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Bet she knew Serafina was on site and didn’t give me so much as a heads-up about my evil twin.
I’d feel betrayed if I’d trusted Bridget to begin with, but I’ve been side-eying her since the SAS plucked me out of an active murder scene like they’d been waiting in the wings for me to fuck up.
“He must be in town for your brother’s funeral. Tell me where to find him, and we’ll cut you a deal on these human trafficking charges.”
Serafina tilts her head—a butcher sizing up a bleeding cut of meat, seeking the softest spot to slice.
Being dragged to a black site hasn’t smudged her acid pink lipstick. Even hammered with the full force of Bridget’s loathing, drowning in pheromones that put her face-to-face with the ghosts of her fated mates, Serafina doesn’t flinch.
It’s clear that my sister is evil.
You don’t accidentally traffic a bunch of little girls, if that was what she was doing tonight.
But shit.
Serafina’s a badass.
I want to switch teams.
“I only speak with my lawyer. Or with my sister.” Her head tilt finds me, throwing me under the spotlight when I’m trying to play dead.
Freaking seriously?
Cancel the trade.
I hate my family.
Every single member, on both sides of the twisted tree.
“Marisol.” It’s the first time my mother’s ever spoken my name, and I wrench so hard the back of my skull kisses cinder blocks. “Show us what you can do.”
Commander Fissure stands aside. Her mates embrace her, whispering consolations.
As if giving me the most logical command is a strain.
I swallow acid-reflux rage and shuffle in front of Serafina, letting out a half-hearted blast of pheromone just strong enough to make her nose run. “Sorry, Commander. I’m tapped for the day.”
Serafina laughs, weirdly bubbly. “Oh, I like you.”
“It’s not mutual.” She has no idea what I’ve been through because of her.
Or does she?
I doubt I’ll get another chance to ask my questions.
Instead of slumping to my corner, downcast and keeping the status quo, I lean into her shoulder, positioning the glands in my wrist so I can target my stink without smoking the room. “Did you know I existed?”
She shrugs awkwardly, hands zip-tied to the chair. “Daddy has whelped more than a few bastards. Your name was never on his radar.”
A long-held fear relaxes.
Ever since I learned my origin story, Nikolaj was one more bogeyman to escape.
Lucky I wasn’t worth calling home about.
My brothers must’ve been too busy cashing checks and favors from the Orlovs.
“Why do you play along with this pig show?” Serafina flips the spotlight. “Get me out and we’ll both be free. My jet’s fueled. We can go anywhere. World. Oyster. Us.”
