by Wren Weston
“Did you ask her?”
“Yes, during my first week on patrol. She told me she wanted an adventure.”
“Adventure my ass. She went because of her mother.”
“Ms. Edith Randolph? What does she have to do with—”
“I meant her biological mother.”
Lila frowned. “The woman died when Commander Sutton was a baby. That’s how she became a Randolph.”
“Yes, and she has no memory of her. Joining the military and becoming a sniper? It was the only way she could get to know her mother.”
“By getting killed in action, too?”
“By following in her footsteps.” Jenkins brushed crumbs from his lap and stared at the door.
Lila did the same. She perched on her desk again, boots still swinging back and forth.
The pair waited.
No sounds came from outside the building.
No sounds came from Jenkins’s office.
No sounds came from Lila’s as well. They might have been aboard an elevator, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and small talk.
The minutes stretched on.
Jenkins heard it before Lila. The elevator dinged from far away. One pair of boots stalked across the wooden floor in the next room.
Lila cocked her ear, listening for conversation.
She heard none.
She hopped from the desk, planted her feet, and raised her tranq.
Jenkins raised his gun too.
They listened for a voice and the password that all militia should use in such a situation.
Neither came.
The doorknob turned.
Chapter 16
A blast ripped through Lila’s door. Splinters and sawdust burst from the hole. The smell of gunpowder wafted across the room.
Two more shots followed.
Something soft and large thunked against the wall beside the door.
“Chocolate pancakes! Chocolate pancakes! Oracle’s light, stop shooting!”
Jenkins lowered his weapon. “Commander Sutton?”
Lila aimed her Colt at the floor as well. “We have got to change the code word. It’s embarrassing.”
The door opened, creaking softly. Sutton entered, her officer’s uniform replaced by a black tactical suit, the zippers jingling back and forth across her chest and legs. Her helmet hung askew, and a bullet trail skittered across the top, leaving a shallow groove. Her eyes cut to the tight grouping near her head.
“I never liked that door anyway,” Lila said.
Over a dozen boots thudded across Jenkins’s office. The militia froze. Their gazes shifted among the commander, the chief, and the admin.
Jenkins holstered his weapon. “If you were a little taller, you’d have a bullet through your brain. Why didn’t you use the code phrase?”
“I forgot.” Sutton stepped into the room and closed the door.
The squad lifted their heels, peeking through the bullet holes.
“Good work,” the commander barked at the group. “Now go downstairs and finish your breakfast.”
Boots clomped across the room.
The elevator dinged, taking the squad away.
Sutton took off her ruined helmet, then tore open the top Velcro strap of her bulletproof vest. “Shooter’s gone. We found the sniper rifle, though. I have a team processing the scene. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Who’s running the investigation?” Lila asked.
“Me, and don’t you dare say that I don’t have time for it. I only left the scene so that I could walk you back to the great house. You, the chairwoman, and your sister are to remain inside until you leave for the Closing Ball, do you hear me?”
“Commander—”
“Don’t commander me. Once upon a time, I used a rifle like the one we found. In the hands of someone halfway competent, it could have shot the stars off my collar from four times the distance. The only reason you weren’t hit is because the scope wasn’t calibrated.”
“Good, my would-be assassin is incompetent.”
“This time. Count yourself lucky, embrace fate, and let me do my job.”
“I don’t—”
“I don’t care. Damn it, Lila, don’t make me pull rank.”
Jenkins eyed the pair.
Lila raised her arms in surrender. “I have work to do anyway.”
“Good. I’ll take you to the great house myself.”
“Myself” ended up being Sutton and two teams of armored patrols. She forced Lila to don armor just in case, borrowing the helmet and vest and uniform from a rookie who was close to her size and hair color.
The slender rookie dressed in her clothes and a hat, then marched among the group as they set off for the great house. “Commander Sutton,” he called out, “tell the militia I’m off tonight, so I can wander around the compound, shouting ‘Boo!’ at all the slackers.”
He turned in a circle, waggling his fingers at everyone in the squad, even Lila.
Then he winked, fluffed his curls, and spun around to face the front.
“You know, those pants sure do look good on you, Bernard,” someone called out. “Maybe chief should let you keep them.”
“Maybe she should. They really accentuate my ass.” He swished his hips. “Look at my ass cheeks, mortals, for mine will launch five thousand ships!”
“I don’t think it was Helen’s ass that launched all those ships,” another said. “I think it was her vulva.”
“Nah, her breasts,” someone chimed in. “Never underestimate a pair of perfect breasts.”
“Perfect breasts?” Bernard snorted. “Give me breasts with character. I like it when one nipple looks off to the side and follows me around the bedroom.”
“That’s enough, Bernard,” his mentor called out from the back. The harried man scratched his beard.
“Everyone else said—”
“Everyone else already has a title or a nickname. Do you want Ass Cheeks to be yours?”
Bernard spun and walked backward. “Is that an option?”
His mentor sighed. “Why couldn’t I get a normal rookie like everyone else?”
“Come on, sergeant, you know you love me.”
“Can I tranq him, chief?”
“No, you cannot tranq your rookie. Use your words,” Lila grunted. “I can’t believe he fits into my trousers.”
“I can’t believe I fit into your bra.” Bernard grabbed at his breasts and squeezed. “It sounded better before I put it on. The wire bit hurts, and rolled-up socks don’t feel the same.”
“You’re saying you touched the chief’s tits?” someone called out.
“Not yet.” He winked.
“Damn it, Bernard!” his mentor cried out. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll make you wear one of those for the rest of shift!”
“Take him to the weight room instead,” Sutton advised. “The cafeteria, too. He needs to spend the next year in both.”
“I work out and eat loads!”
“Whatever you’re doing, double it.”
“I’ll see to it personally,” his mentor vowed, a vengeful glint in his eyes.
Bernard gulped and finally turned around. He said nothing for the rest of the march.
The group finally reached the end of the lane. Instead of leaving, they spread themselves around the great house’s perimeter, adding to the patrols stationed outside the gate. Bernard joined them as soon as he and Lila swapped clothes.
“Ass Cheeks has returned,” he shouted from the door, adjusting his chin strap as he jogged down the front steps.
Ms. O’Malley slammed the door shut behind him.
Lila returned to her bedroom and checked for snoops. Her palm vibrated as soon as she finished. Dixon’s name appeared on the screen.
&nb
sp; Let’s meet somewhere and talk.
It was likely Tristan who’d sent it, thinking she wouldn’t read or listen to any message he sent from his palm.
I can’t leave the great house right now, she wrote back.
Why?
Lila drummed her fingers upon her desk, wondering if she should tell him the truth. A small part of her wondered if Tristan would even care.
That part won.
We’re on lockdown. Someone fired at me with a sniper rifle.
She settled her palm on her desk. It stared back at her, unmoved.
It was official, then. Tristan didn’t care, not even enough to ask if she was all right.
Instead of dwelling, she turned back to her desktop and pulled up her data. She wanted to find the Baron’s identity before she left for the ball. She needed to have the situation well in hand before her mother announced her new position.
She’d only made a few hours’ progress before a knock sounded upon the door. “Come in,” she said, expecting to see Alex.
Instead, she saw Tristan. He slipped inside her bedroom, his face pale. “What do you mean someone fired at you?” he hissed.
“My would-be assassin fired a few bullets at my head, but they hit the security office.” She noted his long brown coat. “How in the world did you get in here?”
“I have my ways.” His gaze traveled across her face, a miserable expression in his eyes. “Your bike is parked in front of that restaurant a block from the southern gate. Simone’s, is it?”
Lila nodded. “Did Shirley find anything new?”
“Not much. Your brakes were rigged to blow from afar, some complicated mess that likely received a signal from a palm. You never should have been able to slow your bike. You could have died.” He pulled a baggie with cords from his coat pocket. “Shirley wore gloves. You should have these tested for prints.”
“The assassin wore gloves, too.”
“You already found them?”
“No, I just saw the security footage. My people are doing an investigation. This will help, though.” She dropped the cords onto her desk.
Tristan peered at her computer, noting a familiar sheen to the data. “You hacked Liberté without us?”
Lila turned off her monitor. “What did you expect me to do, Tristan? I have a case to solve, and you made it clear you wanted nothing more to do with me.”
Tristan sat down on the edge of her bed. The mattress creaked. “That’s not what I said.”
“You told me to go.”
“I said a lot of things. That’s the only thing you heard.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t go there tonight, Lila.”
“Go where?”
“You know where. Don’t spend the night with one of those men.”
“One of those senators,” she corrected. “I don’t want to have this argument again. We’ll only yell at one another.”
“Maybe we need to yell.”
“To what end?”
He looked up and cleared his throat. “You want a child? Fine. I’ll provide you with an heir if that’s what you want. You wouldn’t—”
“Do you even want a child?”
“Do you?” Tristan rubbed his scalp. “I need you. You need a child. Why are you making this more complicated than—”
“It’s not about a baby, Tristan.”
“Then what is it about? What do they have that you need? What do they have that someone else couldn’t—”
“That you couldn’t?”
“I would rather have seen you with Dixon for the rest of my life than to know you spent one night with one of those highborn—”
“So you’re going to go back to insulting the highborn again, is that it?”
“I love you, Lila. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”
“You can still have me. I just have to take a partner for the season, or at least until I get pregnant.”
Tristan looked away. “I’m not going to stand by while you fuck some other man.”
“Then you want too much. I’m not the chief anymore. I’m prime. There’s just no time for us anymore, not in the way that you want.”
Tristan stood up and pulled her out of her chair. He slipped his arms around her, and his mouth landed on hers hungrily. Their tongues intertwined. She tasted whiskey, quite a bit more whiskey than usual.
At some point, her kiss changed. Her lips stilled, and her thumb lingered on his cheek. Passion fled where goodbye lingered.
“Why do you kiss me like that? Why do you kiss me like that if you don’t have feelings for me? If you can just run away and have feelings for someone else?”
“None of this is about feelings. I’m not taking a lover. I’m making an heir.”
“You couldn’t do that with me?” He blinked back tears. “Mine works just as good as theirs. Why am I not enough for you?”
“What would have me do, Tristan? Would you have me seal the child’s birth record? Even accepting for the moment that your breeding does nothing for my family’s prospects, what would I tell the child when it grows up? That she can’t see her daddy because he’ll be working in the mines for the rest of his life? That he’s a slave who got caught doing something stupid? Or maybe I should say that she can’t see her daddy because he hates everything she stands for. It’s hard enough for me to put up with, and I’m a grown woman. How’s a child supposed to deal with all your backhanded slaps? I won’t put a child through that.”
Tristan pulled away.
“I won’t have a child who can’t rely on her father for help. Look at Alex and Simon. Look how it worked for them.”
“Get it from a jar.”
Lila sighed. “That’s not how this works, Tristan, and you know it. I’m prime—”
“If it’s only too late if you become prime, then don’t become prime. Live with me.”
“I can’t, and I’m sorry if you don’t understand why I can’t choose to be with you in the way that you want. I’m trying to meet you halfway, and I don’t know why you won’t do the same for me. I can’t turn my back on my family, and you shouldn’t ask me to.”
“I wouldn’t ask if you really wanted to be the prime. I’d let you go. But this doesn’t suit you, Lila. None of it does. Not being prime, not having a child, not sleeping around with other men. Fine, maybe some people, some highborn, can do this, but you aren’t like them. Dixon wasn’t either. Don’t you get that? Why must you go along with this?”
Lila swallowed. That morning she would have said she deserved it. She had killed people, and part of the compensation for that involved this life she had never wanted.
But her mind had changed since then. She no longer regretted her actions, not since the shooter took aim that morning. The Italian mercs had sealed their fate in the warehouse the moment they took her and her friends hostage. Were she in that place again, she’d draw her gun and shoot. No tears would fall upon her cheek. No remorse would cloud the aftermath. She’d shoot again, just as she would have shot the sniper that morning.
The monster in her mind vanished, along with his club.
For the first time in weeks, her mind quietened, but what remained surprised her. “I’m going along with it because I love my family, because I can handle the office, and because I can do more good as prime than I ever did in the security office. Pick one, Tristan. My mother needs me. My sister needs me. My family needs me. I was never meant to be anything but the next chairwoman. I’m tired of running from that. It’s exhausting.”
“No, you’re just running from us. Again.”
“It’s not about us.”
“So becoming prime is just fate?”
“I call it life. I call it duty and responsibility. I call it growing up.”
Tristan scowled, shaking his head. “You could do more good by my side in a wee
k than an entire lifetime as prime.”
“Really? Where’s your Randolph General?”
“Don’t be an ass. That’s not fair, and you know it. There are more ways to do go good than with money. Join me. We could do good things together.”
“So long as I leave my family first? I’m supposed to leave everyone I know behind just because a man says he loves me? For a relationship I’ve only had for a few weeks? Do you understand how crazy you sound?”
Tristan licked his lips. “Don’t do it for me, then. Do it for yourself. Buy your mark from your mother. You don’t belong here.”
“She’s not going to sell it to me, Tristan.”
“Then leave. You’re not a prisoner, and you don’t need your mark to live. Dixon lost his, and he hasn’t missed it. I haven’t missed mine. There are worse things.”
“Yes, like being thrown into a holding cell the first time a militia patrol hauls you in, even for the smallest of things, because the chairwoman has put a bounty on my mark? I can’t even work without it.”
“You think too much like the highborn. There are other ways to work. I worked for you, didn’t I? You’re rich. Take your money and leave. I’d take care of you even if you had nothing.”
“So, best-case scenario, I become some sort of kept woman? Like some daughter of the empire? Kept by a former slave who can’t go more than five minutes without yelling at me?”
“You’re the one who can’t go five minutes without yelling at me!”
“Fine, we can’t go five minutes without yelling at each other,” she said. “Do you think that’s going to stop just because we’re fucking? How long before you realize that I’m just some stupid mistake?”
Tristan’s face fell. “Is that what you think we are? Some mistake?”
“Maybe you need to take another lover as well.”
“Gods, you’re serious.” Tristan backed away.
“What if we aren’t a mistake? What am I supposed to do if something…when something happens to you after I’ve thrown away my mark and my family?”
“Why can’t you just jump into anything? Why do you always overthink—”
“That’s what I was trained to do. It’s what I was born for, and it’s what will make me a good chairwoman. And if I’m really lucky, I’ll be half as good as my mother one day. People depend on me, Tristan. Perhaps you don’t care about them, perhaps you even hate them, but they are people nonetheless. They deserve my care, just as much as Dixon deserves yours.”
