23. Maxwell
23
MAXWELL
I sabel is finally out of her cave.
She looks different. Not physically—physically, she’s still a walking contradiction of defiance and hesitation, like she can’t decide if she wants to stab me or crawl into my lap. But emotionally, there’s a clear shift.
The fire in her eyes isn’t just anger anymore.
Isabel stands there, stiff-backed and scowling, her hands curled into fists at her sides like she’s bracing for a fight, like we didn’t already break her open and see what’s inside.
I wonder if she hates herself for it…
If she hates us more.
She doesn’t answer me right away, which is fine. I like watching her squirm.
Instead , she drags a deep breath in through her nose and steps forward, shoving a notebook onto the kitchen island like it personally offended her. The slap of paper against marble echoes through the open space, but none of us startle.
She’s the only one with something to prove.
I stretch my arms out further behind my head, letting my fingers lace together as I sprawl deeper into the couch just as Julian takes a break from inking my skin. “ Well , well. The dead rises.”
“ I want in,” Isabel blurts out.
I let my eyes drag lazily over her, taking in the way her sweater hangs off her frame, the joggers barely clinging to her hips. She covered up this time, hiding the body I’ve already memorized, but it doesn’t matter.
I know what’s underneath.
“ Into what, Starling ?” I ask, feigning boredom.
Her glare sharpens. “ Don’t play dumb.”
I flash a grin. “ But it’s so fun.”
Theodore sighs from his chair, already looking like he regrets letting me speak. Julian doesn’t acknowledge her at all, too focused on the piece he’s working on, but I can tell he’s listening.
Isabel’s jaw clenches. “ I want to help.”
I exhale a short laugh, shaking my head. “ That’s cute.”
Her glare sharpens, but I don’t let her get a word in before I continue, voice dripping with amusement. “ You sure you don’t just want a new tattoo?” I drag my hand down my torso. “ I was told you were pretty interested in Julian’s work last time.”
Her nostrils flare. “ That’s not what I meant.”
I grin. “ Shame . It would’ve been nice to brand you that way.” I glance at Julian , who’s still focused on my skin but not oblivious to the game I’m playing. “ Right , Juju ?”
He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
I push further, just to watch the heat creep up her neck. “ But it’s okay, Starling . We can find other ways to mark you as our own.”
Isabel’s breath stutters for half a second, and then she folds her arms, jaw set.
Theodore finally moves, reaching for the notebook. He flips it open, skimming her words. “ So you’ve finally come to your senses.”
Her chin lifts. “ I can expose them. And your father.”
“ Very well, then. Tomorrow , you shall accompany us to your old workplace.”
Isabel scoffs. “ You sound like an aristocratic asshole.” Then , she blinks. Once . Twice . “ Wait … what?”
I smirk at the way her eyes widen, at the slight hitch in her breath. She wasn’t expecting that.
Theodore chuckles, closing the notebook. “ You thought we’d keep you locked away forever?”
Isabel’s mouth opens then shuts. She looks between the three of us, like she’s waiting for the punchline. “ You’re letting me leave?”
“ With supervision, of course.”
“ Of course,” she echoes, still clearly stunned. Then , something in her expression shifts. Her brows knit, suspicion creeping in. “ Wait … what do you mean, old job?”
I let out a quiet laugh. “ Do you really think you’re still an employee of Vanguard ?”
Her arms tighten around herself. “ Why not?”
Theodore leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “ Because you work personally for us now.”
“ Excuse me?” Isabel exclaims.
I hum, enjoying every second of this. “ You wanted to help, didn’t you?”
“ Yes , but?—”
“ No buts,” I interrupt. “ After the stunt Valeria pulled, you’re already on the council’s radar, Isabel . And if you think we’re letting you out of our sight just to go running back to her, you’re not as smart as I thought.”
Her lips press into a thin line. She wants to argue. I can see it in the way her hands twitch, the way her nails dig into her arms, like she’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Julian lifts his gaze from my tattoo. “ Be ready by nine tomorrow morning,” he tells her simply. “ You’ll be riding with me.”
He then grabs a paper towel, dousing it with green soap before swiping it over the fresh ink on my skin. The sting is a sharp, satisfying burn, and I hiss through my teeth.
I tilt my head, admiring Julian’s latest masterpiece. It’s flawless. He freestyled the design—something he has done for me before—but this one feels poetic.
A skull grins up at me, wide and maniacal, its teeth exaggerated into sharp points. One hollow eye socket is stretched into something almost comically large, the other crossed out like a dead cartoon character. A jester’s hat sits crooked on its head, the fabric torn, bells hanging from the ends, as if they’ve long since rusted silent. Below the skull, in sharp, looping script, are the words: Laugh while you can .
“ Quit squirming,” Julian mumbles.
I smirk, tilting my head back against the couch. “ Who’s squirming? I’m savoring.”
Julian huffs, shaking his head as he grabs another paper towel, pressing it down over the ink to soak up the excess.
Isabel watches from where she stands, arms still folded, but there’s curiosity in her gaze now. She’s studying Julian as he works—the way he wipes away the ink, checking his lines, the way he moves with precision. Theodore is watching too.
“ Bet you’d savor anything if Julian was the one giving it to you,” Theodore quips.
A slow grin spreads across my face. “ Maybe . Depends on what he’s offering.”
Across the room, Isabel sighs, like she regrets all her life choices that led her to this moment.
Julian reaches for the clear bandage. “ Try not to get it infected,” he commands dryly, pressing it over the fresh ink.
“ Please ,” I scoff. “ You know you love babying me.”
He presses the bandage down harder than necessary, making me suck in a sharp breath, then peels off his gloves and tosses them aside.
Isabel snorts, and I catch the sound. “ What’s funny, Starling ?”
She shakes her head, biting back a smirk.
I grin, tilting my head. “ Oh , sweetheart. If you wanted to play nurse, all you had to do was ask.”
“ That’s funny, ‘cause I was just thinking about smothering you in your sleep,” she bites back.
I grin, tapping my fingers against my stomach. “ You’d miss me too much.”
Theodore interrupts us. “ If you three are done flirting?—”
“ We weren’t flirting,” Isabel mutters.
I smirk, stretching my arms behind my head. “ No ? That’s a shame. Almost thought you were going sweet on me for a second.”
Julian throws the used paper towel at my face. I laugh, catching it before it hits me.
Isabel huffs and throws us each a withering look before turning on her heel and stalking off, but I stop her in her tracks. “ Hold on.”
She pauses but doesn’t turn around, like she’s debating whether she actually has to listen to me. I take my time getting up, stretching lazily before making my way to the dining table. A garment bag is draped over one of the chairs, exactly where I left it earlier. I sling it over my arm and walk toward her, stopping just a few feet away.
“ You’re coming with me tonight,” I say simply, holding out the bag.
That gets her attention. She finally turns, brow furrowed in suspicion as she eyes the bag like it might bite her. “ Where ?”
I smirk. “ Madhouse is hosting its first-ever masquerade ball. And you, Starling , will be my date.”
Isabel blinks. “ Excuse me?”
“ You heard me.” I shake the bag slightly, urging her to take it. “ Go put this on. You and I are going to have some fun.”
She doesn’t move to take it. Instead , she crosses her arms, glaring at me like I’ve personally offended her. “ You can’t be serious.”
“ Dead serious.”
Her lips press together, eyes darting toward Theodore and Julian , as if expecting them to say something, to stop me, but they don’t.
Her shoulders tense, like she’s preparing for a fight, but I don’t give her the chance. I step closer, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel intimate. “ Come on, Isabel . Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little fun.”
She snatches the bag from my hands with a sharp exhale. “ I hate you.”
I grin. “ You say that, but I think you’re going to enjoy yourself tonight.”
She doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead , Isabel turns on her heel again and marches up the stairs, this time without stopping.
I watch her go, already looking forward to whatever the night will bring.