Page 49 of Thrown to the Wolves

“Just the usual, Mrs. G,” Lyssa replies with a tight smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

I subtly adjust my jacket, making sure it covers the bruises on my arms, while Lyssa runs a hand through her hair, smoothing out any tangles.

Aurora, blissfully oblivious, simply beams and asks me how the coffee is here.

“It really is so nice to meet you,” she gushes in a low voice, while Mrs. Graves chats with Lyssa. “Are you an old friend of Lyssa’s?”

I pause, caught off guard by the question. I glance at Lyssa, unsure of how to respond, but she gives me a subtle nod. “Yes,” I say, forcing a smile. “We go way back.”

“That’s wonderful! Lyssa’s never mentioned her friends all that much, outside—well…” She trails off, biting her lip as she looks at Lyssa.

And I catch Lyssa murmuring to Mrs. Graves, “…the hell are your bodyguards? I told you to stop giving them the slip.”

“Oh, we haven’t, I promise, Lyssa,” Aurora breaks in quickly. “They’re just outside.” She nods at three unmistakably huge security types standing near the cafe door, holding up hands to stop anyone trying to come in. “Oh dear,” Aurora says in dismay, “perhaps we’d better get going.” She turns back to me with an air of mischief. “Ruby, would you like to come to my wedding as Lyssa’s plus-one? It would be so nice to have one of Lyssa’s old friends there.”

I nearly choke on my coffee, the invitation catching me completely off-guard. I glance at Lyssa, expecting to see shock or anger on her face, but instead, she looks resigned.

As if she knew this was coming.

Swallowing back the impulse to dissolve into a fit of hysterical giggling at the absurdity of it all, I opt for a more diplomatic approach.

“I’d be honored. Thank you for the invitation.”

Aurora beams at me, and before I know what’s happening, she’s leaning in for a hug. I stiffen, caught off guard by the sudden contact, but I force myself to relax, wrapping my arms around her in return.

As we embrace, I catch a whiff of her perfume—something light and floral, so different from the gunpowder and leather scent that clings to Lyssa. For a moment, I allow myself to wonder how someone like Aurora got mixed up with the Syndicate. She seems too innocent, much too pure for such a world of violence and deceit.

Under my fingers, I feel her handbag. It’s huge. Weirdly out of style, too, for someone like her. And then Aurora is pulling away, still smiling. “We should get going,” she says, glancing at Mrs. Graves. “Wedding planning waits for no one! There’s still so much to do.”

Mrs. Graves nods. “Indeed. We’ll see you later, dear,” she says to Lyssa. “It was very nice to meet you, Ruby.”

With that, they’re gone, leaving Lyssa and me alone once more. She’s staring at me very strangely. “I mean, obviously I won’t go to the wedding,” I stammer out. She can’t think I really meant to?—

“We should get out of here,” Lyssa says, her voice tight. “We have work to do.”

“What work?” I ask blankly.

She leans in. “I told you, Scar. I’ll help you get your vengeance. Kill your brother’s killer. If that’s…still what you want.”

She might be telling the truth. Or she might just want to keep me sweet while she figures out a way to get to Grandmother. But I nod, draining the last of my coffee and standing up. As we make our way out of the shop, I ask the question that’s been nagging at me. “How did Aurora get involved with the Syndicate?”

For a moment, I think she’s going to ignore me. But then she sighs, running a hand through her hair and reflexively tightening up her ponytail again. “It’s a long story.”

I frown, unsatisfied with her answer, but I don’t press the issue. We have more important things to worry about right now.

We take an Uber to the shitty hotel that has been serving as our temporary headquarters now and then, the seedy surroundings a stark contrast to the cozy coffee shop we just left. Lyssa unlocks the door to a new room, and we step inside, the musty smell of cigarette smoke waiting right there for us like an old friend.

“So…what now?” I ask.

“Now we need to rest. We’re running on fumes.”

“Rest—here?” I ask, looking at the bed.

“I won’t jump your bones, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lyssa says, but her tone sounds a little odd to my ears.

“I’m not worried about it.” I consider my options once more. “In fact,” I say slowly, “I wouldn’t say no to a little…relaxation.”

The look in Lyssa’s eye as she turns to me in that electrically-charged moment almost makes me wish again for normalcy. For this. Just this.

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