Page 19 of Thrown to the Wolves

“You’re sure?”

I tilt my head to one side. “Seriously?”

Hadria sighs. “Look. If Juno Bianchi attends the wedding, it will cement the Styx Syndicate as a major player here in town, beyond just picking up contracts here and there. But she won’t come if Chicago is descending into chaos again. So, once again—you’re sure you can take care of the problem?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, because I’ve heard all this already from Hadria.

Over and fucking over.

I know Juno Bianchi’s presence would be a major coup, and I get why Hadria’s nervous—if Hadria can ever be said to be something so human as nervous. The Bianchi Family blessing could launch us into a whole new echelon of the underworld.

But it’s still irritating to have to hear about it every time I see her—not to mention irritating to have my judgment questioned.

“I am one hundred percent sure,” I say stiffly. “You want to come with me, see for yourself while I put her down?”

“Her?” That takes Hadria aback.

“Her,” I confirm.

Ricky pushes off the wall and ambles over, a grin splitting his weathered face. “Need a hand, Lyssa? It’s been a while since I got these dirty.” He waggles the remaining fingers of his right hand.

I give a scoff, the camaraderie between us easy and familiar. “Even an old fossil like you could manage this one solo, Ricky. Turns out the assassin’s just some girl who thinks we offed her brother.”

Hadria arches one brow. “Did we?”

I shrug, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. “Does it matter? She killed our people.”

She inclines her head in agreement. In our world, guilt and innocence are fluid concepts. Power is the only thing that matters. And vengeance, well, that’s just the cost of doing business. We’ve all got blood on our hands, and we’ve all lost people we care about. It’s the nature of the life we lead.

But the Syndicate cannot appear weak. So Scarlett—even if she’s got the prettiest damn eyes I’ve ever seen—has to die.

I take my leave, mind already racing ahead to my next move. But as I reach my room, I run into Mrs. Graves once more. She tuts at me, her keen eyes zeroing in on my wounded arm.

“Well, that only looks worse. I’m taking a look at it,” she insists, already steering me toward her room with a firm but gentle grip.

I open my mouth instinctively to protest, to tell her I’ve already tended to it, but I’ve lost this battle too many times before to waste my breath. Mrs. Graves has a long history of tending to my wounds. I remember the night we came back to her house, bloody and bruised after avenging her daughter’s murder, to announce that it was done. She’d taken us into her home and cleaned us up with gentle hands, eyes shining with unshed tears and fierce pride.

“You girls,” she’d whispered, smoothing Hadria’s dark hair back from her forehead. “You brave, fierce girls. You’ll stay here with me from now on.”

And…we did.

That moment cemented our bond, started us on the path to what we are now. We became a family, and now the Syndicate has become the same. Bound not by blood, but by something far stronger—loyalty, sacrifice, and a shared understanding of the darkness in each other’s souls.

So I let Mrs. Graves lead me into her room and sit me down on the sofa, the familiar scents of lavender and lemon enveloping me. As she cleans out the knife slash with gentle efficiency, I find myself thinking of Scarlett again, of the way she pulled the wool over my eyes when she told me to look away. It gave her a chance to sew that tracker into me.

Into me. The Wolf of the Styx Syndicate.

That took some big brass ovaries.

And I’ll admit, there’s something about Scarlett that sticks with me—and it’s not just her impressive fighting skills or the fire in her hazel eyes. It’s the pain I see there, the raw, savage grief. I know that look. I saw it in the mirror often enough growing up.

Scarlett said the Syndicate killed her brother—that I killed him. Adam, she called him. I turn the name over in my memory, but I can’t place it. That means nothing, though. I don’t remember names.

I only remember kills.

And if we did kill him, it would have been for a reason. We’re brutal, but not indiscriminate. We don’t kill innocents.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this story. And who in the hell taught her to fight like she does? I overpowered her easily enough, but only because she couldn’t master herself.

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