Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Crying.

Someone is crying.

I’m in a big, empty room. Shadowy figures move around me, but none of the shapes have enough form to be recognizable. I’m alone, but not alone.

Invisible, maybe.

My fingers tighten around the stuffed elephant in my hands, gripping its large ears. The stuffed animal’s fur is dingy and it’s missing an eye, but I cling to it like it’s valuable anyway.

It is.

To me.

To him.

He’ll want it back.

The crying gets louder, so loud that it makes my skin prickle and my heart race. I look around at the shadowed, formless figures around me, wondering why none of them are doing anything. They’re the ones who can. They’re the ones who have the power to fix this.

But they make no move, and the crying continues. It goes on and on—until suddenly, it stops. And I realize with a flash of dread that that’s worse.

Because that means he’s gone.

I clutch the little elephant, holding it tight to my chest.

It’s all I have left.

I jolt awake, my heart racing as half-remembered images flit through my mind.

Fuck.

With a low groan, I roll over onto my side, curling up into a ball. Despite the fact that things are changing between all of us, I haven’t had the guts to beg Theo to sleep in the guest room with me again—or to crawl into bed with him in his room. And right now, I really fucking wish I had.

I pull the blankets higher, tugging them up until they’re all the way over my head. Darkness envelops me, and I blink into it, trying to calm my racing pulse.

For the past several nights, I’ve had new, strange dreams instead of the usual fragmented memories of the night I was shot.

I don’t like it. The new dreams don’t make any sense. There’s nothing outwardly all that upsetting about them, but I always wake up in a cold sweat or on the verge of tears without knowing why.

And I also don’t like that Marcus has stopped appearing in my dreams. I don’t believe in signs from the universe, and I remind myself of that frequently, but his disappearance from my dreams worries me in a weird way. As if his energy has ceased to exist.

That’s bullshit, Ayla. I clench my teeth, mentally chastising myself. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just your mind dealing with trauma.

I lie in bed for a while longer, distracting myself from the lingering terror of the dream by going over my mental roster of players in the game. I’ll be meeting most of them for the first time tonight, at Luca D’Addario’s party, and I want to be ready.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this. According to the guys, he throws a party about once or twice a year, often falling within a month or less of the most recent bloodshed. It’s a chance for people to realign themselves as the fallout from the period of violence settles, and a chance for Luca to evaluate his chosen competitors.

Everyone involved in the game will be there, as well as other wealthy or connected members of the Halston elite.

I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it, to be honest.

On the one hand, it could give the guys and me a chance to start maneuvering for power—we’ve decided to go after Adrian first since he seems the least connected to other players, which makes him the most vulnerable.

But on the other hand, despite Theo’s insistence that I’ve got a knack for this kind of thing, I’m not sure how good I’ll be at playing the political games.

I’m used to saying what I mean, if I say anything at all, and the idea of having to cover ugly truths with pretty lies like these people all do sets my teeth on edge.

Will Marcus’s parents be there? If I meet them, will I be able to keep my mouth shut? There’s a lot I want to say to both of them, and none of it is good.

My mind starts to wander as my head clears, the dream dissipating into nothingness. I doze in bed for a while longer before getting up. In the early afternoon, Ryland takes me to get a dress. Unlike the clothes that just showed up in the guest room closet for me, they want me to pick this one out myself.

He takes me to an expensive as fuck boutique in downtown Halston, and intimidates the fuck out of the saleswoman as he waits for me with folded arms, his expression impassive. Or at least, it’s impassive until I step out of the dressing room. Then hunger infuses his features, the heat between us flaring so strongly that the saleswoman flushes and stammers some excuse before making herself scarce.

Ryland strides forward to meet me, reaching out to run his knuckles along my bare arm and leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. The dress is a backless design, made of a deep royal blue fabric. It hugs my breasts and waist before trailing softly down to the floor, just hinting at the shape of my legs beneath. It’s sexy but understated, and its thin straps show off every one of my old wounds, which is just what I want.

I want everyone I meet tonight to know they’re dealing with a warrior.

Let them see my fucking battle scars.

“Fuck, Ayla.” Ryland’s voice is hoarse. “You look…”

He shakes his head, like he can’t come up with the right word to describe it. But he doesn’t need to. The burning heat in his eyes tells me plenty.

“Thanks.” I shiver as he drags his hand back up my arm, brushing his fingertips over my bare collarbone. My pussy clenches, heat pooling low in my belly.

I didn’t look at the price tag for this dress when I slipped it on because Ryland told me not to, but now that I know it’s a winner, I can’t resist glancing down at the tag. As I read the number, my heart skips a beat.

Holy fuck.

I stiffen, stepping away from him. “Jesus, Ryland. I can’t. This is way too much. I could buy a hundred other dresses for this price.”

He follows my movement, closing the space between us again as his fingers lift my chin slightly. Desire still sparks in his eyes, but there’s something else there too now.

Possessiveness.

Pride.

“A hundred other dresses wouldn’t fit you like this one,” he murmurs softly. “This is the one.”

I swallow, fighting down the surge of emotions that rises in my chest. I’ve never had someone spend this much money on me before. Not by a long shot. But more than that, I’ve never had someone take care of me before—not until Marcus, Ryland, and Theo came into my life.

It’s a foreign feeling, and one that goes against everything I’ve taught myself to believe. But I’m slowly learning to trust it. To accept it.

After all, I fought tooth and nail with Ryland to get him to let me help the men in their dangerous game. I want to take care of them too.

And maybe that’s not a bad thing.

I step forward, tilting my face up a little more and going onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. His grip on my chin tightens slightly, holding me in place as the kiss turns hungry and hard for a second. Then he releases me and steps back, scanning my body one more time as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’ll be the most gorgeous woman there.”

After he hunts down the flustered saleswoman and pays for the dress, we head back to Theo’s house to get ready.

As I shower, dry my hair, and dress, I wonder idly how much time Ryland spent over here before all of this, or how much time the two of them spent at Marcus’s house. I know they all have keys to each other’s places, trusted to come and go as they please. Did they ever think about just getting one place? A large house they could share?

I know we’re all still reeling from the trauma of Marcus’s disappearance, clinging to each other more tightly because of it, but the idea of Ryland not living here right now seems nonsensical.

We need to be together. To stick close by each other.

At seven, Theo comes upstairs to collect me. His reaction to the dress I picked out is similar to Ryland’s, and I flush all over again as he devours me with his gaze.

He doesn’t look half-bad himself. He’s wearing a tuxedo tonight, a sign that Luca D’Addario’s party is a more formal affair than the wake we attended last weekend. It makes him look polished and sharp, the crisp lines of his tux a beautiful contrast to the easy half-smile on his face. His eyes are still darker than usual, signs of strain still evident on his face, but I’m starting to notice it less and less—as if it’s simply become our new normal, a running constant that all three of us have to find a way to live with.

“Goddamn, Rose.” He shakes his head, looking at me with something almost like awe. “You’re fucking stunning.”

I’ve never had a low self-image when it comes to my appearance. Not because I think I’m some head-turning beauty, but because I like the way I look. I get self-conscious about my arm sometimes, but that’s part of why I got my tattoo—so I could find the beauty in my broken parts again.

Guys used to hit on me at Duke’s fairly often, and I always brushed them off. I never needed a man to tell me I was beautiful, and I tended not to believe overblown declarations of how “gorgeous” or “unique” I looked.

But the way Theo’s gazing at me right now?

It flips my heart inside out.

It makes me feel like I truly am stunning, in a way that goes far beyond physical appearance. Like he’s looking at the whole of me, my inside and outside, and can’t fucking believe how lucky he is.

My stomach dips, and I step forward, resting my hand on his chest as I kiss him softly. He hums against my lips—a warm, satisfied sound that travels through me like a shot of good tequila.

When we break apart, his blue-green eyes have lightened a little. He grins, making a small dimple appear in one cheek. “You ready for this?”

“To go to a party with a bunch of people who want to kill you?” I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

He actually laughs at that. It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh in days, and although the sound is a little strange, it’s good to know he still can.

We meet Ryland downstairs, and the three of us pile into the car. I expect Theo to head toward Halston’s downtown, where the fanciest clubs and restaurants I know of are, but instead he drives west, taking us outside the city limits.

When we drive up to a mansion that dwarfs anything I’ve ever seen in my life, I crane my neck to peer out the window. “Holy motherfucker. Is this where Luca lives?”

“It’s one of his places, yeah. I don’t know if he lives here or somewhere else, but he’s hosted parties here before,” Theo says.

I blink, working hard to keep my jaw from dropping. I’ve never seen luxury like this before. A large, ornate fountain sits in the center of the circle drive, and the mansion itself is massive. It’s a visceral reminder of everything that’s at stake here, what all the players in the game are competing for.

This is the future for whoever wins.

A valet takes the keys from Theo when we pull to a stop and get out, and as the car rolls away down the drive, the two men come to stand on either side of me, sandwiching me between them as we all look up at the house.

Nerves make my stomach pitch, but I stoically ignore them. If I feel out of my depth, I’ll act out of my depth, and we can’t afford to show any weakness here. We’ve got a target—Adrian Reyes—and if we can walk away from the party tonight with him in our pocket, we’ll be one step closer to ending this fucking thing.

The silky fabric of my dress swishes around my legs as we walk up the wide marble steps to the massive double doors that lead into the house. It feels a little like walking into a palace, which I’m sure isn’t an accident. Luca D’Addario is the king here, and he obviously wants everyone to remember that.

The inside of the mansion is just as insanely elaborate as the outside, but I’m careful to keep my head from swiveling around as a guy who I guess is the butler leads us deeper into the house.

When we step into a sweeping ballroom, soft orchestral music greets us, courtesy of live musicians. It’s a barely audible backdrop against the buzz of conversation that fills the space as people gather in small clusters or move through the crowd.

It’s packed. Clearly, a lot more people than just the families involved in the competition were invited, and my gaze sweeps the crowd, searching for familiar faces from the church.

When I catch sight of a man with ash-brown hair and a haughty sort of face, I do a double-take. Then I blink slowly.

“Is that…?”

“Jeffrey Purcell. Carson’s dad. Yeah.” Theo nods, his gaze tracking mine.

“What’s he doing here?”

I can’t hide the shock in my voice. Less than two weeks ago, that man buried his son. And unlike the Constantines, there was no room for doubt or even a fraction of hope. I saw Carson’s body. And now he’s at a party hosted by the man who started this whole thing?

“Carson isn’t even in the game anymore,” I add, pulling my gaze away from the middle-aged man and glancing from Theo to Ryland. “What possible reason could his father have to be here? There’s nothing left for him to win. He lost.”

Ryland’s brows pull together. “Is that Sadie?”

I look back toward Jeffrey Purcell just as he takes the elbow of a young woman. The family resemblance between them is so strong that I’m sure she has to be his daughter, and she looks maybe seventeen or eighteen, tops.

“Yeah, it is.” Theo’s voice hardens. “He’s not going to—”

“Like hell he isn’t. Watch.”

I don’t get what they’re talking about, but I do what Ryland says and just watch. Jeffrey and Sadie are joined by an older woman who must be her mother, and the three of them make their way through the crowd in a tight knot. Jeffrey and his wife both wear stoic, determined looks, but Sadie looks miserable. Awkward and uncomfortable and… terrified.

When they’re about halfway across the ballroom, they stop in front of a man who’s holding a glass of amber liquid casually in one hand. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that’s just beginning to show streaks of gray at the temples. He’s got to be in his late fifties, but there’s something striking and vital about him, a power that makes him seem almost ageless.

The way he carries himself makes me certain I know who he is even before Ryland leans a little closer and murmurs in my ear, “Luca D’Addario.”

I nod, my gaze transfixed on the scene playing out across the room as Jeffrey steps forward to greet the dark-haired man. Luca nods and says something in response, then turns to greet the two women. After a moment of quiet conversation, Jeffrey tugs Sadie forward. She moves hesitantly, and even from this distance, I can see her eyes shifting from side to side as if she’s looking for a way to flee.

Jeffrey speaks again, his expression turning earnest and his gestures becoming more emphatic. Ryland makes an angry noise low in his throat, and the three of us watch as Luca raises a hand, cutting the other man off.

“What’s he doing? What’s going on?” I ask in a low voice as Luca speaks to Jeffrey and his wife, all but ignoring Sadie. The casual ease in the tall man’s body is gone, and he seems even taller now as his face settles into hard lines.

“Well, if my guess is right, Carson’s dad just tried to sub in a second string player.” Theo snorts, sounding angry. “And Luca didn’t go for it.”

“Wait, you mean he tried to put Sadie in the game as a replacement for Carson?” I turn to gape at him. “What the actual fuck?”

Beyond the fact that such a move obviously violates the rules of the game, it’s heartless to a degree I can barely comprehend. He just lost a son, and instead of mourning that loss, he’s offering up his daughter on the same altar, praying for one more chance to win.

“Jesus,” I mutter, nausea churning my stomach. Every time I think I’m getting used to this world, the level of depravity shocks me all over again.

“Yeah.” Ryland’s voice is hard. “And you can bet your ass it wasn’t Sadie’s goddamn idea. She looks like she’s about to piss her fuckin’ pants.”

He’s right. And I understand now why she looked so desperate to escape earlier. She must have a stronger sense of duty than I ever will to be able to stand there like that while her father tries to use her as a pawn.

Luca gives a sharp jerk of his head, a clear sign of dismissal, and the Purcell family all turn and walk away, cutting across the crowded ballroom. Sadie looks like she could cry, and I hope like hell it’s out of relief and not because her dad will take the failure of his little scheme out on her.

This needs to end.

The thought rises up in my mind, strong and more clear than it’s ever been. This ruthless, cruel game needs to come to a close before more innocent people get swept up in the violence and manipulation and greed.

“Okay.” I shake my head slightly to clear it, dragging my gaze away from Sadie Purcell’s retreating back. “Let’s get to fucking work. I want this night to be worth it.”

Theo shoots me that look of quiet pride I’m starting to recognize, then nods, grinning lightly. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Determination fills me as I spin in a slow circle, searching the crowd around us for any sign of Adrian.

I don’t see him on my first pass, so I start to scan the crowd again. But when my gaze drifts over the entrance to the ballroom, my entire body freezes.

My heart freezes.

My lungs freeze.

My skin flushes hot and then goes ice cold.

Earth and air.

At least ten yards separate us, but I can still pick out the sky blue and rich brown color that complement each other so beautifully. The man’s gaze settles on mine, and my entire world shifts on its axis.

Marcus.