I honestly can’t believe I’m about to walk in there again. After everything that happened, after everything that went down, I never would have dreamed that I’d voluntarily walk back into this place.
I ride the elevator up to the top floor, and the doors open to a familiar, beautiful, nearly pure white penthouse.
The scent of food actually does waft through the air. I try to push back the memories this place invokes. The first time I cooked for Sebastian here when he was having a bad day. The times we spent making out on that couch. When Sebastian proposed to me in the living room.
Ugh.
Why?
Why did he have to come back? Why did everyone feel so damn desperate that they were willing to make a deal for Sebastian’s safe return to Chicago?
I round into the kitchen and find I’m the last to arrive. Roman stands with his hands braced on the countertop, his jaw clenched so tight, surely his teeth are going to fracture. Mason looks pale as a ghost as he sits at the island, his fingers interlaced and white from the pressure.
Roman pulls his phone out and calls Sigrid. When she answers, he puts it on speaker and lays it on the counter. Mason does the same for Elena, and it feels like a miracle that we’re still able to talk to her.
“I’ve already caught everyone up on what’s going on,” Roman says. There might have been a brief intermission, but he never stopped working. He never does. “It’s only a matter of time before someone caves and tells Orlando who the rest of us are.”
“Then we take control of the situation,” Sebastian says as he lays a plate of bacon on the counter. “We don’t wait until someone cracks. One of us should go to Orlando.”
“Are you crazy?” Elena barks from the device on the counter. “Did you not witness him stake me?”
“Yes, but here you are talking to us,” Sebastian says as he braces his hands against the counter, his eyes sliding to mine. “People move on when they think their enemies are dead. What better way to get rid of the House for good? Why would they ever take a second look if they think we’re all gone?”
One of my brows arches. Sebastian has a point.
“You want me to just hand the council over, one by one, to die at my maniac brother’s hands?” Roman growls, his eyes dark.
“He might be right,” I say, hating that I’m siding with Sebastian at the moment. “I think Orlando is being genuine when he says he wants to clear the path for you by taking out anyone who thinks they have any right to govern the city. If he can kill us all… Orlando would have no reason to think anything wasn’t going according to plan.”
“I humbly request that my name be left out of this scheme, for the sake of my people,” Sigrid says from the phone. “Unless any of you have reason to believe otherwise, the House does not know about the other half of the population of this city. If it can be avoided, I would rather not put my kind at risk.”
I nod. “We didn’t tell Superintendent Day about the gifted. I don’t know why we couldn’t get away with leaving the gifted out of the conversation with the House?”
“The fewer people we put at risk, the better,” Mason agrees as he brushes two fingers across his lips. “So, what’s the plan then? Let Orlando take us out, one by one? Not going to lie, I don’t love that kind of anticipation.”
“You can be first then,” Sebastian says. All attention shifts back to him. “I think it should be me. Not that I need the money he’s offering, but I haven’t been involved yet, hence you’re all here when I know you’d all rather just kill me and get this over with. Orlando will believe me, that I have no loyalty to the Council. The bad blood is hard to miss.”
No one says anything immediately, because it’s extremely uncomfortable how true Sebastian’s words are.
“I’ll feed Orlando Mason’s name, and then Juliet. He won’t know Sigrid was involved. And then someone is going to have to ‘betray’ me and give Orlando my name as the last Council member. Then, he will have no reason not to leave the city.”
The apprehension on each of their faces is real. It’s a risk to them. A huge gamble. We’re talking about their second death, and there isn’t supposed to be any such thing for vampires.
“I’m sitting here, totally alive, you guys,” Elena says in that no-nonsense voice of hers. “I got stabbed through the heart. You all watched me die. But Juliet is the real deal. I feel good as new.”
Mason lets out a hard breath, leaning back in his seat. “I hate the plan. But I do think it’s the best plan. But I’ll keep that stipulation. I go first. And I want it over within twenty-four hours or less. I’ve got enough to stress over. I’d rather get this impossible death over with sooner than later.”
“With pleasure,” Sebastian says, fighting the smile that’s trying to curl on his lips. He turns and scoops a stack of pancakes onto a plate. No one is eating anything. Anticipating looming death will do that to an appetite.
“Once you’ve died, you can’t be seen again until after the House is confirmed on the ground in Spain,” Roman says. “But we all need to think of a plan of explanation for everyone who will think you’re dead but definitely will see you walking the streets again.”
True.
How do we explain it?
One issue at a time.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN