A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips at our inside joke, but that’s all I can manage. My heart feels like it’s beingwrung out like a wet rag, twisted and squeezed until there’s nothing left.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Valentine stands, his tall frame blocking the light from my floor-to-ceiling windows for a moment. The movement casts shadows across the mellow teal walls, darkening the scattered artwork I’ve painted over the years. He gives me a strange look, one I can’t decipher, before his face cracks into another fatherly smile. Something about it seems forced though.
He moves toward the door with that military precision, clasping his hands behind his back as he pauses at the threshold. “Twenty minutes,” he says, not looking back at me. “I’ll wait.”
The door closes behind him with a soft click. I stare at the space he occupied, the weight of what’s coming pressing down on me like a physical force. I’m left alone with the ghosts of two brothers—one dead, one hunting me.
I reach under my bed for another pocket shot.
CHAPTER SIX
AURELIA
The joint coronation and funeral is a study in contradictions—holy light and darkness. Black suits and dresses fill the Cathedral, the morning light filtering through towering stained glass windows to paint mourners in crimson and gold. Marble saints stare down from their perches with blank eyes, witnessing our hypocrisy, and the gothic arches soar overhead, their shadows stretching across the mosaic floor like fingers.
There’s an edge to the mourning that has nothing to do with Adrian’s death. These vultures aren’t just grieving the loss of a Harrow—they’re mourning the death of their comfortable way of life. Adrian was predictable and familiar like his father. Julian is a wildcard, and his ascension marks the end of an era. No one knows what kind of leader he’ll be, especially since he never planned to take charge.
Will he burn it all down like he always threatened? I can only hope, but I also know Lady Harrow is going tobe involved, and I have no idea what that bitch wants to do with the Inferno Consortium. She could be worse than Lucian.
As I stand at the back of the massive sanctuary behind the carved wooden pews, a shiver runs through me at the thought. I’d never imagined anyone could be worse than Lucian, but the way Lady Harrow has been manipulating all of us foryears… it’s possible.
She really needs to be dealt with. But if I’m the one to kill her, Julian will truly never come back to me.
My mouth is dry, so I swallow, wishing I still had a buzz from the alcohol I had for breakfast. I know Julian’s here somewhere, and I’ve been avoiding locating him with my eyes—my heart aches too much to see him.
God, I just want to leave.
As if my dread summoned a demon, Lady Harrow materializes beside me in black lace, her short dark hair perfectly styled despite the “grief” making her shoulders curve like crescent moons. My stomach lurches at her closeness and the sting of her perfume.
“I still can’t believe my first born is gone,” she says, her words dripping with fake sorrow. She spoke loud enough for people nearby to hear, so a few turn their heads and give her sympathetic glances. When she leans close, though, presumably to air-kiss my cheek as part of her performance, her whispered words slice like a blade. “You’ve lost, dear. Accept it with grace and you might keep living.”
My blood turns to ice, then boils. I want to wrap my hands around her throat and strangle her publicly so everyone in the Consortium knows never to fuck with meagain. Iwantto make her pay for every drop of Adrian’s blood she spilled, but that would be a death sentence right now, so I force my lips into a brittle smile.
“We’ll see,” I whisper back.
Valentine is suddenly behind me, and his hand on my elbow steers me away before I do something stupid like stab Lady Harrow with my stiletto. We approach the front of the room where Adrian’s casket waits, but I stop abruptly, like I just hit wet concrete and my feet are sinking in.
“You should pay your respects,” Valentine encourages me softly.
I should. I know. I should be focused on my own performance today in front of these wolves, so they’ll stop spreading lies about me. But the clear glass walls of the casket make my skin crawl. I’ve seen these things before at other Consortium funerals—they’re meant to show off the mortician’s skill without allowing anyone to weep on the corpse and “ruin” it. It’s also a way to prove no one tried to fake their death by showing more of the body. But there’s something deeply unsettling about seeing Adrian preserved in a glass case like some macabre museum display.
“Come now! Come see the once powerful Harrow heir, who was gunned down by his own mother! Then we’ll visit the gift shop where you can purchase a vial of his spilled blood.”
My lips pinch together as I try not to sob. This entire thing is a fucking circus. Does anyone besides me and Julian really care that Adrian isdead?
Valentine tries to guide me closer a few inches but I refuse to budge. There’s a red velvet rope that keepsmourners at a safe distance so they don’t break the glass, but I can still see Adrian clearly enough from here. Too clearly. His skin is waxy, drained of all color; he looks like a taxidermy creature, minus the fur. Those hands that once brought me flowers even after nights he was likely off fucking some whore… they’re stiff now. Lifeless. One rests near the glass wall, and I can’t stop staring, remembering how gentle those fingers could be.
I stand there like a statue until a chime sounds, signaling the Catholic mass. Valentine guides me to a pew near the back, and we take our seats. Finally, I look around at all the faces I’ve spent so many nights investigating, uncovering all their dirty secrets so I could figure out who wronged my mother.
Power radiates from every row—the DeMarco’s remaining family members who control South Seattle’s drug distribution network, the Whitman’s with their underground gambling empire, the Martinelli’s who enjoy laundering money through overpriced art auctions. I also spot Victoria Marlowe’s surviving family members, their faces pinched with calculation as they scan the room; they’re the second most powerful family here, running their corruption ring that keeps law enforcement firmly in their pocket. And the Harrows, though small in numbers now, run import/export companies that provide the perfect front for smuggling anything into the country, hiding the true darkness of what the Inferno Consortium does behind legitimate business. All of them are here to “mourn” Adrian while actually networking and positioning themselves for whatever comes next.
Movement catches my eye. Across the vast space, Julian’s stare pins me like a knife to the wall.
My breath catches. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night, since his hands were around my throat and grief turned him into someone I didn’t recognize. The intensity of his gaze singes my skin, almost like he’s undressing me in his thoughts. But I know it’s more violent than that—he’s probably thinking about peeling the flesh from my bones in satisfaction.
I can’t look away. The familiar angles of his face twist something deep in my chest until I can barely breathe. He knows every part of me, every desire, every curve of my naked body. He’s done things to me I can’t even speak about, and all I want is to go back to the past and erase this torment. If I could just go back and stop Lady Harrow, I’d be in Julian’s bed right now, letting him fuck me however he pleases.
