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Needles poke into my chest and lungs, making it hard to breathe. A coldness that has nothing to do with the slightly opened window seeps through my skin, freezing me in place.
“Aria killed my parents.”
The truth of that statement settles over me like a one-thousand-pound cloak, weighing me down, making it impossible for me to sit upright. My body seems to droop incrementally—first my shoulders, then my chest, then my neck, and finally my head. Frodo yips in alarm, jumps off my lap, and then wiggles his tiny body underneath one of the chairs. I would’ve fallen forward if Landon hadn’t jumped up from the other couch and caught me. He picks me up and settles me in his lap, locking his strong arms around me. I inhale his spicy cinnamon scent and take comfort in his presence, in the security I feel in his arms.
“Why don’t I remember her? Surely, I would’ve seen her at least some point in my life.” My voice trembles, belying my distress.
“You probably did at some point. But your parents tried their hardest to keep you away from her and that cult. The only reason they didn’t move sooner was because they thought her love for them would keep them safe. Keep you safe. Apparently, they were wrong.”
A thought occurs to me then.
I sit up straighter in Landon’s lap to meet Raymond’s eyes. “Fischer knew her, didn’t he? If she was a part of their lives until I was born, he would’ve grown up with her.”
My god. I’m such an idiot.
Pieces finally begin to click together.
The casual way Fischer talked to The Divine One…
The way POP was able to get onto our property over break…
Senator Whipers being kidnapped before he could propose his newest bill…
My brother was working with The Divine One this entire time.
Hell, he’s her goddamn prodigy.
I’m going to be sick.
“Lan,” I whisper.
“On it.”
Still holding me tightly to his chest, Landon stands and hurries down the hall, toward a door that’s partially open. It appears to be a bedroom, but I don’t have time to figure out whose before Landon’s charging into the bathroom and settling me before the toilet.
Raymond’s words stab at my brain like a flaming blade.
Mother.
Aria.
Fischer.
I throw up.
And then I continue emptying myself in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel nothing at all.
33
DOMINIC
“We should just kill him,” Zane suggests casually, twirling his blade around and around between his fingers. Despite his jovial, almost lighthearted tone, his eyes on Raymond are like flinty chips in the darkness, rife with anger and an almost blinding hatred.
“I’d be okay with that.” Ryker leans forward and rubs his hands together.
Raymond pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my murder while I’m still in the room. Save that for a different time and place, okay?”
“Is it true?” Beckett’s eyes shimmer with grief.
