Page 48 of Lone Wolf

“According to evidence we found at the warehouse, and information extracted from the Mancini soldier we captured…it’s likely that Marisol is no longer alive.”

The world seems to tilt beneath me. I’ve spent so much time searching, hoping, keeping the flame of her memory alive. Thepossibility of her death has always existed in some dark corner of my mind, but I’ve refused to give it space, refused to believe.

“How?” I manage to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“The records indicate she was supposed to be transported from Chicago to New York after the initial sale,” Hadria says, each word measured and careful. “There was an incident during transport of her and some other women—an attempted escape. The guards responded with excessive force, and as far as we can tell…well, it seems that the entire group was killed.”

My vision blurs.

“I’m so sorry, Sunny.”

I don’t hear her. All that time when I was still desperately searching. While I was beating myself up for not looking hard enough, for not being smart enough to find her.

She was already gone.

A sound escapes me—not quite a sob, more a gasp of pain. I curl forward, arms wrapping around my middle as if I could hold myself together through sheer force.

“I should have been there,” I whisper. “I should have helped her. I should have?—”

“No,” Hadria cuts me off, her voice firmer now. “What happened to your sister was not your fault. The blame lies with the men who took her, who hurt her.”

I look up at her through tear-blurred eyes. “But she died alone, thinking I abandoned her.”

“You don’t know that.” Hadria leans forward, her gaze intense. “And if Marisol knew you like we know you, Sunny, then her lastthoughts of you would have been nothing but happy. That counts for something.”

I wipe my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. “Does it, though?”

“Yes,” Hadria says with such conviction that I almost believe her. “But Sunny, I’ll understand if you don’t want to continue working on this operation. If you need time, or if you want a different assignment?—”

“No,” I interrupt, straightening my spine. The initial shock is hardening into something colder, something sharper. “I want to stay on this. I need to see it through.”

Grief is a heavy thing, but the desire for justice? It’s lighter. And it will give me wings.

“I need to honor her,” I continue, my voice steadier now. “I couldn’t save her. But maybe I can save someone else’s sister.”

Hadria studies me for a moment. Then she reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder—a gesture so unexpected that I nearly flinch.

“The Styx Syndicate is incredibly proud to have you,” she says quietly. “And I’m proud of you, too.”

Despite my grief, I feel a warmth spreading through my chest at her words. “Thank you,” I manage.

She nods once, then withdraws her hand. “Do you want me to ask Dr. Khatri to come in? Or would you prefer to reschedule?”

The thought of talking about this now, of analyzing my feelings and processing my grief under the sympathetic gaze of Dr.Khatri, makes my skin crawl. What I need is space. Air. Room to breathe around this new reality.

“I…think I need some time,” I say. “Can I reschedule?”

“Of course.” Hadria stands. “Take whatever time you need. I’ll let the doctor know your decision.”

I rise too, suddenly desperate to be outside. I think of Ariadne mentioning that her therapy session would be held in the gardens, and something in me yearns for that—for open sky, for growing things, for the reminder that life continues even in the face of death.

“I might take a walk in the gardens,” I say. “Clear my head.”

Hadria nods. “Nature can be…therapeutic, in its way.” There’s the faintest hint of irony in her voice, as if she’s quoting someone else’s opinion rather than expressing her own.

She moves toward the door, then pauses, turning back to me. “One more thing. Regardless of how this operation proceeds, and whether or not you choose to become a full member, you will always have a home here. I want you to know that.”

That catches me off guard, makes my throat close up dangerously. “Thank you,” I choke out.

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