Emerald Blaze

Chapter 14

Fifteen minutes from the house I called in to report to Victoria’s office like a good little soldier. Trevor answered on the second ring, his voice clipped.

“Please hold.”

The look of horror on Christian’s face when I mentioned my evil grandmother was branded in my memory. Did I have to become Victoria for us to survive? I was learning to think like her. To react like her. If I kept going, there would come a time when the act of being Victoria’s granddaughter would no longer be an act at all. I didn’t want to turn into my grandmother. I wanted to go back to the time when my lack of experience gave me blinders.

Now was a bad time for a moment of weakness. Trevor would come back on the line to take down my report, and I couldn’t afford to sound bitter.

The phone clicked, and my grandmother’s crisp, upper-class voice filled Beetle’s interior. “What did you find out?”

Surprise, surprise. Grandmother had no phone privileges. Somehow, I doubted the prison administration would be shocked at this appalling breach of security.

“Christian was approached on the golf course of his country club. A white man, probably twenties or thirties, dark haired, tan, with an unidentified accent, looking for dirt on House Baylor. They had a casual conversation, then the man left. Christian doesn’t know how he got into the club. He’d never seen him before, and he would have noticed him, because the stranger was a telekinetic and didn’t have to retrieve his golf balls.”

Country clubs catering to upper-level magic users usually took a dim view of members using magic on the grounds. It carried the same social penalty as flashing around large wads of cash. It was considered gauche and simply wasn’t done. The stranger had flaunted the rule to identify himself as a high-ranking mage, someone Christian would consider worthy of conversation.

“Anything else? Details?”

“No. The senior Ravenscroft isn’t a detail person. If he encountered an elephant, he would describe it as a large grey animal.”

Victoria sighed. “If you cracked Christian’s big head, you’d be lucky to find a tablespoon of brains. Their entire House isn’t overburdened with intelligence or imagination. Did he say why he opened his mouth?”

“He doesn’t feel I’m good enough to marry his son.”

Victoria laughed, the sound ringing through the vehicle.

“Also, he’s afraid of you.”

“Maybe he’s gotten marginally smarter with age. Call me the moment you learn anything new.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” That was easier than I thought.

“Your Italian came to see me.” Amusement bubbled up in Victoria’s voice.

What? He did what?

“He hasn’t told you,” Victoria said.

Damn it, waited to respond a second too long.

My brain finally registered that my exit lane was about to end. I merged a foot before it ended. Behind me a red pickup blared its horn in outrage.

I willed my voice into careful neutrality. “What did he say?”

“He threatened me.”

Oh my God. “Did you hurt him?”

“You need to do a better job of concealing your feelings. I can hear the panic in your voice.”

“Did you hurt him, Grandmother?”

“His mind is intact. I found him entertaining. Besides, he is a beautiful boy. So much power. It would be a waste to turn him into a vegetable.”

I would strangle him. What was he thinking? He probably didn’t even understand how lucky he was to come out of there with his mind undamaged.

The humor in her voice grew. “He informed me that you are perfectly capable, and my interference is impeding you. He also suggested that if something were to happen to you as a result of my attention, he would cut off my head.”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, he was perfectly charming while suggesting it. Impeccable manners, great poise. Good breeding always shows, even when dressed in ratty jeans and a faded T-shirt. I think your pauper prince truly loves you, the poor fool. It’s a shame.”

She was mocking me. “Gloating is beneath you.”

“Catalina, I’m in prison. I take my fun where I can find it. You know where you and I stand.”

The call cut off. She’d hung up.

Here is fine, I’ll find my own way. I’m going to turn right around and poke a ravenous shark with a stick to see what happens.

I would kill him. No, worse, I would yell at him when I found him.

I drove to our security booth, got out, and let myself be sniffed.

Regina walked out of her house, strode to our front door, and waited with her arms crossed.

Security cleared me. I drove Beetle through and parked it. “Did something happen?”

“When Leon and your sister brought Rhino back, it felt odd.” She passed her hand over Beetle’s hood.

“Odd how?”

“I thought I sensed something animated but couldn’t find it. I’m checking the other vehicles. Your truck is clear.”

“What kind of something?”

“Not that kind,” she assured me. “Ordinary animation. Patricia is doing an extra sweep and I sent Cinder to hunt. We’ll see what she catches.”

I walked into the house at twenty past eight. The building was quiet. Shadow bounded out of the media room and scratched at my legs, overcome by doggy excitement. I pet her and trudged into the kitchen. I was so tired. Yesterday had been a long day, today was an even longer day, and everything hurt. I needed food and sleep, in that order.

I missed the warehouse. Now we were split into three stories, with Bern and Leon taking up the third floor, and Arabella and Grandma Frida using the second. Only Mom and I stayed on the bottom floor, and right now, with everyone busy doing their own thing, I felt abandoned and isolated. It was almost like coming home to my own private apartment, mine, but cold and lonely.

Except for Shadow.

I made a beeline for the fridge. Replenishing magic burned a lot of calories, and my stomach had turned into a black hole swirling with acid. I’d missed dinner but there would be leftovers. There were always leftovers.

The fridge offered me Mom’s fajitas. It was a simple recipe, marinated skirt steak or chicken thighs chopped into bite-sized pieces and wrapped in flour tortillas with cheese, chunks of tomato and avocado, and mild sauce. They kept surprisingly well, were good hot or cold, and everyone in the family liked them. Mom must have made a ton, because the platter held at least a dozen, wrapped in plastic so the fridge wouldn’t dry them out.

I pried the plastic open, snagged a fajita, and closed the fridge. Nevada stood three feet away. I jumped and dropped the fajita. Shadow darted across the floor, scooped up the fajita, and bolted down the hallway.

I swore. “Make some noise next time, please.”

Nevada crossed her arms over her chest.

Uh-oh. I knew that look. That was the you-are-doomed look.

“Albert called,” my sister said.

I opened the fridge and took out a Corona. “What did he say?”

“He wants to talk. He says he knows he fucked up, but he thinks there’s still a chance, despite all the threats. He wants an opportunity to apologize.”

I opened the beer and took a long swallow. I barely tasted it, but it was cold, and that was enough. “He has nothing to apologize for.”

“He thinks he does.”

I tried to get past her to the table, but she stayed where she was, trapping me between the island and the fridge. I had a feeling that if I turned around and circled the island, she would just step to the side and block my way again.

“Initially I thought he might have threatened you,” she said.

“Albert?”

“Yes. But after five minutes of his apologizing, I realized that he wouldn’t have, which means you threatened him. I asked Bern to trace your phone route.”

Crap. I drank more beer.

“You went to see her. Then you went straight to Albert’s house. Now he wants to apologize. His exact words were ‘beg forgiveness.’”

Technically, all of that was accurate.

“What did she make you do?”

I couldn’t lie and say going to see Albert was my idea. “That’s between me and her.” The less Nevada was involved, the safer it was.

My sister’s eyes blazed. “I told you to stop talking to her. I warned you. I know you think she’s some sort of mentor, but you have no idea how dangerous she is. She told you to do something cruel, and you went and did it. Is that who you want to be?”

Nobody could compare with my sister. She hits the bull’s-eye on the first try. Right into the knot of guilt and doubt.

“It’s not that simple.” I sounded lame, even to myself.

Nevada locked her teeth and nodded. “I’ll make it simple. Tomorrow I’ll go and tell her to leave you alone.”

Panic smashed into me in a blinding explosion of white. My fingertips went cold. Victoria let Alessandro’s stunt go because she found him amusing. If Nevada marched in there tomorrow and started issuing ultimatums, Victoria would punish her. She viewed Alessandro as my teenage crush, ultimately harmless. But Nevada wielded a great deal of influence over me. Victoria already saw her as a rival. She would act to consolidate her grip on me. She would retaliate.

She would hurt the baby.

“Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

Nevada’s eyes were clear. “You’re my sister and I love you. You’re trapped, but I’ll get you out.”

No, no, no.

Nevada turned away from me. She’d made up her mind. I had seconds to stop her. I needed a lever, a gap in her armor, something to make her listen.

“You always took care of us when we were kids. But now I’m an adult. You taught me that being an adult means making informed decisions. I want to tell you something, and if, when I’m done, you still want to confront Victoria, I won’t fight you.”

Nevada turned around and sat at the table. “Okay. I’ll hear you out.”

I would regret this conversation for the rest of my life, but I had to keep her away from Victoria. I pulled out a chair, sat, and took another swig of my beer. It tasted bitter. My adrenaline was through the roof.

“Do you remember when you gave up being the Head of our House?”

Nevada narrowed her eyes. “I remember.”

“I told that story to Alessandro. The whole thing. How you were working yourself into the ground trying to earn money for us and to deal with the threats against Connor, how you wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t let anybody help, until you collapsed and we had to call an ambulance. I explained that we begged you to slow down and recover, and you promised to do it, and then less than twenty-four hours later, I found you back in the office rummaging through files. How Arabella and I had inherited shares of the business from Dad, and we voted to ban you from making money for the business, forcing you to keep everything you earned, and then you freaked out and declared that we didn’t trust you anymore and you couldn’t be the Head of our House.”

Nevada’s mouth thinned. She didn’t like remembering that any more than I did.

My sister waved her hand at me to keep going.

“Something Alessandro said stuck with me. He said that you knew we were right, but you didn’t think you were wrong. The more I thought about that, the less sense it made. You rebuilt the business from the ground up after Dad got sick. You put your life on hold and sacrificed for it. You loved the business. It was Dad’s legacy, and you honored it.”

Nevada shrugged.

“You also loved us. You worked sixty-hour weeks and then still found time to be our big sister. And you are the most grounded, levelheaded person I know. Tantrum isn’t even in your vocabulary. But somehow you threw one, and then you got so butt-hurt, you quit the business and almost quit the family. You didn’t speak to me for three weeks.”

Nevada’s expression softened. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“At the time I felt so guilty. I came up with this wonderful idea to get you to work less and stop you from driving yourself into the ground for us, and it all went horribly wrong. I didn’t know what to do. And you were so angry. That same day you went down to the Keeper of Records and officially abdicated leadership of the House. That put me in charge of the family. I was twenty years old. I knew nothing about running a House. Here we were, less than a year away from emerging from the new House grace period, and you dropped it all in my lap. My big sister wouldn’t have done that in a million years.”

Hurt flashed in Nevada’s stare. She hid it instantly, but I saw it. I wanted to throw my arms around her, but I had to get through this.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “You hurt my feelings, I was overworked, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

I shook my head. “No, you were thinking very clearly. What Alessandro said was true. You knew we were right, but you didn’t think you were wrong. You made the best possible decision under the circumstances. It wasn’t emotional. It was calculated.”

Nevada frowned. “Where are you going with this?”

“About two months before you collapsed, Connor was still dealing with the fallout of exposing the Sturm-Charles conspiracy. Friends and allies of the people whose Houses fell as the result of that investigation were gunning for him. You received a USB drive with a series of recordings showing Connor engaged in human trafficking.”

No reaction. One day I would be as good as her.

“The recordings were graphic and horrible. Girls, barely teenagers, transported in cages, tortured, and raped. You started digging and found a wealth of supporting evidence. Bogus shipping records that couldn’t pass even the slightest check. A secret account Connor didn’t know he had with deposits from a known human trafficker who had been conveniently murdered, so it would look like Connor tried to cover up his sins. But all of that wasn’t sensational. The recordings, however, that was the glue-you-to-your-screen evidence. Except the recordings alone weren’t enough, not when a powerful illusion Prime could duplicate Connor’s appearance. Someone had to validate them.”

My sister leaned forward, focused on me. I could practically feel the wheels turning in her head. She was trying to figure out how I knew.

“Robert J. Merritt,” I said. “Forty-one years old, born and raised in Sycamore, Illinois, white, married, two children, one golden retriever, a war hero. Also, one of the sixteen people who walked with Connor out of the jungle in Belize.”

Again, no reaction. If someone watched us from a distance, they would think we were discussing buying kitchen towels.

“Merritt called and told you he intended to vouch for the authenticity of the recordings. The bond between Connor and the Sixteen is unshakable. They’ve been through hunger and captivity and torture, and they would literally die for each other. Any of the remaining Sixteen would say so on the witness stand. If Robert Merritt testified that the recordings were authentic, he would be unimpeachable. He was a bulletproof witness.”

“He was a liar.”

“Yes. But it didn’t matter. This had all the makings of an incredible media blitz: a war hero, torn between loyalty to his officer and friend and his conscience, chooses truth and decency over keeping his savior’s disgusting secret. Connor would exist under a cloud of suspicion for the rest of his life and so would you. You knew that he was innocent, because every time stamp on those recordings corresponded to times when you and Connor were away together. You were his only alibi.”

Her eyes were clear, her voice steady. “He didn’t do it.”

“I know. That’s not who Connor is. But you couldn’t prove it. All the elements of his alibi depended on his employees and you. They owed their livelihood to him. He held all of their loans, every mortgage, every credit card account, because he likes to make his people secure from outside manipulation. And you? You loved him. You would do anything for him, even lie. You knew you wouldn’t be believed. You tried to find Robert Merritt but he’d disappeared into thin air. He would call you occasionally, to taunt you and to hint at compensation, but there was never anything concrete. No demand for money. No explanation why.”

“He was a ghost,” Nevada said. “I threw everything I had at him. Rogan’s entire force searched for him. Nobody could find Merritt, not even Bug.”

“On the day you collapsed, he called you and promised to release the first video in a week. You knew you couldn’t stop it. You knew that if you stood by Connor, the press would paint you as a vile, awful woman who supported a monster. Merritt told you that he would implicate you during his testimony. He would tell everyone that you were aware of what Connor was doing and you encouraged it. You would be a pariah. Our society despises male criminals, but it rips the female ones to pieces. As women, we are supposed to nurture, care, and defend children, not enable others to prey on them.”

Nevada’s face turned haggard and exhausted, as if the ghost of some other woman had settled onto her face. It was there for just a fraction of a breath, but seeing it was like being cut. It must’ve been so awful, and she’d kept it all inside and kept going, trying to save him, trying to keep us out of it. It’d been over a year and a half and still that wound hurt, and now I’d reopened it. I was a terrible person.

“How do you know?” Nevada asked.

“I’ll get to that. You had a choice. You could stand by Connor and go down with him, dragging our family into the gutter. We would not recover from something like that. You were the Head of our House and nobody knew anything about us. People would ask questions. How much did we know? Did we participate? Did we get off on it? Did we make money from the suffering of human beings? You could stay with the man you love and watch the whole Baylor family go down in flames with you or you could abandon Connor and publicly cut all ties with House Rogan. He told you to do it, didn’t he?”

Nevada nodded. “He did. He had divorce papers drawn up. He is completely innocent, Catalina.”

My poor sister. Every time I thought about her and Connor waiting for this to break, trying so hard and failing, my heart squeezed itself into a painful little ball.

“You decided to stand by him,” I said.

“I love him.”

It was really that simple for her. When Nevada loved someone, she gave all of herself to them.

“You knew that if you told us about it, we would stand by you. You were desperate to separate us from this nightmare, so instead you manipulated us into cutting you out. When I was in that hospital room with you, you told me that we needed the money and that just because Arabella and I owned shares didn’t mean we could tell you what to do. Then when you came back to the office the day after and I busted you, you told me again how you needed to make money for the family. You put the building blocks into my head, and I clicked them together. If I’d just had some time to think about it, I would’ve realized it. I remember looking at the accounts after you left and seeing that we had more than enough money. I could’ve figured it out, but we were all so freaked out and afraid you would die just like Dad.”

Nevada sighed. “I love you so much. If there had been any other way, I would’ve taken it. But there wasn’t.”

“And then you made the break appear as real as possible. You ran to the Keeper of Records, abdicated, and stopped talking to us. You made sure people knew we were estranged. You sacrificed everything you’d built so we could have a future.”

“I did what I had to do. You, Arabella, and the boys, all of you deserve a life. I’m the oldest. It’s my job to protect all of you.”

I felt like crying and pushed it down. Not now. I still had things to say.

“You waited for the video release, but it was never uploaded. And then you got a phone call. Nothing was said. Just a few moments of silence and then a disconnect signal. You traced the phone’s location to a house in the Third Ward, right in the most dangerous part of it. You and Connor raided the house and found Robert Merritt dead, with a confession written in his handwriting and sealed with his fingerprint, which said that the entire thing was a fabrication and a plot to get money. The only other existing copies of the doctored recordings were in a safe next to him. It was over, just like that.”

A vicious light sparked in Nevada’s eyes. “Except that Merritt didn’t have the resources to manufacture something like that. And the confession claimed that he killed himself out of guilt. I spoke to that weasel for two months. He didn’t have an ounce of guilt in him. He reveled in torturing us.”

I leaned forward. “Have you ever wondered who was behind all of that? What the point was?”

“Go on,” Nevada said.

“It was a test. You failed.”

My sister shook her head. “Is that what Victoria told you?”

“She wanted to know where your loyalty lay, so she made you choose between Connor and us. Either you put the needs of House Baylor first and proved to her that you were a suitable Head of the House or you would remove yourself so she could put someone else in your place. You chose Connor, and she got what she wanted. I know all of this because she told me exactly how she did it, step by step, every little detail, so if I ever needed to engineer something like this, I would have a detailed plan on how to do it.”

Nevada laughed softly. “She’s filling your head with nonsense. I suspected her and eliminated her from my list.”

I took a deep breath. “The combination to the safe, which you found in Merritt’s left pant pocket. 060149. June 1st, 1949. It’s her birthday.”

Nevada went white.

Silence stretched between us.

“It can’t be,” she murmured.

“She worked on it for almost two years, building this enormous complex web of bribes, blackmail, and violence. She bought Merritt for five million dollars. She had the trafficker kidnapped, broke him, and then used the information to make the deposits. She has a clan of Vietnamese illusion mages in her pocket. It’s a large family, powerful, but poor, because they have issues with the Vietnamese government. They will do whatever she asks. If you ever worried that the children in the videos were hurt, they weren’t. They weren’t even children. Like the part where they break the girl’s arms and hang her off a hook—she’s an adult woman, an illusion mage. The guy who assumes Connor’s image and rapes her is actually her husband. I’ve seen the before and after footage. They laughed about it.”

Nevada struggled to say something. “Connor . . .”

“I know that Connor would have given Merritt the money. Merritt wouldn’t have taken it. He hated Connor, because he thought Connor was the reason they were on that mission in the first place.”

“The reason they went on that mission was because they were in the military, they had orders, and it was their job to go,” Nevada growled.

“Merritt hurt his back in the jungle. The military denied him disability. The family was on food stamps. Victoria found him at his lowest, used him, and then had him killed once he’d served his purpose.”

Nevada stared at me.

I stood up. The words poured out of me, messy and stupid, but honest. “I love you so much, and Connor, and the baby. I love Arabella, and Leon, and Bern, and Mom, and Grandma Frida. You can’t fight Victoria. You don’t think like her. You don’t know her secrets. But I do.”

My sister blinked. “Catalina . . .”

I couldn’t stop. I had to make her see. “She’s grooming me to be her successor. I go there every two weeks and I learn everything I can, no matter what it costs me. I’m building my own web around our grandmother. It requires time and careful planning. When the right moment comes, I will collapse her world. But that moment is years away. If you go there tomorrow, you’ll wreck everything I’ve built, because she’ll attack you and your baby, and I will defend you with my life. We won’t win, Nevada. She has contingency plans in place in case of such an attack. Even if we kill her, we will lose. You trusted me with the responsibility of keeping our family safe, and I won’t let you down. Please trust me again. I know how much you gave up for our sake. I promise you I won’t let you get hurt. I won’t let any of you get hurt.”

Nevada stood up, her eyes wide. I hugged her, squeezing her to me, and fled the room.

I climbed the stairs past the third floor, all the way to the top, where a brick utility building offered access to the paved roof. I walked out into the night, skirted the utility structure, and came to the narrow space that served as my hiding spot.

I’d claimed it soon after we moved into the building. I brought up plants and set them along the edge of the roof—Texas lantanas with their clusters of red and yellow blossoms, wild mint with humble purple flowers, white and pink zonal geraniums, and lush golden pothos. Bern and Leon installed an overhang for me and built a stone rail along the roof, Nevada bought me an outdoor couch, and Runa helped me string outdoor lights from the overhang to the rail. Arabella found a small fire pit filled with blue glass pebbles and Grandma Frida hooked it up to the gas line. Mom made me a blanket and bought pillows.

Alessandro once told me that I was loved by many people. He was right. But right now, I felt completely and utterly alone.

I leaned on the stone rail. Below, across the street, warm electric light spilled onto the pavement from industrial-sized bay doorways. After the warehouse collapsed, Connor gifted Grandma Frida one of the buildings he’d bought when he was trying to keep us secure. It used to be a massive industrial garage where semitrucks were repaired and Grandma Frida had pounced on it, so she could keep her business running. She didn’t know how to not work. Tanks, mobile guns, and cars spoke to her in the same way computers and code whispered to Bern and she loved talking to them.

The blinds on the large window at the top of Grandma’s building were open and through it I could see the inside of the motor pool. A bright red monster of a tank sat in the center. Grandma Frida stood on its side in her blue coveralls, digging in it with some weird tool. It was barely nine, and when Grandma Frida focused on a problem, she sometimes worked till midnight.

A heavy door shut somewhere. Nevada crossed the street and walked into the motor pool. Shadow followed her, wagging her tail. Grandma Frida turned away from the tank, waved at Nevada, and went back to messing with the tank’s insides. Nevada pulled one of the metal chairs open and settled into it.

I had upset my sister and she went to talk to Grandma.

I backed away from the edge and sat on my padded couch. Around me the night mugged the city, the air no longer scorching, but still warm. My insides churned. I’d never planned on talking to Nevada about any of it. My sister dragged around a truckload of guilt for forcing me to become the Head of the House and making me think it was all my idea. Now she knew that I knew. I had no idea what she was feeling. It was all terrible and fucked up, and it felt like my soul had been shredded. Anger, sadness, guilt, and sharp wailing anxiety boiled inside me into an awful, toxic mix. I wanted to punch something and cry, but I also wanted to curl into a ball in some dark hole and not come out.

I pulled out my phone, found Alessandro’s number, and texted him.

Where are you?

Where do you need me to be?

I was a fool. On the roof of my building. Look for the Christmas lights.

He didn’t respond.

I switched to Patricia. Someone’s coming to see me. Let him in.

Okay.

I leaned my elbows on my knees and hid my face in my hands. The ache gnawed at me, relentless. What if Nevada ignored me and went to see Victoria anyway? What if I failed?

I ran through my preparations in my head. Victoria would go for Gisela first. My aunt was a walking calamity. She spent her life bouncing from one man to the next, always on the fringe of crime. Both Bern and Leon despised her. She was like a comet—every time she appeared in our lives, disaster followed. If I were Victoria, I’d grab her. She was a veritable treasure trove of sensitive information only a close family member would know, everything from how four-year-old Leon used to wet himself when her then-boyfriend would scream at him to Mom’s PTSD. She didn’t know everything, but what she knew would hurt and it was exactly the kind of information Victoria weaponized.

“What are you thinking?” Alessandro asked.

I lifted my head. He sat on the rail under the string of outdoor lights. The black and grey fabric of his long-sleeved shirt and pants blended with the night. He looked like a thief on the prowl from the neck down and a prince from the neck up. The glow of the lights caressed his face, his bold, strong features, carved jaw, perfect cheekbones, amber eyes under the sweep of dark eyebrows . . .

“If I were smarter, I would kill my aunt,” I said.

“What did she do?”

He didn’t look shocked. He wasn’t outraged. He simply assumed that if I was thinking about it, it had to be necessary. This is who we were. Birds of a feather.

“Nevada is thinking about confronting Victoria tomorrow on my behalf. I tried to convince her not to. I don’t know if I succeeded. If she goes after Victoria, my grandmother will retaliate, and Gisela would make a handy weapon and a good bargaining chip. No matter how fucked up she is, she’s still my aunt and Mom’s sister.”

“If something were to happen to her, would your mother try to save her?”

I nodded. “She would. I should kill Gisela and solve the problem permanently.”

“But you won’t.” He said it with complete conviction.

“No, I won’t. I have to look my reflection in the eyes in the morning.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

I showed him my phone. “In the Royal Club inside Zona Rosa of Mexico City. I’m tracking her phone. She’s banging a guy who calls himself El Temor.”

“The Fear? Is he a criminal?”

“He is a luchador. Just to be clear, I’m not asking you to kill her, Alessandro.”

“I know.” He smiled. “It’s not you.”

He believed in me. I leaned on that like a crutch. I shouldn’t have called him to this roof, but I was desperate for someone who understood.

“I did pay a local PI firm to keep an eye on her. If I call them, they will take her off the street and sit on her until I tell them to let her go.”

“Now, that’s you. Are you thinking of pulling the trigger?”

“If I do, Victoria will know. I’ve been pretending that I have no idea where Gisela is and have no interest in finding her, because I want Victoria to aim her first blow there. If I show my cards, she’ll switch her primary target.”

“That’s a dilemma,” he agreed.

I hugged myself. I wanted him to come over and hold me. I had this absurd feeling that if only he touched me, everything would be okay somehow. If all the people in the city disappeared, and it was only me and him on this roof floating alone in the fog, I would be perfectly happy. I should’ve felt guilty over it—I was a sister, a cousin, a daughter . . . but in this moment I didn’t care. It was just me and Alessandro.

“You found Arkan after you left,” I said. “What happened?”

He looked at the city, handsome like a painting, silhouetted against the distant lights, then turned to me, and grinned. It was a sharp Alessandro grin, bright and self-mocking. “He killed me.”

“He what?”

Alessandro sighed. “I’d been looking for him for so long. He would surface somewhere, and by the time I got there, he would vanish into thin air, like a ghost. I would start over, collecting traces of him until he reappeared. We played this game for years. I don’t know if he got tired of being chased or if it was a coincidence, but two weeks after I left Houston to look for him, I found him. Or rather he let me find him. I tracked him down to the Montreal Malting Silos, a big abandoned malt factory. Towers and towers of concrete, thirty-seven meters high, in the middle of the city by the river.”

“Did you go in?”

“I did. In my stupid head, it was going to be me against him on top of those silos.”

It had already happened, so why was I so scared for him? “It wasn’t.”

“It was me, him, and four other Primes. I took down three. Then the telekinetic threw a semi at me. I dodged the first pass. The second caught me. It swept me off the roof and I fell off the tower.”

Thirty-seven meters. One meter equaled roughly 3.28 feet multiplied by 37 . . . 121.36. He fell one hundred and twenty-one feet. Oh my God.

“I don’t remember the impact,” he said. “I remember falling and then just black. I must’ve been clinically dead for a few seconds, because they took my weapons but didn’t bother putting a bullet in my brain. When I woke up, there was pain.”

He said it so matter-of-fact.

“Most of me was broken. I couldn’t move my legs. There was so much pain and it was hot and white.” He raised his hands and made a spreading motion as if smoothing a blanket on the bed. “An endless ocean of it. I was on my back and decided to let myself drown. I failed and it hurt so much. I lay there, looking at the sky, waiting for my magic to give up, and I thought of you. It wasn’t anything deep or profound. I remembered your face and thought, I would really like to see her again. So, I turned over, passed out for a bit, and when I came to, I started crawling. Sometimes I’d black out, then I would come to, remember you, and crawl a little more. No, no, don’t cry for me.”

I realized heat wet my cheeks.

“Please,” he said, his voice quiet. “I don’t ever want to make you cry.”

I couldn’t stop. The tears just poured out. He’d crawled for hours, broken and in agony. If I could murder Arkan a hundred times, it would never make up for that.

Alessandro stopped talking. I brushed the tears from my face with my fingertips. “What happened then?”

“There is a field next to the factory. Eventually I crossed it. Someone saw me and called an ambulance. When I woke up in a hospital room, it hit me. I survived. I would see you again. I decided then that I wouldn’t waste this chance.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“It took me some time to recover. Walking was a problem for a while. Holding a fork too. I could grip it, but I couldn’t aim with it. I was training and thinking of what I would say to you. And keeping an eye on Arkan.”

“How?” As long as he kept talking about Arkan . . .

Alessandro smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Arkan types like he wants to punch through the keys. He murders keyboards. His staff orders them in bulk, and I managed to swap one of mine into the lot. It goes dormant until he says specific words, so it’s practically invisible to his bug sweepers. Once a day it sends the recording to one of my email addresses. So I was listening to Arkan run his pack of killers, and then he mentioned your name on a phone call.”

Alessandro leaned forward, focused, cold, lethal. His magic whipped out of him, spilling into a dense, potent current. “I meant what I said, Catalina. I won’t let him touch you.”

“I know.” All of the tension, pain, and anger churned inside me. I couldn’t contain it any longer. I had to let it go or I’d explode.

“Your wings are out.”

My wings had unfurled, ghosting in and out of existence. My magic was leaking. We stared at each other, me with my almost transparent green-and-gold wings and him wrapped in a flow of his power.

“Your turn,” he said. “What did you promise Victoria?”

There was no room for lies on this roof.

“I gave you up,” I told him. My voice sounded flat. The more matter-of-fact I was about this, the easier it would be.

His eyebrows came together. “How?”

“You ran into Diatheke alone to save Runa’s brother and ended up teleporting to Benedict’s secret lab. Augustine was the only one who knew the location of it. I needed information to trade to him, so I went to see my grandmother. She gave me what I needed. In return, I promised her that I would never leave House Baylor. I will never marry into another family like my sister did, Alessandro. My family is my responsibility until I die.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I had this silly fantasy that you would fall in love with me. I knew your family would think I was beneath you, but in my stupid head, somehow it would all work out and we would live together happily ever after. Victoria took that away from me. I don’t regret it. I would’ve given her anything to find you.”

He was looking at me and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I just had to get through this. Once all of this was out and he left, I could let go and cry as much as I wanted.

“I was going to explain all of it to you, but you were already leaving. It crushed me that I meant so little.”

“Catalina—”

“Please let me finish. This is very difficult for me. When I thought about it, I realized that it was better that way. No messy rationalizations. No false promises. Anyway, there is nothing to be done. Even if Victoria dropped dead tomorrow, I would still stay here. I assumed the responsibility for my House. Nevada trusted me with it. I must see it through. I won’t let our family be torn to pieces by our enemies. I can’t.”

There. I’d said it. I’d gotten it all out before we had a chance to be together. Maybe it would hurt less this way.

“I understand,” he said.

“I know your family’s position on marriage. I read the press releases on your three engagements. Your family is looking for a woman from an established House, wealthy, respected, and able to dedicate herself to being the wife of Count Sagredo. I can’t be her.”

A shadow crossed his face. “What the hell does my family have to do with anything?”

“Your family will want you to return. You will leave again, and I’ll stay right here. It will be painful, but it will hurt worse when you marry, because then I’ll know there is no hope. I’ll never be the other woman. It’s all or nothing for me. I can’t have you for a little bit and give you up. I won’t share you.”

His magic was on fire, but he sounded almost cold. “I’m not leaving.”

I clamped my hands together. It helped me keep my voice from breaking. “I understand, Alessandro. You don’t have to lie to me. You don’t have to promise me platitudes to soothe me. I’m not a child.”

He leaped off the rail so fast, I barely saw it. Our magic collided in a sharp electric burst and he crushed me to him.

“I’m not leaving.” His voice was a ragged growl. “I tried, because I can offer you nothing and you deserve so much more. You deserve someone better, but I’m a selfish bastard and I can’t stay away. I can’t give you up.”

He pulled away from me long enough to look at my face. His amber eyes brimmed with magic. He leaned forward. I knew what was about to happen and waiting for it felt like dying. I couldn’t stand it. My body locked, rigid with anticipation. I couldn’t have taken a single step. It lasted less than a second, but it felt like forever.

He dipped his head and kissed me.

A firestorm raged through me, and suddenly I could move again. I threw my arms around him and kissed him back. I had to taste him, or the world would end.

He kissed me like it was the last kiss we would ever have, like I was dying, and he had to bring me back to life. His arms locked around me, his muscles hard like steel. His hand tangled in my hair. His tongue slid into my mouth. I licked him, dying for a taste, and he made this noise low in his throat that made me shiver.

He broke the kiss and longing swept through me like pain. I almost cried out.

His eyes were molten amber. All traces of pretense fled from him, leaving the real man in their place, focused, dangerous, and driven half-insane by a blinding, irresistible want.

“Don’t stop,” I breathed.

“I won’t.”

“Don’t.”

“I promise.” He pulled me to him and kissed me again. My head spun. I melted against his body.

He kissed my lips, my cheek, my neck, his lips warm, gripping me to him, losing himself in me. “I’ll never stop. I’ll never leave.”

“But your family . . .”

“Doesn’t matter. I love you.”

Mine. Alessandro was finally mine.

I grasped the edge of his shirt, peeled it off him, and threw it away. I kissed his perfect chest, his shoulders, his neck. Each taste was a gift. I couldn’t get enough.

He pulled my blouse off me. His hand caught my back. His swordsman calluses rasped against my skin, sending delicious sparks of lust through me. My body howled to be touched. His fingers brushed me and the hooks on my bra came undone. The bra straps sagged off my shoulders, loose. He grabbed my bra and tossed it aside.

The heat of his skin burned my nipples. Alessandro reached into my bun, dragged the hairpin out, and flicked it away. My hair fell on my shoulders.

He sealed his mouth on mine. His hands roamed my body. He dragged his thumb across my right nipple and a soft pulse of pleasure rolled through me. I gasped into his mouth.

He gave me no time to deal with it. His tongue thrust between my lips, seducing, while his hands stroked my back and lower, unzipping my skirt, sliding past the waistband, into my underwear. He cupped my bare butt and pulled my hips to him, grinding against me. The hard length of him pressed into me. An insistent knot of need formed between my legs, impossible to ignore. I wanted him to thrust into it.

He slipped my skirt off my butt with a sure, possessive stroke. He was stripping me bare on the roof and I didn’t care. He smelled of sandalwood, citrus, and vanilla, and there must’ve been magic in it, because I couldn’t get enough.

My skirt and underwear fell to my ankles. I tugged at his pants. He let go of me long enough to yank them off.

Wow.

He raised his hand. His magic flashed. His fingers were holding the small foil packet of a condom. He slid it on, saw my face, and halted. “Do you want to stop?”

I dropped my defenses. Every last barrier chaining me in place collapsed. My magic tore out of me. My wings burst into life, glorious, glittering with peridot and gold.

He stared like he’d been struck with lightning.

Look how much I want you.

I opened my mouth. “Do you want me, Alessandro?”

“God, yes.”

He picked me up, holding me like I weighed nothing, and the magic swirled around us, singing. I buried my hands in his hair and licked his lips.

He spun with me in his arms and then I was on the couch, on my back. He loomed over me and kissed my neck, setting my nerves on fire. Goose bumps broke on my skin. My nipples tightened, begging to be touched. I moaned.

His hands caressed my breasts, stroking, teasing the tight peaks. My breath came out in quick gasps. My nipples were so tight, they hurt.

His mouth closed on my left breast. His tongue licked me, wet and hot, and the sudden surge of pleasure rocked me. I cried out and clamped my hand over my mouth.

He kissed my other breast, kneading me, switching back and forth. His teeth worried my nipple. He sucked again and again. My head was spinning. The knot between my legs pulsed. Hot liquid slicked me. If he kept going, I would come before he ever started.

He slid lower, painting a line of kisses down the center of my stomach. I didn’t know if I wanted to pull him back up to my breasts, or to let him go down.

My body needed more. The wait was unbearable.

His fingers brushed the inside of my thighs, pushing my legs open. I jerked.

He raised his head to look at me. “Have you done this before?”

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

He leaned over me and kissed me again, deep and long. I felt drunk.

“Trust me.” His voice was a rough promise in my ear.

I nipped his jaw.

He made a noise that was half growl, half groan, and moved down. His hands stroked my thighs, his warm skilled fingers caressing, coaxing . . . He lowered his head.

He licked me. A jolt of pure ecstasy flooded me.

He licked me again. Oh my God.

He sucked on the small bundle of nerves, licking, caressing, stroking me. My thoughts dissolved. The knot between my legs tightened, aching, until it was the core of me, impossible to ignore.

Another lick. Another wave of bliss. Again, again, again . . .

I was still empty. I desperately needed more. I knew I was arching my hips and moaning and clawing at his shoulders, but I couldn’t stop. The pleasure was too much.

He slipped his fingers inside me. My body gripped him, and I came. The climax melted over me. The pleasure crested, and crashed, and crested again. I slumped on the couch, soaking in bliss, boneless and happy.

He loomed above me. The blunt head of his cock pressed against me, right where I wanted it most.

He thrust.

Yes. This. This is what I wanted. To be full of him.

Pain flashed through me, quick and sudden. He stopped.

I wrapped my arms around him and arched my hips, sliding more of him in. Alessandro swore.

I arched my back, wound my arms around him, kissed his jaw, and whispered into his ear. “Faster . . .”

He groaned and thrust into me again, the glide of his hard cock turning pain into liquid heat. The ache was still there, a sharp pinch, but I wanted him too much. He thrust into me again. The feeling of his body on mine, the harsh strength in his arms, the way he looked at me, the way his shaft slid into me, all of it was intoxicating bliss. I matched his thrust, molding my body to his.

He pumped into me, hard, fast, exactly how I wanted.

The ache began to build again, demanding, unstoppable. My breath came in ragged gasps. I wound my legs around his hips, trying to take more of him in. He was so big, and I wanted him so much . . .

We moved together as one.

Don’t stop . . . Please don’t stop . . .

Someone moaned and I realized it was me.

He kept going, tireless, his body strong and powerful on top of me. I held on to him, breathless, looking for that dizzying thrill.

Yes, love me, Alessandro. Love me.

He thrust deep. The pressure inside me peaked and broke. I grabbed on to him and lost myself to an orgasm so intense, it was almost blinding.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me, whispering things in my ear in a flurry of Italian. “Ti amo . . .”

“I love you,” I breathed into his ear.

He crushed me to him. I kissed him, shifting my hips, asking for more. He started again, building to a hard, fast rhythm. I gave all of myself to him. Every breath, every gasp, every whimper, all of my heart . . .

His whole body went tight and rigid. I met him again and again, delirious from happiness and need.

A shudder gripped him, and he came with a low groan. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his face, brushing my lips against his skin.

Slowly he withdrew. His eyes were still wild. He slid next me, pulled the blanket over us, and wrapped his arms around me under it. I snuggled close to him, breathless and completely content, my cheek on his chest.

Around us the magic twisted and wound, dancing to the tune only it heard.