Chapter 11
LOUIS
The most radical revolutionary will become a conservative the day after the revolution. -–Hannah Arendt
Icouldn’t sleep.
Couldn’t stop sweating either. Every breath felt like it came through a furnace. My skin itched with heat and restlessness, like my nerves were trying to claw their way out.
I grabbed my phone.
Louis
Cassian, what the hell, man? Did you really need to take it that far? Is all of this really necessary?
No response. Thirty seconds… a minute…then finally—
Cassian
I never said the game would be easy, besides you were the one who volunteered for this.
Louis
Under duress!
Cassian
Please, you’re just as intrigued as I am. How is it? How is she?
I kept all details to myself.
Louis: This weekend, then?
Cassian
You like her.
Louis
I tolerate her. I’ll be ready for the meeting. Don’t try anything stupid. It’s my ass on the line and hers—and your only way for the truth.
Bullshit! He knew I didn’t stick out my neck because I wanted to—I had no choice, and vengeance was a powerful thing.
Cassian
There are rules. They’re going to test you.
Cassian
I need you to figure things out.
Cassian
She needs you to look like the hero protecting her at all costs.
Cassian
I don’t see how any of this is a problem.
Except—it was.
I cringed.
I was using her. And she, with all her arrogance and sharp retorts, thought she was the one in control. That she had the cards. When really?
She was the one getting fucking played.
I texted back.
Louis
Fine. Just tell me it gets better?
Cassian didn’t hesitate.
Cassian
You and your damn morals.
Cassian
You could’ve just found relief with your wife.
Cassian
God knows you’re going to need to at some point.
Cassian
Especially when they give you a choice.
My pulse slowed.
Louis
What choice?
Cassian
You’ll see. We deal in secrets, lust, power, gore. You gotta pay to play, man. Get some rest.
I tossed the phone across the bed and dropped face-first onto the mattress.
I’d barely sunk into the sheets when the door clicked shut behind me.
“You alive? Or are you humping the mattress?” Tempest’s voice drifted in, full of that dry amusement that somehow made everything worse. “I mean—as long as it’s not a stuffed animal, I think we’re safe.”
I flipped her off without lifting my head. “You could solve all of this by just telling me what’s so damn important about infiltrating the family, maybe I already know what you want. Then again, I imagine it’s longer than finding out a riddle.”
She didn’t answer.
Typical.
“Anyway,” I muttered, dragging myself upright, “I’m almost looking forward to the next and final vials.”
She gave a snort. “You’re insane.”
“I’m hopeful,” I said. “I’m rooting for sociopath next round. But hey—zombie’s still in the running. If I start drooling, just catch it. I don’t want to stain the hardwood.”
Tempest plopped down beside me, her thigh brushing mine. “You’re funnier when you’re depressed as hell. Maybe that’s why she fell for you.”
I groaned. “This again? Your sister’s happily married. And not here.”
My mouth was dry. I licked my lips. “I never slept with her.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Truth serum? Or just guilt?
“I kissed her. A few times. We took things slow. I wasn’t sure. Neither was she.”
Because even then—I was using her. The way I was using Tempest now.
But with her… somewhere along the way, I’d stopped.
I started looking forward to her smile more than the seduction. Then I forgot the plan altogether and thought of nothing but fixing things. Switching sides. Fighting for us.
Tempest turned onto her side, watching me. “Does she kiss better?”
I barked out a laugh. “Wow. You really do need all the words, don’t you?”
She scrunched her nose. The way it wrinkled was so damn adorable it hurt. “I’m younger by a minute,” she said with a shrug. “Of course I’m needy.”
I shifted toward her, heart thudding louder than it should’ve. “Must’ve been a long minute.”
She scooted closer. “It was.”
I licked my lips again, slower this time. “Well. I got a minute.”
I didn’t think.
Didn’t hesitate.
I leaned in and kissed her.
Soft at first. Testing. Then deeper, like I needed the lie to feel real.
Our lips slid together perfectly. Her breath hitched. Mine followed.
It was bliss—kissing her.
Easy.
Despite the secrets. Despite the poison. Despite everything.
I told myself it was part of the game. I told myself she’d just assume it was the serum still wearing off.
I was only lying to myself.
The kiss burned down to my soul, past lips, stolen words, confessions.
And not just from the heat between us—but from the truth I wasn’t ready to admit. Her lips moved against mine like a promise I didn’t deserve, soft and desperate and real in a way that terrified me.
I pulled her closer.
She didn’t struggle.
I cupped her breast and pinched her pebbled nipple through her shirt.
She let me.
For a breath.
Then—
Crack.
Pain bloomed at the base of my skull, a flash of white behind my eyes. My balance tilted. I staggered back, disoriented, mouth parting in a shocked exhale.
“What the f—”
Everything went black.
I woke up on the floor.
Not in bed. Not on the couch.
The floor.
My head pounded like a war drum. I groaned and sat up, the left side of my face screaming as if it had tried to take on a brick wall and lost.
Something cold brushed my palm.
A vial.
Bright green this time.
And a note, tucked neatly beneath it, written in blocky handwriting I recognized but hated instantly.
You weren’t the only one given instructions. Sorry about the bruise. Also: trust no one. Not even me.
My fingers curled tight around the paper.
“Tempest,” I muttered, fury and betrayal twisting inside me like storm ready to rage cross the sea.
The vial winked at me in the early morning light.
One step closer. Another test. Another secret.
And this time?
She played me.
I stared at the note again.
Not even me.
I laughed.
Then I stopped.
Because I wasn't sure which part hurt worse: the bruise on my face—or the fact that I’d started to believe she might actually care after last night, after our words, after our moment.
Joke’s on me.
This was all a business transaction—kisses included.
How depressing.
Bottoms up.