Chapter 15 Mara
FIFTEEN
MARA
My leg bounces erratically under the table at the coffee shop, my boot heel tapping in a frantic rhythm, my hands wrapped around a mug that’s gone lukewarm.
He said he would be here twenty minutes ago.
The boys wouldn’t truly let me go alone. Not after the last time I saw Valen, when he put a gun to my head and Jasper had to intervene. Which is why CJ is in the corner, pretending to read a book while keeping his gaze on me. I can’t say I blame the boys, but they need to trust me.
The bell chimes, the wind howling as snow and Valen both enter the small shop. He is ruinously beautiful, wrapped tightly in a wool coat, his hair tousled wild and his storm-gray eyes softening the moment they land on me.
He weaves through the scattered tables, dodging a barista with a tray of steaming lattes, and slides into the booth across from me. “Hello, Mara. I see you chose somewhere public today.”
“Last time we were in private, you put a gun to my head.”
His smile falters. Just barely.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t worry, I clocked CJ the second I walked in.
Guy’s about as subtle as a brick. You wanted to talk—here I am.
” He flags the barista and orders a black coffee with no sugar.
“If you think I’m going to apologize to you for doing what was right, then we are wasting our time here. ”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Your dad.” I pause and wait for his facial expression. “Your real one, not the decoy. Is he running the Syndicate?”
The warmth drains instantly, face shuttering like storm clouds swallowing sun.
Denial flashes in his gaze. “Jesus, Mara. Where’s this coming from?
” He leans back, arms crossing loosely in front of his chest. “Loud. Blond. Tech bro who laughs too hard at his own jokes. You really think that man runs an international criminal network?”
“He doesn’t look like you,” I say.
He tries to change the subject. “You’re seeing monsters because your new ones are whispering in your ear. Talon? Dredyn? Jasper? They’re making you paranoid—isolating you. Mara, that’s textbook toxic behavior.”
Anger flares hot with a possessive defense for the boys.
I lean forward, grabbing his wrist hard from across the table.
His pulse leaps rabbit-fast under thumb.
“You don’t get to diagnose anyone after aiming a gun at me.
We were eight when you told me about Victoria, your twin sister.
You made me swear to be silent with a pinky promise under the oak tree. ”
His breath catches, just once.
“She’s dead now,” I continue. “And everyone keeps telling me different stories. Delta Sigma Nu. A jealous frat boy. A convenient scapegoat.” I tighten my grip. “But the Syndicate prunes rebellious daughters, Valen. Victoria. Evie. Xana. And me... if I don’t play pawn for long enough.”
My voice shakes, but I don’t stop. “This isn’t about your father being evil. It’s the system. And it kills women who don’t obey.”
He exhales slowly, like he’s reassembling himself piece by piece.
“It was Delta Sigma Nu,” he says, finally. “A frat officer. He wanted leverage. He’s in custody.”
“Yours?”
“Yes. Mine. I’ll handle it. Clean. Soon.”
“Who the fuck is your father? Tell me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand what it’s like being hunted by men who judge you. Who view you as meat rather than a person.”
I search his face, desperate for a crack—c’mon just give me something real—but his beautiful, stupid mask is locked tighter than steel.
“Why the lies? Why does the Syndicate have to puppet-master everything? When does it end?”
He stares at me for a long moment, then says, “It’s an oligarchy.”
I scoff. “I don’t have time for a civics lesson.”
“Three men—DSN, OCK. PTO. Three bloodlines, three empires. They all vote. They trade favors. They bury mistakes.”
My hands go numb.
“My father is one of them. Dayton Hughes’s father was DSN, but was murdered when we were kids. I don’t know who replaced him, yet. And one of the OCK officers’ fathers holds the third seat. All three have to die. That’s the only way it ends.”
I swallow. “You want to be king.”
“I want to dismantle it before it eats any more people.”
His voice fractures. Not much, but enough.
“Not want... need,” he snaps, eyes flashing with something haunted.
“I’ve only recently found out the depths of it.
Human trafficking, Mara—rampant, behind the scenes.
My father’s been ‘opening my eyes’ … grooming me, really.
Showing me the operations, the ledgers, the lives they’ve ruined.
It’s not just power plays and frat rivalries anymore.
It’s people being bought and sold like commodities.
I don’t want you anywhere near this, it’s too dangerous.
But... if you could help, subtly... sniff out which OCK guy’s father is the leader.
Jasper, Dredyn, Talon—they probably know about their dads’ connections, or at least suspect.
Get close without raising alarms. You’re already in their beds. Use that.”
I recoil, the implication stinging like a slap. “You want me to spy on them? For you? After everything?”
He grips my hand now, reversing the hold, his fingers warm and insistent. “Not for me, for us—to end it. But stay safe, Mara. Don’t push too hard.”
My chest tightens.
“I don’t know who to trust,” I say.
“You’re starting to sound like me.”
Unease gnaws at me, so I stand up from the table. “I have to go.”
“The Syndicate will back off for now. My father’s distracted—other fires. But President Black? He won’t like his daughter wandering campus unsupervised.”
CJ is at my side in seconds.
I don’t look back at Valen as I leave.
But his words cling to me all the way to the safe house.
Three fathers.
Three monsters.
And the men I love might be their sons.
I don’t know who to trust.