Thrown to the Wolves

14. Lyssa

I’m still reelingwhen I get back to the Empire Grand. Scarlett gave a much deeper hit to my foundations than I could let her see.

Grandmother, alive?

No, really—it can’t be. I killed her myself, felt her hot blood slick on my hands as I cut her throat. And yet…Scarlett’s words ring true. A scar around Grandmother’s neck, easy enough for Scarlett to lie about—but the uncanny similarity in her training…

And the vendetta against me.

It all points to one chilling conclusion.

I pace my room, memories of my childhood threatening to break free from the mental prison I’ve locked them in. I’ve never told anyone, ever, about all that.

Not even Hadria.

The endless hours of training, the punishments for failure, the cold, calculating eyes that watched my every move—I buried them deep, but now they clamor for attention, demanding to be acknowledged.

For so long, I thought it was normal. I thought all children went through what I went through—and not just me. There were other girls, too. Older, sometimes. And younger. Sometimes they disappeared. Sometimes new ones appeared. But we were never friends, only rivals.

And Grandmother molded me into a weapon, a tool for her own ambitions. Day after day, year after year, she pushed me to my limits and beyond. Every failure was met with swift, brutal punishment. Every success with nothing more than a shrug of approval.

I learned to crave those shrugs, to live for the rare moments when Grandmother’s lips would even twitch into something resembling a smile. I thought it meant she loved me, in her own twisted way.

But love had no place in Grandmother’s world. Only power, only control. And when I finally realized that, when I finally found used the strength she gave me against her, and broke free…

I thought I had ended her forever.

But now I’m forced to confront the possibility that my past is not as dead as I thought. The idea of Grandmother out there, scheming and manipulating, fills me with a dread I haven’t felt in years.

And Scarlett...the woman who has consumed my thoughts since our first meeting. Despite everything, despite the fact that she wants me dead, I found myself drawn to her.

Was it because I saw a reflection of myself in her? Another lost soul, twisted and turned by Grandmother’s machinations? Or is it something more, this connection I don’t understand?

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I can’t afford to be distracted, not now. Not with Grandmother’s shadow looming over everything.

What this means for the Syndicate…it’s unthinkable. I need to talk to Hadria.

But I need to calm my mind first.

So I head to the training room, naturally, hoping to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of training. The burn of my muscles, the sweat on my brow, the single-minded focus required—it’s always been my escape.

And it works…until I’m interrupted.

Aurora and Marco come in after half an hour, good-naturedly shit-talking each other as they prepare to spar. Aurora smiles at me, her eyes bright with admiration. “Lyssa! I should have known you’d be here.”

I manage a tight smile, my mind still preoccupied with the ghosts of my past.

“Hadria says we’ll have some new recruits soon,” Aurora continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’m sure you’ll whip them into shape in no time.”

Her words trigger a flood of memories. Training Aurora, pushing her to her limits, making her into something she was not, and never should have been. And before her, countless others.

My methods—are they too similar to Grandmother’s? Have I become the very monster I sought to destroy?

The thought chills me. I’ve always prided myself on being different from Grandmother, on being better. But faced with the reality of my own actions, I’m not so sure. The grueling hours, the relentless drills. Did I push the recruits too hard? Did I cross the line from mentor to tormentor?

Faces flash through my mind. Fear in their eyes, bruises on their bodies. At the time, I told myself it was necessary, that I was making them stronger, better.

But maybe I was just perpetuating the cycle of abuse that Grandmother started.

The thought is too much to bear. Abruptly, I turn to Aurora and Marco. “You two can have the room. I have some business to attend to.”

I don’t wait for a response, just about sprinting up to Hadria’s room. I need to talk to her. Now.

But she’s not there. Her door guard tells me she went up to the roof, and that’s where I find her—in the rooftop pool, lazily swimming laps. She’s alone, vulnerable. The sight makes me…

I’m not someone who panics, but this must be what panic feels like, I think.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around without protection,” I call out to her, voice tight with tension. “God, you’re worse than Mrs. G. And a lot of people have good reason to want you dead, Hades.”

Hadria swims lazily to the edge of the pool and looks up at me. “I’m in the heart of Bianchi territory, Lyssa. I’m as safe as can be in this city.”

We’re all getting way too comfortable in my opinion, walking around like we’re untouchable. So I fold my arms and glare down at her. “We need to talk. Outside the hotel.”

Something in my tone must convey the gravity of the situation. Hadria swims rapidly to the ladder and hauls herself out. “I need to shower and dress. Meet me downstairs in fifteen—we’ll go to Elysium.”

We take twin motorbikes, and the ride to the estate passes without me fully registering it, my mind still consumed by the implications of Grandmother’s return. As we pull up to the still-under-construction mansion, passing through the guard house at the gate—still staffed, and always will be, even though the bulk of the Syndicate is elsewhere right now—I’m struck by how different it looks. The previous, imposing Brutalist structure has been razed to the ground. In its place, a modern, light-filled mansion is taking shape.

It’s a fitting metaphor, I suppose. Out with the old, in with the new. A chance to start over, to build something better.

I kind of miss the old place, though.

We don’t go into the house. Instead, we walk to the night garden, Aurora’s pride and joy. Even in the chaos of construction, it’s a tranquil oasis. Hadria takes a moment to check on the plants, ever the dutiful fiancée. “I’ll have to tell Aurora the garden is thriving,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me.

She settles on a stone bench, fixing me with a piercing stare. “Okay. What’s this about?”

And so, for the first time, I tell Hadria everything. My childhood under Grandmother’s brutal reign, the years of abuse disguised as training, the day I finally snapped and slit her throat. I’ve never spoken of it before, not to anyone. But if Grandmother is truly alive, Hadria needs to know the full extent of the threat we face.

“She was a monster, Hadria,” I tell her calmly. “She took me—and others—as a child, broke us down, and rebuilt us in her image. Even me, the one she liked to call her favorite, I was nothing more than a tool to her, a weapon.”

I pause, the memories threatening to overwhelm me again. I haven’t thought about any of this for years. The countless hours of drills, the punishments for even the slightest misstep. The way Grandmother’s eyes would gleam with a sick sort of pride when I finally mastered a new technique.

“I thought I was strong, thought I could handle anything she threw at me. But…” I shake my head, unwilling to voice my thoughts. “When I broke free, when I slit her throat, I thought it was over. I thought I was free. But now, with this Scarlett…what she’s told me about Grandmother, it’s all coming back. And I—I find myself—” I break off.

“Yes?” Hadria prompts. It’s the only word she’s said so far.

“I find myself afraid,” I say slowly, finally identifying that tight knot in my gut. “And I am not used to fear, Hades.”

“No,” she says quietly. “I don’t imagine you are.” She thinks for a moment. “This Scarlett...you said Grandmother sent her to kill you—but it’s also revenge for her brother’s death?”

“That’s what Scarlett believes, at least. But I don’t even know whether I killed her brother or not. It’s a possibility, of course. But it also could be one of Grandmother’s lies, another way to control her.”

Hadria is silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “And what about this Scarlett herself? What do you make of her?”

I hesitate, unsure how to put my conflicted feelings into words. “She’s…a fighter. Determined, relentless. She has a fire in her, Hadria. A fire that Grandmother is looking to use for her own ends.” I swallow hard, my next words difficult to voice. “In a way, Scarlett reminds me of myself. Of who I used to be, before I broke free.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes, along with a warning. “You think you can save her.”

I reach back to tighten my customary ponytail, frustration welling up inside me. “I don’t know. Maybe. But whatever else she is, she’s the key to stopping Grandmother, to ending this once and for all. She’s my way in. And Hades—we have to stop Grandmother. If you want Juno Bianchi at this wedding of yours, we must eliminate her.”

“Is Juno Bianchi even aware of her? I wasn’t, until this moment.”

I fold my arms and give her a hard look. “Whether she is or not is immaterial. I will not allow you to invite the Bianchi Boss to town while Grandmother is out there, uncontained. It would end in disaster.”

She doesn’t really seem to get how dangerous Grandmother is, and Hadria doesn’t like being told what to do, either. But I’m one of the very few people in this whole wide world that she’ll listen to. She stays silent for a long moment, her gaze distant. When she speaks, her voice is cool. “I will have Juno Bianchi at my wedding, Lyssa. So that means we take out this—this Grandmother.”

“Me,” I correct her. “This is my mess.”

She regards me for a moment, and when she speaks her voice is gentle. “You’re not alone anymore, Lyssa. You’re not that little girl on the streets. You have an army behind you if you want it.”

“I know,” I assure her. “I do. But this is… This is something I need to do. Like you and Nero. You get me?”

Her face hardens. She understands exactly what I mean. “I get you. So what’s your first move—where is her HQ?”

That, I’m not sure about. “She’s not stationed where she used to be,” I tell her. “I’ve kept an eye on that place over the years—the one I grew up in. It was out near the docks, but it got sold off and converted into apartment blocks fifteen years ago. But I’ll find her.”

“You could ask Johnny de Luca to nose around. He’s useful for things like that. Knows a lot of people.”

I don’t love the idea of getting anyone from the Bianchi Family involved. Johnny de Luca enjoys doing favors, and he seems to be under instructions to dole them out plentifully to the Syndicate. But the problem with favors is, you end up owing someone. “If I need to, I’ll ask him,” I say, just so she won’t press the matter. “But right now, Scarlett is enough of a lead.”

“This Scarlett,” she begins, her brows drawing together dangerously. “She should be dead already, Lyssa.”

“I need to keep her alive,” I say at once. “For now, anyway. She’s my only link to Grandmother.”

Hadria thinks it over, but in the end she nods. “You can keep the assassin alive, for now. But hear me loud and clear—the moment she’s no more use, she dies. Her crimes against the Syndicate cannot go unanswered. Chicago must remain stable and the Syndicate’s reputation must remain sterling.”

By “sterling,” she means “ruthless, merciless and brutal,” of course. But Scarlett lives. For now.

The thought shouldn’t bring me as much relief as it does.