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As expected, I hear from Artemis very early the next morning.
Mr. Franklin would be pleased to have you join him at lunch today, the text message says.His helicopter will be arriving shortly. It’s not an invitation.
I wake up Simon to fill him in on what’s happening. He knows that I’m in a deadly family feud, but he doesn’t know the particulars. It wouldn’t be safe for him if he did.
“Can’t I go with you?” he asks. “You need backup.”
I shake my head. “What I need is a promise from you that if anything happens to me, you’ll find Camille and guard her the way you would me.”
Ever the good soldier, Simon nods.
“You’ll never insult her again. Do you understand that?”
His eyebrows tilt inward, but he doesn’t question me.
“Noted. And before you say it, no…I won’t touch her. Ever. I quite enjoy my limbs.”
He knows me too well, and it’s a bit unnerving. I’ve prided myself on remaining separate from everyone. Even those I’ve grown up with. It gets too messy when feelings get involved. Not that I have those to begin with. Outside of Camille, I’ve rarely felt affection for anyone else. Emilie comes closest.
I just shake my head and make my way to meet the chopper.
Camille will be safe with Simon. I have left instructions for him in case I don’t return, instructions I am confident he will carry out.
Ever since I found out about the challenge, I’ve been preparing for whether I win or lose. Will it be enough? I won’t know the answer to that until the very end.
The helicopter lands on my landing pad a couple of hours later. I never gave Artemis my address, but I’m not surprised he knows where I’m staying. He always knows because of the tracker, which is a huge fucking problem when you’re trying to stay hidden.
I arrive at the estate at 11:00 a.m. As we’re flying overhead, my eye is drawn to the densely wooded area near the cabin. That’s where my fate will be decided in a few short days.
I’m strong and more than capable of holding my own, but this is a fight these men have been preparing for their entire lives. I’ve only just recently accepted my darkness, and I sure as hell haven’t spent my years killing my family off to sit on the proverbial throne.
Still. I have too much to lose.
When I enter the sprawling home, escorted by two guards, another guard stops me and runs a metal detecting wand up and down my body. I understand their caution, but I didn’t bother packing weapons; what would be the point? Once he’s satisfied, I’m led to a guest room, and again, Maria comes in and kneels at my feet, offering to service me in any way I please. There’s a haunted look in her eyes. Somehow her expression reminds me of Camille, and I don’t feel as excited by her fear and misery as the first time I saw her. Again, I turn her down.
She leaves, eyes downcast. Her fate could change significantly in the next few days, depending on the outcome of the challenge. I’m surprised I’m even thinking about what happens to her. It’s not like me.
I ponder this as I pace the floor. Am I concerned about her? Would I have feelings if she died? I don’t think so. Camille has changed me. She’s worn the points off my sharpest spikes but hasn’t made me completely human. I don’t think anyone could do that. The necessary parts are simply missing.
I’m left to cool my heels for almost two hours. If this is Artemis’s attempt to psych me out, it’s a failure. It amuses me considerably. I hope he’s watching and realizes I won’t go down easily.
Thankfully, he seems to have some fucked-up moral code that prohibits him from simply taking me out now while I’m unarmed. I’m not so sure some of the others in the family would be so principled.
Finally, Maria comes to fetch me. Solomon and Paxton are at the dining room table, sipping mint juleps. The pastels and bright colors are gone. They’re dressed formally now, wearing navy blazers and pale-blue oxfords, their silk ties Windsor-knotted.
Maria vanishes after I sit down. Several bulky man-servants clad in butler’s livery hover discreetly in the background. From the way they carry themselves, they’re all either military or they’ve had extensive tactical training.
Solomon looks amused. “Somebody’s been a bad boy,” he mocks as one of the men silently pours me a mint julep.
“Isn’t that the definition of being a Franklin?” I smile at him. He inclines his head in agreement and toasts me with his drink.
Paxton glowers at me, burning me with hatred. I meet his stare offering a tip of my lips to show he’s child’s play.
“You’re not one of us, Bastien, and you never will be. Robert shouldn’t have brought you here.” Then a nasty smile curls his lips. “That’s all right, though, you won’t be fouling up the works for much longer. I can’t wait to meet you in the woods.”
Paxton’s smug arrogance grates on my nerves. Might as well do my best to get in his head while I have the opportunity.
“Sounds kinky. Thanks, but if I were into men, I’d want one with some actual balls.” I pour myself some coffee. It’s a little early in the morning to start drinking.
