Chapter Eleven
Phoenix
Every action had a reaction.
And consequence.
That’s what I was staring at right now.
Blonde hair, the same green eyes I saw every time I looked in a mirror, shared DNA, and an expression so tight, I could taste her anger.
I chose her legal name. “Maila.”
My sister.
Who, until a month ago, thought I was dead. Not that I blamed her.
Calm, steady, slightly deeper than I remembered, Maila “Emmy” Marie Nilsen spoke with practiced composure. “They buried a casket at Arlington. There was a funeral service.”
I kept my tone even. “You didn’t attend.”
Poised, wearing a tailored dress and heels, standing in the glass-walled conference room on the top floor of a Miami Beach high-rise that housed Alpha Elite Security, her posture stiffened. “What do you want?”
Leading up to this moment, I’d wanted a lot of things. Clemency. Tolerance. Absolution—if I was lucky.
Now, standing in front of the product of my actions, momentarily questioning my plan as I watched the morning sunlight hit her face like it used to when we were kids, I couldn’t answer.
Instead, I nodded toward her husband in the hall.
“You married him.” I’d told Alpha to take care of her.
Not make her his wife. Not that I had a right to say shit about a single aspect of either of their lives.
“You didn’t take his last name, though.”
“I’m not discussing Adam or my life with you.”
Standing outside his office door, watching me like a hawk, keeping my sister in his peripheral, I knew Alpha would put a bullet through my skull if I so much as breathed wrong right now.
Good.
In truth, before two months ago, I would’ve let him take the shot if he drew. It’d be better than seeing the happy little sister I’d practically raised as the woman she was now.
Switching tactics, I heartlessly aimed at the psychology of family and sowed the seed.
“The Vice Admiral would’ve wanted us to work together.
” I would never again call him our father.
Nor did he deserve to have his given name spoken—not by me.
What he’d done, how he’d manipulated everyone, it wasn’t honor. It was fucking unconscionable.
“You mean Dad.”
I’d said what I’d meant. “I’m coming in.”
“Is that supposed to make me happy? Welcome you with open arms? Tell you I missed you and I’m glad you’re not dead?”
Every word out of her mouth had Alpha moving a step toward us.
I held up my hand to him, but I didn’t take my eyes off Maila. “This is between me and my sister.”
“The fuck it is.” Bypassing me, he didn’t only flank her, Alpha put a hand on her nape.
It was possessive, protective, and if I wasn’t fucking livid at a dead man, I’d admit it was also as it should be. But I didn’t have time for anger or any other useless sentiments.
My gaze locked, I spoke to my sister. “The Vice Admiral orchestrated the trajectory of our careers since the day we were born.”
“Careers,” she stated, but I heard the condescension.
“As it were.” Since she had to know by now that we’d never had a choice over past events, I continued. “I have a different proposition.” Because now we did have a choice.
Maila said, “I’m not interested,” the same time Alpha said, “You have five minutes.”
She glanced up at him.
He looked down at her.
The silent communication they’d always had passed between them, and memories of emotions I no longer knew how to feel filtered through my head in an inconsequential list. Jealously, want, resentment, rage, condemnation.
Observing, calculating, I waited.
Maila exhaled.
Alpha read her deferment.
Then he glanced at me. “What are you proposing?”