32. Cassie
CASSIE
I wrapped my cardigan more tightly around me and stared at my computer screen where Alina Volkova’s perfectly symmetrical, exquisitely made up face stared back at me.
I was on the patio, the outdoor fireplace crackling with the fire Jagger had started when I came outside to work, a cup of steaming tea next to my computer that Vigo had brought me along with four Oreos.
He was staunchly against eating Oreos without crumbling them into a cup and pouring milk over them, but according to him eating Oreos the wrong way was better than not eating them at all.
It was almost impossible to believe it was October. I so clearly remembered walking into the Orpheum for the Hunt, the summer breeze balmy on my skin, sweat pricking the back of my neck.
Now the air was crisp and cool, the leaves beginning to fall from the trees in preparation for their long sleep.
But not for Alina Volkova.
Her last picture had been uploaded to social media the day before: Alina in a black bikini, eyes hidden by Versace sunglasses, long blonde hair blowing in the wind as she stood on the bow of a luxury yacht off the coast of Greece.
I scrolled through her feed for the hundredth time since Aloha had found Alina Volkova a week earlier.
This was Alina’s life: Dubai one day, Greece the next, then onto Monaco or St. Tropez or Ibiza.
I didn’t hate her. I had everything — everyone — I hadn’t known I’d wanted.
But I did wonder if she knew about Imperium Fratrum. If she knew the money that bought her such a beautiful life had come at the expense of hundreds or thousands of girls who’d been stolen from their own lives, every bit as beautiful to them.
I’d been consumed with Alina for the past week, had scrolled through thousands of pictures about her online, both on her own social media accounts and on the accounts of friends who’d tagged her.
But she’d been careful: her pictures only featured her or her fellow rich-kid friends, and while it was sometimes possible to identify her location (the Eiffel Tower in one photo, the sail-shaped tower of the Burj Khalifa in another) it was never specific enough to make me feel like we could run her down.
No street sign behind her, no hotel.
I wondered if she’d learned that from Dimitri. To be careful, to hide her exact location, to never ever show her father’s face or use her father’s name online.
I frowned at the screen.
Must be hard, being the daughter of an ultra-rich criminal in the age of social media.
“Time to get dressed, mouse.”
I jumped at the sound of Hawk’s voice, then took in his leather pants and the black T-shirt that somehow only made him look sexier for what it hid.
“What? Why?”
He bent to kiss me on the lips, swept my mouth with his tongue until I had to press my thighs together to stop the beat of hunger that pulsed there.
I was breathless when he pulled away.
“Your costume’s upstairs,” he said.
“My… costume?”
“It’s Halloween.”
“I thought we were staying in,” I said. “I bought all that candy for trick-or-treaters.”
“I told you, we don’t get trick-or-treaters out here. We’re going to the masquerade.”
“What masquerade?”
“The one in town,” he said.
I had only the faintest memories of the Blackwell Falls Harvest Masquerade: costumes and candy and games and music.
I hadn’t been since before my parents had died.
“I don’t know…” I looked at my screen. “I’m trying to find Alina. I think you should go without me.”
“No can do.” He dragged my chair away from the patio table. “You’ve been trying to find Alina for a week. We all have. We need to let off some steam.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. The Hawks “letting off steam” would worry anyone with an ounce of sense. “That’s actually not enticing.”
He laughed and pulled me to my feet. “It’ll be nice clean family fun. I promise.”
“Fine.” I reluctantly closed my computer. “What’s this costume you’ve lined up for me?”
“It’s on your bed. Now go get dressed. We leave in a half hour.”
He slapped my ass and followed me back into the house.
I peeled off to head for the stairs while he headed for the living room.
In my room, I set my computer on the desk and walked to the bed where Hawk had laid out my costume.
Except it didn’t look like much of a costume. It was just black leggings, a black crop top, and the black heeled boots from my closet that I hardly ever wore.
I laughed and shook my head when I spotted the rest of the “costume”: black thong underwear and my purple lace push-up bra.
Of course.
I sighed and got dressed. There was no point fighting the Hawks when they got something in their heads.
I did my makeup but left my hair down. Then I changed into the underclothes Hawk had laid out before pulling on the leggings, crop top, and boots.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wasn’t any clearer on the point of the costume. It just looked like wish fulfillment for the Hawks: me with my tits and stomach hanging out of a low-cut crop top, my bottom half poured into leggings that highlighted cellulite I hadn’t even known I had.
Thanks for that, guys.
I headed back downstairs and found them in the kitchen wearing almost the same outfit I’d just put on — except for Vigo, who was shirtless — minus the thong underwear and push-up bra.
Obviously.
I folded my arms over my chest. “I have questions.”
Vigo stared at my tits, spilling out of the bra and crop top. “And I have a hard-on. Does that answer any of your questions?”
“No.” I looked down at my body. “This isn’t a costume. These are clothes.”
Hawk reached for something on the counter behind him and walked toward me. “You’re just missing part of the costume, that’s all.”
My heart stuttered in my chest when I looked at the mask in his hands.
It was a smaller version of the masks they’d worn in the Hunt: silver with a long beak and black feathers at the top, this one with deep purple detail on the beak and face.
A hawk.
I took it from him and swallowed around the lump in my throat. “You want me to wear this?”
Hawk stared down at me with his watchful eyes. Behind him, Jagger and Vigo seemed frozen, waiting to hear what I’d say.
Somehow I knew it was about more than Halloween. It was about the future, about being invited into their lives.
The exciting parts but the scary parts too.
“You’re one of us now,” Hawk said. “If you want to be.”
I did. I wanted to be.
I put the mask on and my field of vision narrowed behind the slanted eye holes. My mouth was exposed, which made it easy to breathe.
“How does it look?”
“Sexy as fuck,” Jagger said.
“Let me just…” Hawk reached over to adjust the mask.
It settled against my skin, molded against the contours of my face like it had been made for me.
“How’s that?” Hawk asked.
“Better.”
“Good.”
“I’m hyped,” Vigo said. “The masquerade has tons of free candy.”
Sugar was the last thing Vigo needed but I kept that observation to myself.
Jagger frowned as Vigo. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“It’s part of the costume.”
“There will be kids there,” Jagger said. “Put on a fucking shirt.”
“Fine,” Vigo said. “But if you think I’m going to let the kids have all the candy, you’ve got another think coming.”