Chapter Forty Saylor
Chapter Forty
Saylor
Has Blue lost his mind?
I stand in the forbidden room surrounded by killer skulls, and Blue is giving me that stubborn look I’m starting to recognize.
“What part of ‘I’m ready to fight’ don’t you understand?” I cross my arms, staring at him. “Your attempt at forcing me out
is taking away my power. I’m not disappearing. I’m not hiding.”
Blue’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple.” I gesture around the room at his macabre museum. “These women needed new identities because it
was the only way they could save themselves. I can save myself another way. Problem solved.”
“The Crow—”
“Will get exactly what they deserve,” I interrupt. “And I’ll be there to help give it to them.”
Blue runs his hands through his hair, which I now realize he does often, making it stick up at odd angles. “Saylor, you don’t
understand—”
“I’m getting sick of standing here,” I snap, “and it’s not because of the bones.”
Blue blinks at me like I’ve started speaking old world Greek.
I turn on my heel and storm toward the door. Behind me, Blue calls my name, but I’m done with this conversation. He can stand
up there arguing with his bone collection for all I care.
I stomp down the stairs. The main hall stretches before me with gothic arches and expensive art.
Wren appears from the direction of the kitchen, looking harried in a way I’ve never seen before. Her usual unflappable composure
has cracks around the edges, grief written in the lines around her eyes.
“Saylor, dear.” She attempts a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had luggage and boxes sent to your room. I’ll come
up and help—”
I stop dead in the middle of the hall. “No.” The word comes out flat and final. “I’m not leaving.”
Wren blinks rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m staying here.” I gesture vaguely around the mansion.
Wren’s confusion deepens, but before she can respond, Blue appears behind me. I can feel his presence without turning around,
that familiar electricity he brings to any room.
Wren’s eyes dart between me and Blue, clearly looking for guidance on how to handle this situation. Blue gives her a look—one
of those silent communications that speaks volumes.
“Stop talking with your eyes,” I snap, spinning around to face him. “Both of you. If you have something to say, say it out
loud.”
Before Blue can respond, the doorbell echoes through the house. Wren bustles toward the front door, muttering about unexpected
visitors and proper calling hours.
When she opens it, Ash steps inside, and for the first time in two days, something shifts in the oppressive atmosphere of
Maison Rouge. He looks like he’s been running, his casual clothes slightly disheveled, but his eyes are bright with purpose.
“Blue,” he says immediately, spotting him behind me. “Got it done.”
“What did you get done?” I interrupt before Blue can respond. That familiar prickle of being excluded from important conversations
starts up my spine.
Ash glances between Blue and me, clearly sensing the tension. Blue opens his mouth, probably to suggest they adjourn to his
study for a private conversation.
“Stop,” I say, holding up my hand. “Just stop. If this has to do with the Crow, then I have a right to know too. We’re not
doing the whole ‘let’s go talk in private while Saylor waits in the hall like a good little girl’ thing.”
Blue closes his mouth, looking slightly put out.
“So what did you get done?” I ask Ash.
“I managed to bribe the Crow responsible for guarding the roads and perimeters around Brutus’s hideout,” he explains. “Had
some past contacts with a few of them from when I was a Crow. Turns out some of them hate Brutus as much as I do.”
“And?” I lean forward.
“We can move in tonight without being detected.” Ash grins. “Time for revenge.”
Finally. Finally, we’re going to make them pay for Hans, for Dad, for everything they’ve stolen from us.
“I’m coming,” I announce immediately.
“No,” Blue says, his tone carrying that edge that usually makes people obey without question. “You’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
Blue’s jaw tightens. “Saylor, this isn’t—” He stops, runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t watch another
person I’m supposed to protect die because I wasn’t careful enough.”
The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This isn’t about my capabilities. This is about Hans. About Peter. About
everyone he’s lost.
“Hans died protecting me,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “My father was murdered by these same bastards. How is this not
my fight?”
“You can’t even see blood without passing out,” Blue points out, which stings because he’s absolutely right. “You’re not equipped
for combat.”
The honesty cuts deeper than I want to admit, but it doesn’t change anything fundamental. “I’m still going.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
We stare at each other across the foyer, and I can see him trying different arguments in his head, discarding each one as
it occurs to him. Wren stands frozen by the door like she’s watching a tennis match, and Ash appears to be trying not to laugh.
“These aren’t the men from my basement,” Blue says finally. “This is real combat. Real violence. People are going to die,
and it’s going to be messy and brutal and—”
“And I want to be there for it.” I step closer to him, close enough to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. “It’s not
just Hans that needs revenge, Blue. My father’s death hasn’t been fully avenged either. These are the same people on my list.
And even if they weren’t on the list, they are still the Crow. The same organization that murdered the only family I had left.”
I can see him processing this, weighing it against his need to protect me.
“I’m going,” I say again, softer this time but no less determined. “This is my choice.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The standoff stretches until Ash throws his hands up in exasperation.
“Fuuuuuuck, she’s going!” he declares. “Blue, you’ve been outmaneuvered. Accept defeat gracefully.”
Blue turns his glare on Ash, who just grins back without an ounce of concern. But I can see something in Blue’s posture shifting,
the fight going out of him as he realizes he’s lost this particular battle.
“Fine,” Blue says finally, the word coming out like it tastes bitter. “But you follow orders. No heroics, no improvisation,
no getting yourself killed because you want to prove a point.”
“Deal,” I say immediately, before he can change his mind.
“We move at midnight.”
The finality in his voice should feel like victory, but something doesn’t sit right. I watch Blue’s face—the tight set of
his jaw, the way his hands have already curled into fists like he’s preparing for battle. He’s going to walk into that hideout
expecting to die. Expecting this to be some kind of redemption through violence.
That’s not what I want.
“Wait,” I say, the idea forming even as I speak. “What if there’s another way? Another way where vengeance can . . . taste
better.”
Blue and Ash both turn to look at me, curiosity replacing the tension.
“I’m listening,” Blue says carefully.
I take a breath, knowing what I’m about to suggest is insane. But it’s also perfect.
“But the plan does require both of us to die,” I add, watching his face for his reaction.