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He cuts me off. “No, not everyone. Some died, one after the other.”
“How many?” I ask.
“Four.”
“I found another four,” Rowan says.
“So that’s eight,” Kieran says.
“We can’t risk them finding out we’re on to them,” I retort.
“We can’t afford any mistakes. This is perhaps our only chance,” Hayden replies.
“We’re going to fuck the Brotherhood so good, none of them will ever come back from the dead,” Cato says.
They leave again to gather more intel. Kieran and I head to our cars. He exhales in relief. “I might finally sleep tonight.”
“And here I thought that was Aiden’s fault.”
“At least I have one less problem. I can’t say the same for you.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“It’s like my birthday on repeat.”
When I get home, I take the stairs and get ready for bed with need coursing through my blood.
I should feel lighter, but Violet conditioned me to want her whenever I think about her. And fuck if I don’t think about her every other second.
I leave the house with a smile plastered on my face. It felt good to ignore Cameron. If I can have a bit of control over this paralyzing fear that has had me in its grip for years, he has to face his demons as well.
The wind tickles my bare neck, making me feel alive. After our first kiss, I literally thought I was going to die. I realized the condition of that time when my immune system was non-existent can’t be compared to the present. I’m healthy, and I should focus on that. Therapy did work; I only had to accept it.
When I reach Chiara and Cato’s mansion, an imposing structure of cement and glass, I ring the bell. A woman opens up and lets me inside with a welcoming smile. Their daughter, Celia, rushes down the stairs, her long black hair cascading down her back. She abruptly stops in front of me.
“What did we say about running?” Chiara asks, descending the stairs.
“Sorry, Mommy.”
Chiara rolls her eyes the moment she hears her giggle. I get the impression Celia knows exactly what she does by playing coy.
“You came,” Chiara says, coming closer to greet me.
I take a step further inside the house. Everything looks polished. It’s a modern home decorated in whites and blacks, with abstract art adorning the walls.
“Would you like anything to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“All right,” she replies. “Let’s start.”
She gestures for me to follow her. We turn right, and as she swings the door open, I pause, blinking. There is a studio and counters covered with small boxes. Gold and diamonds, leather and crystals fill the long workspace.
“This is my home base for when inspiration hits.” She sighs. “Currently, I’m here more than at the office.”
I take my laptop from my backpack and place it on her desk. Her eyes sparkle when I show her the symbols I worked on based on our previous meeting.
“Wow, that’s incredible.”
