by Aimee Carter
Benjy nodded respectfully, but his shoulders tightened. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I hope you’ve only heard good things.”
“Of course,” said Celia. “I’m sure there are only good things to tell. I also hear you’re quite trustworthy—is that true?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “He knows how dangerous it’ll be if anyone finds out he knows.”
“Good. I’m pleased you both understand what’s at stake.” She focused on me. “Kitty, darling, why don’t I give you two another moment, and once you’re finished, you come see me in my suite? I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you.”
I nodded weakly. A discussion with Celia right now couldn’t be a good thing.
She slipped back through the door, leaving me and Benjy alone again. He laced his fingers in mine. “I don’t trust her.”
“She’s up to something,” I said, and with a sigh, I told him about the deal we’d made. About how I’d agreed to continue Lila’s work.
Benjy stood and started to pace in front of the couch. “Do you realize what could happen? I’m not going to let you do this to yourself.”
“You don’t have a choice,” I said. “I don’t, either. They know how much you matter to me. When the Shields went to the group home to find me on my birthday—”
Benjy stopped. “I told them where you’d gone when they came back. I thought if they caught up with you in time, you wouldn’t have to—you know, and they had no proof you were stealing...”
He trailed off, but he didn’t have to finish. “I know,” I said. “I’m glad you did. If you hadn’t told them, you and Nina would have both—”
I couldn’t make myself say it. Benjy blinked hard. “She’s really gone?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I didn’t know. If they find out I told you everything, they’ll send you there, too.” I paused. “We have to pretend we don’t know each other. You can’t be—happy around me or even hint that you suspect. I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.” The seconds ticked by, but finally he nodded. “All right. We can do this, but I swear if they hurt you—”
“They won’t, and if they do, then we’ll figure something out. We’ll run away if we have to.” I glanced toward Knox’s closet. “Benjy, if you ever need to leave—”
A knock echoed through the room, and a moment later Knox entered. “I see you two have become better acquainted,” he said, heading back to his desk. “Celia wanted me to remind you that she’d like to see you.”
“Right.” I stood, and without warning, Benjy caught me in a giant bear hug and kissed me deeply. Unless Knox gave us another moment alone, it would likely be our last for a long time.
“Hey,” said Knox. “That’s my fiancée you’re kissing.”
I could have killed him for that. Benjy immediately let go of me, and my insides twisted as I watched him return to the other room without once looking back.
I glowered at Knox. “Thanks for that.”
“You’d better get used to it,” he said. “No one else is going to be so forgiving if they find you kissing my assistant.”
“Yeah, we know.” I stormed toward the door. Before I yanked it open, I added, “Why did you even bring him here?”
“Because I thought you would be glad to see him again.”
“Yeah, but Daxton and Augusta know he’s here, don’t they?”
He sighed and removed his glasses. “They won’t hurt him.”
“As long as I behave,” I said. “Except you and Celia are asking me to do the exact opposite.”
“You will be protected,” he promised. “As will Benjy.”
“Just like you protected Lila?” I said. He was quiet for a long moment.
“If Daxton and Augusta wanted to kill him, no bunker in the world would keep him safe forever,” he said. “This way, he gets to live his life—a charmed life at that, as a VI and the future minister of ranking’s most trusted adviser. If we all survive this, he will have more opportunities than he ever dreamed of before today.”
“And if we don’t?” I said tightly.
“Then he would have died no matter where he was. At least now he knows the stakes. He knows you survived. And you will both have each other for however long circumstances allow.”
I remained still as a silent war raged within me. I would never be with Benjy like I’d planned, not anymore. But he was here now. He knew I wasn’t dead, and I would get to see him as often as I liked. And despite my anger, I knew Knox had a point. No one could hide from the government, not forever. Benjy deserved the chance to live the life he’d earned with his VI, and no matter what happened, I would do everything I could to make sure Daxton never got to him like he’d gotten to Tabs and Nina.
“Thanks,” I said, forcing the words out through my clenched jaw. “For letting me see him. You’re sure he’ll be safe here?”
“Safer here than someplace where no one’s watching his back,” said Knox. “And you’re welcome.”
At last I left. Before heading to Celia’s suite, I returned to mine and changed out of my nightclothes. My mind raced with the possibilities of how Daxton and Augusta might use Benjy against me, and by the time I knocked on Celia’s door, I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down. I would tell him about the secret passageway the first chance I got. At least then we’d both have a way out.
“There you are,” said Celia. “Come on in.”
Just like my suite, hers was luxuriously decorated. Everything from the couches to the carpet was a rich purple, and framed pictures of her, Lila, and a man I didn’t recognize were everywhere. I sat down on the sofa and tried not to look nervous.
“I don’t need to tell you the danger Benjy is in,” she said, sitting across from me and pouring herself a cup of tea. She offered me one, and I shook my head. “When Knox approached my brother about taking him on as his assistant, Daxton was thrilled with the idea.”
My blood ran cold. “Knox said he was safe here.”
“Knox is an idealist. I’m a realist.” She took a sip of her tea. “You won’t be useful to them forever, you know, and when the time comes, no amount of protest is going to save Benjy, either.”
“I won’t let them hurt him,” I said.
“Is that so? How do you plan on stopping them?”
I looked at my hands. Once I told Benjy about the passageway, he might have a chance to escape when the time came. With Lila’s face, I would never be able to hide in a crowd, but Benjy—he could do it.
“Why are you telling me this?” I said.
“Because I have a solution for you.” Setting her teacup down, she fished a cloth bag from her pocket. It was the same bag Knox had handed her earlier. Reaching inside, she pulled out two small syringes. One was filled with purple liquid, and the other clear. “Have you ever used one of these before?”
I leaned back into the sofa, as far away from her as possible. I remembered all too well the night Daxton had knocked me out with a needle. “I’m not taking that.”
“I’m not asking you to.” She held up the purple one. “This is a nonfatal dose. This—” She held up the clear syringe. “This combination will stop the heart almost instantly once it’s administered in full.”
My hands shook, and I shoved them underneath my legs to keep Celia from noticing. “Is that your solution? You’re going to kill Daxton?”
“No,” she said calmly. “You are.”
XII
Bloodbath
According to Celia, the plan was foolproof.
She would take the purple dose near Daxton’s suite and toss the syringe into the small fountain nearby. The evidence would dissolve, she claimed, and no one would be any wiser.
Afte
r that, she would stumble around the corner and distract Daxton’s guards. Thirty seconds—that’s all she would have before she passed out, and that was where I came in. While the guards were busy attending to her, I would sneak into Daxton’s room and find a way to give him the fatal dose. Someone had disabled the security cameras, she assured me, and no one would be able to pinpoint it on me. Once I was done, I would sneak back out, get rid of the syringe, and return to my suite to wait for the news of Daxton’s death.
It would look like someone had attempted to poison them both, Celia said. It would take the blame off her, and Knox would vouch for me if it came to it. Augusta would blame some unknown assassin, likely associated with the Blackcoats, and there would be chaos for days. But Daxton would be dead, and Augusta didn’t have Greyson on a tight leash like she did her son.
“What if I don’t want to?” I said, and Celia gave me a look that could have melted diamonds.
“Whose life do you value more? Daxton’s or Benjy’s?”
And that was the end of the argument.
I still wasn’t convinced it was the best thing to do, though. There had to be another way, one that didn’t involve taking so many chances, but Celia was adamant. Daxton was due to travel across the country the next day now that lockdown was over, and if I wanted to do this, it had to be now.
“The first time you do something wrong, he’ll murder Benjy,” said Celia. “You know that.”
I did, but that didn’t mean I was ready to kill someone with my bare hands.
I hid behind a corner a few yards from the entrance to Daxton’s suite, which took up two levels of an entire wing on the opposite side of the mansion. As I waited, I clutched the syringe and tried to remember that this was for Tabs and Nina and everyone else who had died because of Daxton. This was nothing more than justice, and if anyone deserved to die for his crimes, it was him. No matter how passionately he claimed he was making the world a better place, when the most I could have hoped for as a III was an early death, I couldn’t see how it was benefiting anyone but those who were lucky enough to be born into a position of power. Or like Benjy, smart enough to earn it. And while I knew better than to think Celia was doing this to help me protect him, I also knew that Daxton had killed her daughter. So far she’d shown remarkable restraint, but it must have been easier to face him knowing this was her plan all along.
Celia’s strangled cry echoed down the corridor, and they were soon joined by shouts from the guards. When I peeked around the corner, I saw two uniformed men hunched over Celia, who lay on the floor shaking violently. Horrified, I stared, forgetting for a moment that my time was limited. What if she wasn’t okay?
No. I had a job to do. Celia would be fine, and even if she wasn’t, she was willing to risk it in order to give me a chance to kill Daxton.
I shook myself out of it and snuck toward Daxton’s door, opening it as silently as I could. Once I slipped into the dark living room, I noticed the light was on underneath an adjacent door. Taking a breath, I knocked.
“Come in,” said Daxton distractedly. If he had any idea about the commotion in the hallway, he wasn’t letting on.
Stepping inside, I glanced around, my grip tightening around the syringe. Daxton sat behind a massive black desk that spanned nearly the entire width of the room. Bookcases as high as the ceiling surrounded us, each shelf packed tightly with volumes that looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades. A pair of fountains trickled on either side of the door, but what caught my eye was the portrait of the entire Hart family hanging on the wall behind Daxton. In the painting, he sat on what could only be called a throne, his wife posed beside him and her hand resting on his. Celia and Augusta stood behind her, and I could almost feel Celia’s hatred through the canvas.
Jameson, Daxton’s elder son, stood at his other side, his chin raised with pride. He was handsome—much more handsome than Greyson, who lingered nearby, smaller than he was now. But the most surprising part of the portrait was Lila, who stood on the fringes of the frame, her blond hair perfectly curled and her expression matching her mother’s. She hated the family as much as Celia did, and I still didn’t understand why. Was she parroting her mother? Following in her footsteps? Or was there a reason no one had explained to me—a reason Lila had risked her life for the people beneath her?
I opened my mouth to greet Daxton, but he held up a finger and looked down into a screen on his desk.
“Yes, I realize that, Creed,” he said. “Do remind the other ministers that even though they outnumber me, I outrank them, and their privilege is granted at my pleasure. If they do not like the allocation of funds for the next quarter, there are dozens of others who would be happy to sign their name in exchange for the title of minister.”
“Of course,” said a man—Knox’s father. “I will let the council know. Thank you for your time, Prime Minister.”
Daxton waved his hand over the monitor, and it went dark. He straightened, and a poisonous smile spread across his face. “Ah, Kitty. I see you’ve been released.”
“Yeah, they told me lockdown was over.”
“Did you see the present I left you?” he said, and I hesitated.
“You mean Benjy?”
“Indeed. And how is your little friend?”
I pressed my lips together. Talking to Daxton about him seemed wrong, like I was somehow tainting Benjy. “He’s good, I think. And don’t worry,” I added. “I’m not going to tell him who I am.”
“Of course you won’t. You’re far too smart for that.” Daxton slipped around the desk and stopped in front of me, his expression a mockery of sympathy. “It’s such a terrible thing, being separated from the one you love. After my wife died...” He sighed and cupped my cheek. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve never been the same.”
I glanced up at the portrait. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“It was,” he murmured, closing the distance between us. “I would have done anything to get her back, but that isn’t how the world works, now, is it?”
It seemed to me that that was exactly how the Harts’ world worked, but I didn’t dare say it. I clutched the syringe. He was close now, and all it would take was one stab.
“Tell me, Kitty,” he said, his mouth inches from mine. I could smell garlic on his breath. “Now that you have what you want so badly, how do you intend to thank me for it?”
“With words,” I said. “I’m your niece, Daxton.”
“You’re not my niece,” he said, running a hand down my arm. I shrugged it off, and he set it on my waist instead. “Lila was always so beautiful. When Mother told me her plan, I was so certain we would never find someone who could pull her off, but here you are. So like her in every way. She refused me, too, you know.”
He traced my lips with his fingertip, and I had to clench my jaw to stop myself from biting him. “Is that why you killed her, you sick bastard?”
Daxton chuckled. “Of course not. I would hardly go to all this trouble for something I could have any time I wanted.”
His hand slipped under my shirt, brushing against Lila’s butterfly tattoo. My resolve hardened, and before I could second-guess myself, I kneed him hard between the legs.
Daxton doubled over, grunting in pain. “You stupid bitch,” he wheezed. “You just earned your boyfriend a death sentence.”
I uncapped the syringe. “The only person dying today is you,” I said, and I jammed the needle in the side of his neck and pressed the plunger.
What are you doing?
Benjy’s voice echoed through my mind, and for a split second, I couldn’t breathe.
I wasn’t a killer. Doing this made me no better than Daxton, and I hated him too much to want to be anything like him.
He went rigid in my arms. I grabbed his neck to hold him steady as I yanked the needle out and threw it aside, but i
t was too late. Half the dose was gone.
There was something else, too. Underneath my hand, where his VII tattoo faded into his tan skin, I felt ridges—
But not a VII.
Instead they were in the shape of a single V.
I stumbled backward. Daxton touched the spot on his neck where I’d injected the poison, and when he pulled away, a bead of blood stained his finger. “What did you—”
He hit the floor with a thud, and panic seized me. Half a dose. Would it be enough? I had no idea, but I couldn’t bring myself to finish him off.
My heart pounded. He wasn’t Daxton Hart. He’d been Masked, like me, and all this time, he wasn’t the real prime minister.
Was he dead? A second passed, and his chest rose and fell. Not yet. Half a dose wasn’t enough, and no matter who he was, when he woke up, they wouldn’t bother sending me Elsewhere. They would finally have a reason to execute Lila. Would they kill Celia, too, and Knox? And what about—
A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. If Daxton woke up, he would kill Benjy. I needed to give him the rest of the dose.
I glanced around, searching for the syringe. Where was it? I dropped to my hands and knees, searching the lush carpet, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.
The fountains. I rushed to the nearest one. The syringe lay inside, already half dissolved. I scooped the remains out, but it was too late. The poison was gone.
No. No, no, no. I rushed to Daxton’s side. His breaths came slowly and laboriously, but he was still alive. My eyes fell on a throw pillow on a couch nearby. I could smother him. It would only take a minute, and then he wouldn’t be a threat anymore. It was my only option.
I tried to cross the room, but my feet were glued to the floor. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be like him. They’d taken everything from me already—I couldn’t let them take this last piece of my humanity, as well. III or not, I was better than that. I was better than him, whoever he was.
Shouts from the hallway echoed through the room. I’d waited too long. The guards who were dealing with Celia would undoubtedly have called in reinforcements by now, and I was trapped.