by Amanda Foody
Jac grimaced as he sat on the sofa. Augustines, Torrens, they were all the same. Even if Harrison had exchanged casinos for opera houses and Tropps Street for Guillory, he was still running an elaborate power scheme.
Regardless, they still needed him. So Jac sat on the couch and said, “We better hurry up, then.”
Sophia took the spot beside him, and though neither Harrison nor Levi could see it, she hooked her fingers around Jac’s behind their backs. He didn’t know if she’d done it to comfort him or for her own support, but, either way, he liked it.
“I’m Charles’s and Delia’s half sister,” she explained. “I grew up in an orphanage in the Factory District and didn’t know my talents until I met a blood gazer.” It was a sadly common story in the North Side, but Jac didn’t believe a word of it. “Over a year ago, I began working at a Rapture den to get a better sense of my siblings. I was...curious. But by the time I was promoted to manager, I realized how despicable each of them was. So I’ve spent my time interacting with the underbosses, collecting knowledge on the inner workings of the empire, and growing familiar with their Apothecary network.”
“All to become donna?” Harrison asked. “Ruling a casino and narcotics empire hardly seems a likely dream for a young woman.”
A comment like that might’ve made Jac stumble, but Sophia betrayed no such weakness. “At my age, what was yours?” she asked.
A ghost of something unpleasant crossed his expression. “I know better now.”
“Then you’ll sympathize when I tell you I don’t wish to run my Family’s empire. I want to destroy it.”
There was an unmistakable glitter in Harrison’s eye. “Well, that’s...interesting.”
Interesting is good, Jac reassured himself, but his anxiety was much louder. Interesting is bad, very bad. Interesting is a disaster.
“I can get you your votes, but after the election, I’ll watch Luckluster burn,” Sophia said. “That’s the deal I’m offering.”
“I thought I was the one making the offers,” Harrison said with amusement. Then he sat down in the armchair across from her, and the two of them leaned forward, matching each other’s serious expressions. “It’s been a long while, but I know Delia and Charles. They take pleasure in torment. And as much as I hate to support either of them, how can my conscience allow me to support you, someone so young and inexperienced, when they are your opponents? They won’t care that you’re family. They won’t want to kill you, they’ll want to crush you. And they’ll enjoy doing it.”
Jac remembered the terror on Sophia’s face last night when she’d agreed to this. Harrison was telling her nothing she didn’t already know.
Jac squeezed her fingers tighter. She squeezed back.
“I understand perfectly,” Sophia answered coolly. “I’ve always understood this, but even if you choose not to sponsor me, I won’t back down. Delia already sees me as a member of her inner circle. I’ll bide my time until I have the chance, and I’ll still try to destroy her, no matter the price.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Harrison said.
“Actually, I do,” she snapped. She let go of Jac’s hand and stood up, her voice rising. “I have already gone to extremes to see this through, and I will win. Every time I look in the mirror, I see them and the evil they do. I’m tired of that guilt. I’m tired of doing nothing.”
Harrison said nothing for a long while, only examined Sophia with growing unease. Jac wanted to add something, even just useless words about Sophia’s management of Liver Shot, but it was Levi who spoke next.
“Jac?” he asked. “Can I talk to you in private?”
Jac nodded and followed Levi to the room’s corner.
“I think I know why you feel you need to do this,” Levi started.
“You think?” Jac countered.
“But even if Harrison agrees to this, you don’t need to stay with her. You could come back.”
Jac hesitated. He liked the Irons—missed the Irons. And he missed his friend. But working with Sophia meant something more to him than the Irons ever had, and he didn’t want Levi to make him say that.
“It would be amazing if you stopped the Torrens from selling Lullaby,” Levi said. “But even if the Torrens fell, one of the gangs or some other Family would pick it up. It’ll never end. And you heard what Harrison said. This isn’t just a game. It’s dangerous.”
Jac rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t you know a thing or two about that?”
“I would.” Levi’s voice was slipping back into the same weariness from earlier. He’d gotten nearly everything he’d ever wanted when Revolution Bridge fell, but Jac had never seen his friend act so defeated. “So I won’t ask you not to do this. I’m just worried.”
If Levi didn’t want to worry, then he shouldn’t have given this assignment to him in the first place. But he didn’t say that. It frustrated Jac that Levi only seemed to understand pieces of why this mattered to him, but that didn’t mean Jac needed to be cruel.
“If Harrison agrees,” Jac continued, “then Sophia needs to win. She needs to provide votes so that Harrison can join the Senate and kill Vianca. I told you I’m going to help free you, and I am. I’m going to see this through.”
Levi gave him a cheap excuse for a smile. “The Irons aren’t the same without you.”
Somehow, Jac doubted that. But he told Levi what he wanted to hear. “Only a few months until everything is normal again.”
Then he turned, eager to end their conversation. In the sitting area, Harrison was on the phone.
We did it, Sophia mouthed, then shot Jac a wink.
A thrill stirred in Jac’s stomach as he sat back down beside her. She threw an arm around his shoulder. It was a thoughtless touch—the sort she might’ve done during a shift at Liver Shot. He didn’t know if he should read more into it, but he wanted to.
“I knew we’d manage this.” Sophia grinned and twirled a dark curl around her finger. “You were amazing, Todd.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he mumbled. “And you can stop calling me Todd, you know.”
“I could,” she said, with a smirk that told Jac she probably wouldn’t.
“So if we’re going to be partners,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You need to tell me—all this talk about knowing your siblings or not knowing them. Which is it?” He thought of the strange reflection of someone else in Delia’s glasses. “What really happened between you and them? Why don’t they recognize you now?”
Sophia’s smile fell. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course you—”
“I can’t,” she said flatly. She slid her arm away. “You wouldn’t believe me, anyway.”
Before Jac could argue, Harrison hung up the phone and adjusted the volume on the radio. “Vance was thrilled,” Harrison said. “This will be the biggest story of the week.”
“There has been a fascinating update in a story currently playing out on the North Side.” Jac assumed it was Vance speaking on the radio now—he had one of those fast-talking radio voices, exactly the sort to be narrating their victory.
Jac should’ve felt excited—he was finally part of a story, a legend in the making—but he didn’t understand why Sophia had shut him out. Whatever happened, he thought they were partners.
“After the death of Sedric Torren, it’s been uncertain who would inherit the Family’s casino business. Although it seems likely to pass down to one of Sedric’s two older cousins, Charles or Delia Torren, we’ve just been informed of another candidate in this race—Sophia Torren, a family relative.”
Sophia gave a whooping cheer and jumped to her feet.
As Vance continued, Harrison dialed down the volume and turned to the window. “Across the river right now, your siblings and my mother are deeply unhappy.”
“Good,” Sophia said seriously.
“Wait,” Levi said, his voice sharp. “Can you turn the radio up again?”
Harrison obliged.
&nbs
p; “What an incredible back-to-back story. Captain Hector has just called to say that Delia Torren has been found dead in her Tropps Street hotel, the cause of death being eight gunshot wounds. Though it remains undetermined who killed her—”
“Charles,” Sophia whispered hoarsely.
Harrison rubbed his temples. “I’m sure Charles hasn’t heard the news about you yet.”
“Yeah, he’s probably driving back to Luckluster with his sister’s blood on his hands, thinking he’s won,” Levi said darkly. He glared at Jac, but Jac avoided meeting his eyes. “You think you made him deeply unhappy? How about furious?”
Jac fingered his Creed necklace. There was no going back now. Not for Sophia. Not for either of them.
Sophia’s confidence from earlier was gone. When she reached for Jac’s hand, he felt a taffy wrapper crushed between their fingers.
Jac leaned closer to her. “I told you I would help you, no matter what.”
He meant his words to be reassuring—they were both scared, but they were in this together. She could trust him.
“I know,” she whispered, and pulled her hand away.
Jac’s face burned. She still wouldn’t tell him her secret, and he now had a terrible feeling he didn’t know what he was getting into. And even worse, that his story was slipping away from him.
“Well, that’s one less opponent standing,” Harrison declared. When he spoke, his gaze was fixed on Sophia—he didn’t look at Jac at all. “I guess it’s time to play.”
LEVI
To a casual observer, when the Irons strutted into the Catacombs that night, it was a repeat performance—even if the circles under Levi’s eyes told a different story. His associates flanked him on either side, dressed in smart suits with flashes of silver—the shimmer of jewelry or the glint of a concealed blade.
Several guards stood at the top of the stairwell, and Levi noted that Narinder wasn’t among them. Then he turned and saw Narinder playing onstage, his violin propped against his shoulder, his eyes closed. Levi knew he needed to thank Narinder for letting them continue to use his club—and Tock for convincing him—but he didn’t feel brave enough to face him again. Enne would be at this meeting, and that—more than the musician, more than business—pressed anxiously on his mind.
Then I’m glad we’re both miserable, she’d snapped at him. Those words had kept him awake all last night.
After the guards confiscated his weapons, Levi made his way into the meeting room. This time, he was the last one to arrive. He’d planned it like that.
Enne looked away the moment he entered, her gaze fixed firmly on the table. Levi should’ve been strutting into this room with pride, but he stopped dead at the threshold when he saw her. All he could feel was shame, and want, and shame for wanting.
“We’ve been kept waiting,” said a woman’s voice, turning his attention away.
Levi had never seen her face before, but he instantly knew who she was. She looked maybe forty-five years old, with hair so white it appeared translucent. She wore white clothes as well, but there was something unnerving about her dress. It hung on her like a hospital gown, and its hemline was filthy, its sleeves dotted with what Levi assumed were specks of blood. She wore white bandages around her hands and bare feet that fluttered like ribbons.
For someone who had a reputation for never being seen, her eyes had a look in them that told Levi she saw everything—and a certain madness, like she’d seen too much.
“My apologies,” Levi told Ivory, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he was speaking with the most notorious murderer of the North Side. He took his seat at the head of the table and surveyed the others around him. Rebecca was missing, and Bryce, seemingly incapable of coming alone, had brought Harvey Gabbiano in her stead. Levi didn’t know Harvey much beyond his reputation: he’d briefly dated Reymond Kitamura, he was a Chainer estranged from his family, and he called himself the salesman of the Orphan Guild.
“So Revolution Bridge now lies at the bottom of the river.” Jonas smiled wide, a cigar dangling between his teeth. “Consider me impressed, Pup.”
Never before had Jonas paid him a compliment. Levi trusted it about as much as he trusted drinking water out of the Brint.
“Consider me flattered,” he answered coolly. “But now that we’ve struck back against the South Side, we need to be prepared for what’s next. Captain Hector will rally.”
Ivory let out a laugh. “Scythe told me you were entertaining fantasies of cooperation. We may all live on the North Side, but we’re not on the same team.” She waved her hands around the table, the unraveling gauze dancing between her fingers. “What do I care if each of you burn?” She said it as if considering that very possibility.
While Levi nervously loosened his necktie, Jonas snapped, “You’d go against us?”
“You’d go against me?” she echoed. She looked around the room, and everyone stayed silent. Levi knew he should argue with her—he had called this meeting, he had won this wager—but this was Ivory. She was one of the bloodiest legends of the city, and Levi hadn’t spent years enraptured by those stories to disregard them and interrupt her now.
She pulled something out of her pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. It was a knife, serrated all the way around, in the shape of a white tusk. Levi sucked in his breath as he examined it. Every member of the Doves was named after their weapon of choice, and he’d never thought he’d see hers.
“Seventeen years I’ve carried this, since before some of you were even born. I’ve lived longer, fought longer, killed more. I built everything from this blade. How did you all get to be in this room?” Ivory peered around the table.
“Eight Fingers died, and you couldn’t save him,” she told Jonas.
To Bryce: “An idea that wasn’t even yours.”
To Levi: “Because of her.” She nodded at Enne, and Levi clenched his fist under the table. That wasn’t true.
And to Enne: “I don’t even know about you.” Ivory cocked her head to the side. “Why are you here?”
“Because I was promised something,” she answered with impressive yet frightening coldness. Levi fought the urge to kick her under the table, but he no longer felt he had a right to.
“Your little stock market scheme?” Ivory raised her eyebrows. “No one will go along with it. Not if I don’t. Not if I forbid it.”
Enne crossed her arms. “Why would you do that?”
“Because the Doves aren’t a public offering. My followers aren’t assets.”
“Your second gave his word.”
“And now I’m giving you mine, and the answer is no.”
Levi tried to come up with words to fight her, but he knew he’d lose. She was right. The legend of Ivory was more fearsome and older than any of them, and the threat of her wrath was enough to ensure no one invested in Enne’s market or opened their casinos to the Irons again.
“That’s disappointing,” Enne said drily. “I don’t like people who go back on their promises.”
Levi sucked in his breath. Enne knew better than to anger Ivory—didn’t she?
And muck, he knew better. But that didn’t stop him from saying, “I’ll do it. I’m with Séance.”
He swallowed and stared at the ivory knife, wondering if he’d made a deadly error.
Ivory narrowed her eyes. “A mistake,” she hissed. In that moment, Levi was grateful that a table stretched out between her and him. Not that distance would serve as any real protection from a woman credited with sixty-three kills.
Enne needed their support for her stock market, but Levi needed this, too. If the North Side came together, then the casinos would open their doors to the Irons again. Their pressure of the gangs could drive the whiteboots out.
If they united, the city would be their kingdom.
And if not, the city would be their ruin.
“I couldn’t save Reymond, either,” Levi murmured, meeting Jonas’s eyes. He thought Jonas was slimier than a rott
ing eel, but at least they’d both cared about Reymond. Maybe that would be enough.
Jonas turned over Levi’s words carefully. “So it’s the three of us, then.” For perhaps the first time in their acquaintance, Levi looked at Jonas and smiled.
Just as Ivory reached for her knife, Bryce cleared his throat. “The four of us.”
Ivory’s hand froze in midair. “What?”
“Eight of my friends are dead,” Bryce said darkly. “I’ll protect the ones I have left. Whatever it takes.”
Levi wasn’t sure in that moment where to look—at the fury that crossed over Ivory’s face, or the thrill that filled Harvey’s.
“I see,” Ivory seethed. Without another word, she picked up her knife and stormed out.
Enne stood, chair screeching against the wooden floor. “I’ll be in contact with all of you soon.” And then, to Levi’s shock, she walked out, as well.
Abandoning Jonas, Bryce, and Harvey in the meeting room, he ran after Enne and caught her at the bottom of the stairwell. The music from the club pulsed around them.
“Wait,” he rasped.
Enne spun around and looked up at him. “Why? I got what I came for.”
“You threatened Ivory. Maybe you don’t know—”
“I know,” she snapped. “I’ve learned a lot in the past two weeks, and, you see, I was the one that had everything on the line tonight. Thanks to you, I don’t get to play it safe.”
He stormed down the steps, even if it still ached in his ribs to do so. “Like I said last night, had I not stepped in and made the wager, your plan would have sunk. They—”
“Do you want me to thank you, then? If this all fell through, we would’ve thought of something else. I don’t need—”
“I know that,” Levi said. He white-knuckled the railing across from her, trying not to shout, trying not to reach for her. She had clawed her way inside him and buried herself there, and that meant every one of her words could wound or cut. He didn’t know how to force her out—and he didn’t want to.
