him and say that Noah is going back to his place for the night.
“You want me to send one of the guys to watch the place?” he asks.
“Nope. No one’s going to be stupid enough to go after the senator’s son.”
I leave the lights on and a movie running in the theatre room, and some pillows and clothing stuffed under a blanket to form the shape of two people. Anyone peering in the windows to check up on us would assume Gabe and I are conked out in front of the TV.
Instead, I make him leave his cap and half his bling behind, and we climb into Noah’s car. Gabe and I crouch down, remaining hidden from view until Noah hits the freeway.
Instead of heading straight to Tartarus Oaks, Noah turns off at Brawley and drives into a lot of storage lockers. He parks the Lambo and opens a roller door to reveal a beat-up old Chevy Caprice, the kind of car manic pixie dream girls take on road trips across America with a suitcase of drugs in the trunk while bats circle overhead.
“Why are we here?” I glare at him as he unlocks the Chevy and climbs behind the wheel.
“I rented this shed a couple of years back when I started fighting. I figured the guys at the club would get suspicious if I showed up in the Lambo, so I park here and drive this instead.”
Clever. Noah thinks like a criminal. I don’t know whether to be impressed or mortified. I decide on impressed as I watch Noah back the Chevy out of the locker and replace it with the Lambo. Our family could do worse than recruit soldiers like Noah – after all, we offer the same perks as an Ivy League education – wealth, power, status – without the crippling student debt.
But I shouldn’t be thinking like that – like my father. I might be a queen, but my father’s legacy is a broken, thorny crown.
As we pass over the Acheron bridge into the other side of the city, something inside me releases. This side of the city hasn’t felt like an enemy since my parents’ murders. We pass familiar shops and looming gated communities where the most powerful criminals in this city make their homes. We circle around the old opera house where Daddy snuck me into secret parties as a waitress, where I observed the inner workings of the Empire I was expected to one day rule.
There’s a party there tonight – the building is lit up like Fourth of July, and people mill about outside. Even though the temperature has dropped like crazy, couples dine at the outdoor tables of an entire street of Lucian-owned Italian restaurants, and hold hands as they head down to the boardwalk for a romantic stroll by the ocean.
The life that was stolen from me glitters through the car windows in vibrant colors – red lights twinkling against a starless sky.
