Chapter Forty-Five
Forty-Five
Axe
When Josie messages me saying she won’t be able to come in to work on some She’s the One edits because her grandmother has passed, I put SynthoTech on full alert. I send massive bouquets, flowers upon flowers, trying to do something—anything, really—but it feels like grasping at air.
There’s no funeral to go to, no gathering for closure. Her nonna didn’t want any of it, made sure there’d be no fuss. Josie’s brief texts are sweet, but there’s a lost, numb sadness to them that breaks my heart.
As much as I’ve wanted to be right there beside her—to take her hand, to hold her close through this—she makes it clear she needs her space.
Josie wants to grieve alone.
In Scotland, with the exception of Skara Brae, when someone has passed, grief is our national sport.
Wakes go on for days. Mourners take turns keeping vigil, not leaving the body, not for a moment.
The family steps in, helping the caretaker with the burial, all before gathering together for the repast, sharing stories and memories.
Grief’s not meant to be suffered in silence.
It’s messy, loud, human, shared, and held up by your kin.
The next time I get to see Josie will be at Saturday’s Turning Point Gala—a benefit for the shelter Strike and Honor support, which serves women and children rebuilding after domestic abuse—and anticipation jolts me awake before the sun’s even up.
I head to the gym for a punishing round of dead lifts, with the reward of a Green God smoothie from the juice bar: spinach, kale, banana, and some shit that tastes like powdered Band-Aids.
Then I sit down, my thumbs hovering over my phone. Josie would be the first to tell me she doesn’t need me to coddle her. But…I can’t help but check in.
Oi, Miss Greene. Still stepping out tonight for Turning Point?
A few seconds pass before her reply: Of course! I wouldn’t miss it
Looking forward to seeing you outshine all that fancy art
Ha, flattery will get you everywhere. Looking forward to seeing you, too
My heart expands like a bellows. I’m trying to cook up something just right to send back when my encrypted email sounds off.
To: A. MacKenzie
From: Niles von Grafenhagen
Subject: Final Review NVG Inc. Contribution.
I’d like to schedule a meeting tonight, 7 pm sharp, to finalize the remaining details of NVG, Inc.
’s commitment to the She’s the One initiative, specifically regarding the blockchain-secured investments and the cloud-based infrastructure we’ve allocated for long-term scalability.
For convenience, let’s meet at the Quarry Lounge, just next door to the Gala.
I also intend to make a significant additional contribution to Turning Point this evening.
My phone buzzes again. It’s Strike, who has been monitoring all of Niles’s communications. “You get the message?”
“Just came through. He’s got shit timing. We’ll have to step out of the gala.”
“It looks like he’s planning more than just a casual business meeting tonight,” says Strike.
“He sent out a coded message earlier today—something about pressure points and timing around the gala. It’s vague, but it doesn’t sit right with me.
Especially because it pinged near a tower not far from Veronica Petrov’s estate.
He’s got something else going down tonight.
Something that involves more than just his contribution. ”
I rub my hand across my jaw. “So there’s more in motion. Let’s meet him together and keep things tight.”
“Agreed,” says Strike.
When I’ve hung up, I stare at the phone, unhappy.
As much as I wanted to spend the whole evening with Josie, it’s not an option.
If von Fuckwad is up to something shady, especially with Petrov’s missus, keeping Josie clear of it is nonnegotiable.
Her safety comes above anything else. But it’s been three days since I’ve seen her, and just the thought of Josie walking into that hotel has me grinning like a fool.
Even if this night is about to get a lot more complicated than I thought.
—
At six-thirty sharp, I’m at the Keystone in a business suit that fits like a second skin, custom-made to perfection.
Midnight black, immaculate. The tie’s a bit too fancy for my taste, but it’ll do the job.
No room for half-arsed measures here. I look confident and in charge.
I smile to myself, remembering when Josie called me a hot CEO daddy.
As I toss the keys to my McLaren to a teenage valet who looks like he might jizz his pants for the pleasure of parking it, I can already hear the prattle and laughter floating out from the hotel courtyard.
I’ll write a six-figure check before the night is out, though I would have happily done that without someone serving me canapés on a tiny napkin.
Early as it is, there’s already a crowd in the hotel’s atrium.
I spot Honor, and I step into the ring of fans around her.
She’s standing in front of her latest piece.
It’s named Jaxon’s River—a little boy canoes on a river of red.
If you look closely, you can see that the boy’s bruised wrists have broken free from fallen zip ties.
The painting is as beautiful as it is disturbing—the longer I look at it, the more I see that Honor’s message is about how blood needs to be spilled for you to find your way to freedom. Well, I couldn’t agree more.
“I love this one,” the mayor says. “It’s just so…”
He stops, looking for a word. I get the impression the mayor knows nothing about art and is scrambling. His husband steps in.
“Happy,” he exclaims. “It’s just so carefree and happy.”
Honor’s lips quirk into a smile—she’d never let them know she’s laughing at how badly they’ve misinterpreted her work—and nods politely.
But when Honor catches sight of my mug, she looks downright pissed.
“I hear you and Strike have a hot date at seven,” she hisses under her breath.
“You know I’m all in on what you guys do, but come on.
Not tonight. It’s super shitty of you to schedule a work meeting in the middle of this event. ”
I hold up my hands. “Aye, I know, and I’m sorry for it. Truly. Wasn’t my call. I’ll bring him right back, I swear. But can you keep an eye out for Josie while I’m gone? She’s had a brutal week, losing her nonna and all. I want to make sure she’s not getting overwhelmed by all this.”
At that, Honor’s glare melts away, replaced by a knowing smile. It’s subtle but unmistakable—like she can see right through me, like she knows how much I care about Josie. Am I that obvious? Is it written all over my face?
“Of course I will.”
I nod, glancing at my watch. Time’s ticking. Josie’s last text said she’d be running late, so I’m hoping I can get to the Quarry, deal with Niles’s business, and be back in time to sweep her off her feet for the night.
Still, there’s something stuck in the back of my mind. Like there’s something I saw and I can’t shake, a darkness waiting just outside my peripheral vision.
Six fifty-seven. Right, then. Let’s get this over with.