Page 101 of SINS & Riley
I’ve been the village idiot, dangling a lit match over a lake of gasoline.
Reckless. Careless.
Every stupid move I made put his entire operation at risk.
I press a finger hard to my temple.
No wonder he wants me gone.
Sabine leans back, her gaze drifting toward Elena, who curls tighter into herself. “She was supposed to leave last week. But she was…” A pause as she finds just the right word. “Unwell.”
I nod, though I can't imagine what she's been through. I was bought by Zver. Who is she bought by?
My eyes stick to the necklace strangling Elena’s throat. “Can't you get it off her?”
Sabine frowns. “The new ones are reinforced. Stronger. Heavier. We’re working with someone at our destination. He thinks he can remove it without an issue.”
There’s something she’s not saying, but I let it go. She pats my hand gently.
That’s when I see it. The friendship bracelet around her wrist. The cheap coin you make with a kit.
I know it instantly.
“Where did you get that?” My voice cracks.
Her eyes flick down. “Zver said you might ask. It belongs to someone you know.”
“Mila.”
Her smile softens. “Her name isn’t Mila anymore.”
“Wait… she’s alive.” My pulse skitters. “What’s her name now?”
“I can’t tell you. If you ever meet again, and I have every confidence you will, she’ll introduce herself. Just as I introduced myself to you as Sabine.”
She's telling me that's not her real name.
“But… isn’t this a private plane? Why the secrecy?”
Her head shakes with remorse. “We've learned our lesson the hard way. Information can be the difference between life and death. We go through enormous measures to make sure old identities are never connected to the new ones.”
From her bag, she pulls a sealed envelope. “Once we land, this is you. For the most part, Riley Mullvain no longer exists.”
I take it with trembling hands. I don't know if it's from the cold or my nerves.
If Riley Mullvain doesn’t exist… how will I ever see my sister again?
Visions of Kennedy flash through my head. From her laughing at the wedding, to her stepping out of Enzo’s car at the cemetery.
The two of us hiding in a closet as kids. We were each other’s worlds. And now, I’m about to have a baby, and she has no idea.
For no reason at all, Zver crashes into my thoughts. His dramatic final goodbye. His tattoo. His mask. The ache of missing him twists deeper, a knife carving slow.
Tears threaten to spill. Before I become a blubbering mess, I shove him out of my head and double bolt the door.
My gaze drifts back to Elena.
I hate that they can’t get the necklace off her. She’s asleep, chest rising in shallow, fragile pulls of air. How close was she to death’s door before they pulled her out?
