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"Watch it, Wolf." My voice holds warning. "You're taking too many liberties."
She holds up her hands placatingly, but her gaze remains knowing. "Come on, Hades. I'm only speaking out of concern. For both of you, actually."
I frown, torn between annoyance and surprise. Lyssa has never shown much interest in my affairs before. But she seems to read my silence as permission to continue.
"You care for the girl. I've known you a long time, and I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her. But—" She leans forward and fixes me with serious eyes. "—this life will eat her alive. Whatever it is you feel, you need to stamp it out—forhersake."
"If your training is insufficient?—"
"It's not my training," she says, ignoring the implied insult. "She's got a natural talent with marksmanship and she's not terrible at hand-to-hand—I mean, she's not good, but she could probably surprise someone long enough to run away from them. But she shouldn'thaveto live like that. That's my point. She's an innocent, and keeping her here is only going to destroy that innocence."
Aurora's wan face floats before my mind's eye once more. Lyssa always had an uncanny talent for seeing to the heart of things, and it's only what I've been thinking about myself tonight. Aurora has changed so much, learnedtoowell. What sweet traits of hers have been lost to the shadows forever?
I feel a sudden ache in my chest.
"What do you expect me to do?" I ask coldly. "I can't just throw her out on the streets. Nero would snatch her in an instant?—"
"Of course he would, and I'm not suggesting that," Lyssa sighs. "I'm just saying…she needs more than a little midnight gardening to cling to what's left of who she was. Let her have the days, too. The sunlight, the flowers, time away fromthis." She gestures around the windowless war room. "It's the only way to preserve what makes her…her."
The thought of allowing Aurora loose in the day spikes alarm. Since I brought her here, I've controlled when she wakes, what information she receives, who she interacts with. The thought of relinquishing any of that authority fills me with unease.
Outwardly, I keep my tone bored, dismissive. "Your concern for my prisoner is touching, but unnecessary. The girl knew what sort of world she was entering when she willingly decided to involve herself with the Syndicate. Any changes in her are of her own making—and thanks to your help, I might add."
Lyssa's eyes flash with a rare anger. "I've never known you to lie to yourself, Hadria. Suzy's had no choices but the ones forced on her—by her father, by Nero, and now byyou. You took her from everything she knew, dropped her into a viper's nest, and now you're saying she spontaneously grew fangs on her own?"
I slam my hand down on the arm of my chair, unconsciously mimicking my father's favorite gesture. "Enough! She belongs to me, and I'll do what I want with her."
Lyssa presses her lips together, then nods. "As you say, Hades. I only want what's best for the Syndicate."
"And while we're on the subject, you and everyone else can stop calling her fuckingSuzy."
I wish I hadn't added that. It makes me sound petty, vetoing a nickname. We all have them, after all, from Tony the Taxman to Ricky Half-hands, tome.
Hades.
I exhale, get myself back under control. Lyssa has always spoken her mind to me when no one else dares. I can't fault her for her honesty, misguided though it may be. "Let's focus on Nero," I tell her.
"Why don't we do that," she says neutrally, as the rest of my lieutenants start to file in.
It's only my lieutenants tonight, a top-tier meeting, and I'm grateful for that. I don't have the patience for the bullshit that inevitably comes with a full meeting of the Syndicate.
"What's the good news?" I ask, once they're all seated near the head of the table.
"There is none," Lyssa says bluntly. "But there's plenty of bad. Ricky?"
He doesn't want to speak, but he forces it out. "It seems some of our people have…defected, lured by Nero's promises of power."
I go very still. "Defected?" My voice is arctic. "They dare betrayme?"
"Five soldiers," Ricky says grimly.
"All from Ricky's crews," Tony the Taxman adds. "The rest of us have a firmer hand on our people. No offense intended," he says with a smarmy smirk at Ricky's hands.
For a second, Tony and Ricky just look at each other. And then, with a snarl, Ricky launches himself across the table, fists flying hard enough to prove to Tony that he might be missing a few fingers, but he doesn't need them to kill a man.
I watch wearily as Lyssa intervenes, my mind still on those rats who abandoned me for Nero's service. The insult is intolerable. Once Lyssa—with Ilona's help—has dragged Tony and Ricky away from each other, I stare hard at Tony. "I expect my lieutenants to stand firm with each other, not to tear each other down. Make a crack like that again, and you'll find yourself without hands at all. Clear?"
Tony swallows. "Clear, Boss."
