Page 68 of Thrown to the Wolves

A moment later, Lyssa returns through the door, tall and strong, expression utterly inscrutable as those dark brown eyes look down at me.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “For my parents.”

“I told the Syndicate to take them back to a safe house of ours,” she says flatly. “And I’ll arrange protection for them at their home, after all this is…over.”

“Thank you,” I say again.

I stand up. If I’m going to die, I’d rather die on my feet.

“You were good today,” she says slowly, looking back up the stairwell. “Impressive. Kept your head.” I stay silent, a little confused at the praise. “And we have unfinished business,” she goes on. The air in here is getting unpleasant, given the number of dead we left on the stairs. “The cops are nowhere to be found—yet. So that gives me a little time to deal with Grandmother, unless she’s caught that ride yet.” She looks back to me. “You could take your shot at Ariadne, too. If you want.”

If I want?

I don’t even hesitate. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Her hand shoots out, grabs my wrist as I turn to mount the stairs.

“But we don’t have time to w?—”

She yanks me close to her and cuts me off with a kiss, a searing, passionate kiss that steals my breath. I wrap my arms around her neck instinctively, heart jackhammering against my ribcage as I give myself over to her.

Completely. Utterly.

She breaks away from my mouth only to kiss down my neck, clutching onto me with a desperate hold, and I’m on fire for her, instantly. “Lyssa—I’m so sorry,” I choke out, desire warring with all the regret and all the guilt I feel.

“Shh,” she says, capturing my mouth again for a moment, before pushing me back into the wall. “I understand,” she mutters, nipping at my throat, making me arch into her with a groan. “I do, Scar. I do understand—all too well. And I…”

“Yes?” I ask breathlessly.

Maybe there’s hope? Maybe she can find it somewhere in her to forgive me for the awful things I’ve done?

She presses her forehead against mine, looking straight into my eyes. “And I’m sorry, too,” she says.

A stabbing pain lances into my neck. The world tilts sickeningly, my knees buckling, giving me no time even to struggle, as I remember far too late…

Anything can be a weapon. Sex can be a weapon.

Love can be a weapon, too.

I’m still in her arms as she lowers me gently, she’s still got me, still holding on, but everything is going black…Oh, God, I wish I’d had a chance to tell her that I?—

CHAPTER 33

Lyssa

I walk through the front entrance of the Empire Grand hotel much more slowly than last time, when I was desperate to find out what had happened to Mrs. Graves. But now my feet are slow, too heavy, the warm luxury of the surroundings at odds with the events that have just transpired.

For now, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I head up to the interim war room that the Syndicate has been using, and as I push open the door, it’s less “war room” and more “party room.” I’m greeted by a blast of celebration. The place is filled with my fellow Syndicate members, faces flushed with joy and relief at Mrs. Graves’ safe return.

And as I push through the crowd, I’m met with nods of respect and admiration, hands clapping me on the back, voices raised in congratulation.

I spot Hadria across the room, surrounded by a small group—Ricky, Marco and Aurora. She catches my eye and beckons me over with a slight tilt of her head. I weave through the throng of well-wishers, trying to smile, trying to pretend the congratulations don’t cut as deep as Scarlett’s switchblade stiletto.

Scarlett.

“Hey,” I say, when I reach Hadria, and then my arms are full of sweet-smelling sunshine as Aurora throws herself at me, bursting into happy tears as she thanks me for bringing Mrs. Graves home. “You’re welcome, Suzy,” I say, spitting out her hair and returning her firmly to her feet. “God, calm down.”

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