17. Anastasia
Inever thought I’d be able to say I sat with Silas Balenheizer across from Alistair Lanshall in the office only the most trusted of his people have ever been in.
What I don’t expect is for Kenna to be sitting with Alistair on the long sofa opposite ours. At least, her body’s here, but it’s as if she left her mind behind. She’s dressed in a stunning, modest purple dinner dress, leg crossed toward Alistair. I wonder if he’s asked her to be here to make himself seem like a man of honor and respect despite what he does to other women.
Alistair has been charming Silas, but I know it’s only simmering the rage he came in here with. I’m trying to play my part, as wrong as it feels. I smile fondly at Silas, turning into him, and occasionally brush the hair at his nape while his hand lies on my thigh. We’re the perfect show of an enamored couple.
“She made a convincing case to see you,” Silas says. He smokes a cigar this time, gifted by Alistair. I decide I hate the scent of those far more than cigarettes.
“Anastasia is in every way America’s Darling,” Alistair appraises.
“Don’t feel the need to flatter me,” I say. It’s an effort not to stiffen every time I meet eyes with Silas. “We’re just looking forward to growing our empires together, aren’t we?”
He hears my hidden meaning, giving a wicked curve of his mouth.
“As long as I have you,” he says.
Kenna has barely looked at us. Alistair lays a hand on her thigh like our affection inspires him. When it climbs a fraction higher, my fingers thread and tighten in the back of Silas’s hair. My pulse skips, but it’s as if I can feel him humming with an impulse to tear Alistair’s hand from her body this second. Literally.
A muscle in his jaw works, and he gives me a pained smile, patting my thigh. His signal that his bloodlust is tamed for now.
“Why don’t you ladies give us a moment to discuss serious matters?” Silas says.
He’s only saying this because he wants me to follow Kenna. I’m not looking forward to this confrontation. Getting any information from a spy who’s trained for a decade is impossible.
Kenna doesn’t miss a beat, heading out without a glance at us, and I stand too, trying not to balk under Alistair’s scrutiny as I leave.
Letting Kenna out of my sight for a second is enough for her to vanish. I don’t even hear the resounding click of her heels, and I was only seconds behind her.
I’m skipping around this ridiculously big, stupid forest home like a new guest about to wet her pants with no directions to the bathroom. I can’t miss this chance again. Silas is so close to dropping me in his plan, and I can’t. Lose. Him.
My heart tumbles out of my ass with the relief of spotting her outside an open set of balcony doors. I approach tentatively, as if she’s a raven that could fly away, as she’s perched on the thin railing, shoes off, swinging her legs. She blows out a cloud of smoke from her cigarette, and I almost feel bad to disrupt her seemingly rare moment of peace. It’s as if no one is watching.
“I know you’re there,” she says, bored.
I step out. I don’t know how she has the confidence to balance there. The drop is far down into a ravine, with this side of the house on the edge of a small cliff.
“You didn’t tell me you were involved with Alistair like that,” I say carefully.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Is that why you brush off Silas?”
She huffs a laugh with bitter notes and shakes her head in mock amusement. “Silas is nothing more than an arrogant ass who thinks he’s owed what he sees. He’s just like the rest of them.”
“You said you were only fifteen when you came here ... Did he?—?”
“Did he wait until I was at least of an age to consent, even if still illegal, before he fucked me?”
I wince. Inside my stomach turns to liquid at the thought. But I’m getting the sense Kenna would be repelled by my pity.
“He could help, you know,” I say delicately.
Kenna doesn’t snap. Doesn’t outrage. It’s worse ... because she shows nothing at all. She merely takes another long inhale of her cigarette and closes her eyes on the exhale.
“I’m not in need of saving. Not like you.”
“How old were you?”
“Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Rhett is alive,” I whisper.
I don’t think she hears me. My heart is pounding so hard in my ears I hardly hear it myself, and my head whips around at my reckless words, terrified one of Alistair’s men is close enough. We’re alone, and in my distraction I turn back and gasp as Kenna spins her legs around, hops off the railing, and steps into me in the space of a breath. At the same time she reaches to her thigh, plucking a small dagger out from a concealed sheath.
“You far surpass my expectations of how much of a pining fool you are,” she hisses, her minty, smoky breath fanning my face.
“Alistair never told you,” I say.
She doesn’t believe me. “Because it’s not true. He’s been waiting to kill that son of a bitch for years. He’s fucking gone.”
I’m hyper-aware of the lethal blade at my throat.
“He’s not. Alistair has been holding him somewhere.”
Kenna laughs, haughty and sinister.
“You desperate idiot,” she mutters.
“You don’t have to defend him anymore. We’re going to find Rhett, and we can keep you safe.”
“We?”
I don’t confirm my alliance with Silas. How this meeting is just a ruse, and the intent is to recruit her, not Alistair.
“We came for you,” I say, barely a whisper when it might be the stone that trips the explosives she’s crafted around herself.
But Kenna blinks as if she hears four words of another language instead. As though they’re both utterly indigestible, but still, she’s said them to herself a hundred times. Maybe in a dozen variations. Her press against me slackens.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she says, voice devoid of any emotion, and I stare at the ghost of her. Wherever she’s gone, it’s familiar to her. Cold and detached, but her only safety.
Her blade scratches under my chin as she steps away, eyes unblinking as she says, “Absolutely everything is legal to him. He didn’t wait.”
My heart shatters as she confirms the worst of what I feared for her.
“He didn’t wait. Rhett knew about it, and he left me here anyway.”