"Please believe me. I would never hurt you that way. You must know that. I'm your family. We are all each other has left right now."
I pull my hands from her clutches and stare at her, empty. "How did Abel know you gave Ivy that lipstick?"
She pales, her brows pinching together as she considers how to answer. "Abel?"
"How did he know?" I lean forward, biting the words so forcefully Mercedes flinches back.
"I... I don't know. That doesn't make any sense. I haven't spoken to him, and Ivy hasn't spoken with him since before. There's no way he could have—"
She pauses abruptly, an odd expression taking over her face.
"What?" I ask.
"I can't." She stumbles to her feet, swaying slightly. "I don't have the answers you need right now, Santi. But I will. I can promise you that I will. All I'm asking is for you to give me some time. Trust me, please. Know that I would never hurt you."
"Mercedes." I stagger to my feet, but she only offers me one last glance over her shoulder before she runs from the office, her heels clapping down the corridor as she goes.
"Fuck."
I stare at the empty doorway, considering my options. Considering that there is very possibly a traitor in my own home, and she's my own blood. I could go after her now. There are ways of getting the answers I want from her. I know them intimately and can still recall the sting of my father’s methods for situations such as these. But I don’t have the stomach to torture her myself, and I can’t bring this to anyone else within The Society without raising alarm and confirming her guilt. There is one alternative. Someone I trust, who could execute a harsh but fair punishment and draw the answers from her efficiently. Judge would do that for me. But before I go that far, I have to consider my sister’s desperation to prove whatever it is that occurred to her when she was speaking with me. And the fastest way to do that is also the easiest.
"Marco." I press the intercom button, summoning him, and he appears within a few moments.
"Yes, boss?"
"I want you to follow Mercedes when she leaves this house. Wherever she goes, I want updates on her location. Don't let her know you're there. Stay hidden, but don't lose her."
"Of course, sir."
He takes his leave, and I call some of my other men, instructing them to scour the city for Chambers. Once that is arranged, I stir my computer back to life and resume the video from the night of the gala, playing it from the beginning, trying to catch any other glimpse of the woman who attended that night. The woman who kissed me.
I think of my wife in her room. How many times she must have tried to tell me, and I would not hear it. How close she could have come to facing execution if it weren't for this revelation.
I am not familiar with these churning emotions deep in my gut. They are feelings I don't recognize, but I think perhaps it is guilt.
It appears that nothing is as simple as it seems, and if I was so wrong about this, it leaves me to question my resolve on other matters. The matter of Ivy's family. Her father was poisoned, but by who? At some point, I will need to go to the hospital.
He's been asking to see me since he awoke. A fact not even Ivy or Abel is aware of. The moment the doctor informed me, I had him placed on restricted lockdown while he recovers. The only visitor he is allowed right now is me, and so far, it hasn't proven to be an issue, considering his own family hasn't been to see him in some time. As far as they know, he is still in the same unyielding condition. They are all oblivious to his progress, and he is painfully aware that they are not at his bedside while he fights to regain his strength.
I am still determined to take his life and exact my revenge. It's the only logical conclusion to this scenario. The only way I can ever know peace. But there is no pleasure in snuffing out a sick, weak man. I need him at his best, whatever capacity that may be when he’s fully recovered. I need him to feel the immense deal of pain he will face and remember every agonizing detail.
Except, I can't help considering how that might sour Ivy against me. Right now, she is... different. Instead of running away, she is leaning into me. Stealing opportunities to touch me. In place of her hatred, there is something... more. Something sweeter. Softer.
I feel it. And I don't want to admit that I will be at a loss without it when she realizes what my plans are for her father. Once I carry them out.
But what about her? Can I follow through on my threats to her?
My eyes are bleary as I watch her on the screen. A goddess in black and gold silk. A butterfly with only one wing. How fitting it is.
With painstaking clarity, a realization hits me without warning.
I can't kill her.
Because I don't want to.
My eyes shutter closed, under the weight of exhaustion and delirium, and that's the last peaceful thought I have.
No, I won’t kill her.
I will keep her instead.
* * *
"Santiago."
A strangled groan rumbles from my chest as her fingers stroke my hair back from my face.
"Hmm?"
My eyes are so heavy, it is difficult to open them. But I can feel her weight in my lap. Her scent surrounding me. The warmth of her body pressing against mine.
"You need to sleep," she says softly.
I half nod. Sleep sounds good.
I'm not thinking clearly when I scoop her up into my arms and stagger to my feet. Ivy lets out a soft little laugh, and I freeze, opening my eyes to look at her.
"You're
