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Rafael stepped between me and her as if to protect me from the sight. As if I didn’t need with every fiber of my being to be sure she was truly gone.
My stomach churned, but I held steady. With the image of Mom’s death burned behind my eyes, I swiveled around to face the not-quite-empty rows of seats.
“My mother is dead,” I declared, heaving my voice out into the room. Then I spun to face the gaping underlings poised between me and my supporters. “The old Deadly Rose is gone, which means you answer to me now. I won’t have you hurting me or my people.”
The goons hesitated in their bewilderment, not knowing what orders to follow when the woman who’d given their previous ones was dead. As they wavered, my allies charged into their midst, knocking guns from hands and slamming anyone who resisted against the floorboards.
In the time it took me to heave a few breaths, Mom’s entire force was subdued—and now looking both confused and disgruntled. They stared at me as if waiting for further direction.
They were looking at the wrong person.
I swept my hand toward Rafael, who still had the bloody knife clutched in his large hand. “As the new Deadly Rose, my first act is to hand over the title and leadership over the Cordova empire to Rafael Torres. From now on, you answer to him. He’s clearly proven he’s up to the task.”
The thugs’ gazes darted between me and my former bodyguard, and I thought I saw respect starting to light in a few pairs of eyes. But they weren’t the only ones I was speaking to.
I swung back toward the seemingly absent audience and projected my voice even louder. “Can everyone accept that, or do we have any questions?”
Along the railing of the balcony that jutted out over half of the lower seats, twelve figures stepped from the shadows into view. I immediately made out Beckett’s confident stance and the Blood Hunter’s watchful face. The reps I’d met for the March Wind and the Bright Dragon held up phones streaming video chats so that their bosses could take in the confrontation and its result from afar.
Most of the other eight spectators were reps as well, holding their own phones to send these events back to the Devil’s Dozen bigwigs they stood for. A couple of the others, older men with stern faces, looked over the stage with their hands resting on the railing. Members who’d come to see these events in person, I guessed, though I didn’t know what names they went by.
One way or another, every existing member of the Devil’s Dozen had witnessed the death of the Deadly Rose. Everyone had seen Rafael take her life in spectacular fashion.
I’d needed them to not just see her gone, but also have it burned into their minds just how powerful the man beside me could be.
Beckett raised his voice first, with a subtle nod toward me. “I accept Rafael Torres as the new Deadly Rose. I welcome him into the Devil’s Dozen as an equal and a colleague.”
“I accept him too,” the Blood Hunter announced, more bluntly. “Good to have you with us, Rafael.”
Their voices started a cascade. One and then another face on the phone’s screens spoke, and their reps confirmed their acknowledgment of Rafael’s new position. The two other members who’d come in person hesitated the longest, but finally bowed their heads and added their agreement.
Even as relief washed over me, my stomach didn’t completely unknot. The rest of the Devil’s Dozen would be keeping a close eye on Rafael, no doubt, watching for any sign of weakness. Maybe even hoping for a chance to get the better of him.
I suspected their quick acceptance of my choice was partly because they hadn’t wantedmeto take my mother’s place anyway. It had to be obvious to everyone other than her how bad I’d be at that job.
But I was okay with that. And I knew Rafaelwasup to the task.
Anyone who tried to take him down would quickly regret it.
Rafael’s new band of underlings had crowded around him, professing their loyalty. This political segment of his life was novel to him, but I had all the faith in the world in him, just like he’d had in me for these past ten years.
My gaze dropped to my mother’s discarded body, still lying center stage in a widening puddle of blood. Taking in her contorted features and the sharp angles of her strewn limbs, a pang of sadness hit me.
I wouldn’t miss her. Every day from now on, I’d feel nothing but gratitude for the fact that she was no longer in my life. But I couldn’t help wishing I could have had a different mother—a kinder one, a loving one who’d at least tried to understand me.
But it said everything anyone needed to know about what kind of woman Mireya Cordova was, that when faced with her daughter helpless and asking for peace, she’d instead come at me with a weapon and every intention of murdering me.
Now the monster she’d proved herself to be was gone. A new legacy could begin, one I wouldn’t really be a part of.
Which was just fine with me. I had a different legacy to carve out for myself, one I could now pursue unhindered.
TWENTY-SIX
Jasper
If you askedme what was worse, the war with Lou’s mom and her goons or the challenge of facing the skating officials, judges, and immense audience at the World Championships today, I’d have had a little trouble answering. Okay, having guns pointed at me and fearing for Lou’s life—and my own—was a nightmare. But I’d had plenty of nightmares about competitions like the one we were about to complete too.
Lou nudged me as our paths crossed during the group warm-up before the free skate routines started. “Don’t look so grim. We’ve got this.”
